The Accidental Archmage: Book Three - Blood Wars (The Accidental Archmage Series 3)

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  “A good day to you, Master Mage,” a voice greeted him. He turned around. Danay minded the bar. Around Tyler, the loud sound of shouting men, running steps, the metallic clang of weapons, and all the hustle and bustle of being in the middle of a battle echoed through the empty inn. He went to the barkeep.

  “Danay! What’s happening?”

  “A Dorian surprise attack, Master Mage. Happened early this morning. The main gate is now taken. There’s fighting inside the city,” replied the barkeep. “They’re finding it difficult though. Akrotiri’s meandering streets make for perfect blockages and ambushes.”

  “How come they’re not entering the inn?”

  “Oh, the Dorians are careful enough not to touch any of the temples, Master Mage. I venture they don’t want matters to escalate.”

  “Master Dio?” asked Tyler.

  “Not in the city, Master Mage. I guess there are rules for the Lord of the Grape in these situations.”

  “My companions?”

  Danay looked at him. Tyler thought he saw a glimmer of sadness in the man’s eyes.

  “It would be best if you proceed to the square in front of the palace. It’s where the defenses are being directed. And where the dead and wounded are brought,” answered the barkeep.

  “Is anything wrong, Danay? You can tell me. I would rather know such things now.”

  Danay was visibly torn by Tyler’s request. He could see the struggle in the barkeep’s face. After a while, he looked at the mage and answered.

  “It’s Jorund, Master Mage. He’s dead.”

  That simple phrase hit Tyler like a sharp and mighty blow to his midriff. He couldn’t breathe. The world spun, forcing him to hold on to the bar. The painful shock of the news drove all thoughts from his dazed head. His muscles immediately weakened, and he could barely stand. Danay held on to his arms as he slumped on the wooden surface.

  “Easy, Master Mage. Hold on. I’ll get some water for you. Or would you prefer something stronger?” asked the barkeep.

  “Stronger,” he managed to blurt out as he crawled to a bar seat.

  Jorund. How the hell could that happen? How could things deteriorate so fast? This is BULLSHIT!

  At his last thought, a field of force emanated from the mage, shaking the inn.

  “Master Mage!” cried Danay who was coming back with his drink. “This is not the place to unleash your anger! This is your friend’s house!”

  Tyler caught himself and held his feelings in check. The face of the huskarl stood out from his memories, adding to the emotional pain and distress.

  “What happened?” asked Tyler as his badly trembling hand reached out for the drink. He drank it all in one swallow. The wine was a strong variety, and its welcome warmth helped assuage the weighty clamminess he felt.

  “Nobody expected the attack to happen this fast. Your three companions were already here yesterday. This morning found the Dorian army arrayed before the gates, led by the twin sons of the battle-god. Together with a host of creatures I only knew from stories. A challenge was first made. Their champions against the finest of the city’s defenders. The woman and the archer dealt with the champions of the two. Single battles. Habrok? Is that the name?” asked Danay.

  Tyler nodded.

  “Habrok disposed of the giant. Arrows in the eyes, the wrists, and in the legs. Then he killed the creature. The woman warrior, Astrid is it?”

  Tyler again nodded.

  “Astrid faced a Myrmidon warrior. Highly skilled, enchanted armor, and enhanced with the magic of Deimos. Didn’t last long. We even couldn’t see what happened. She was that fast. Like the wind. A spurt of blood and Deimos’s Champion was headless. They’re very good, those companions of yours.”

  “Jorund.” Tyler held out his cup. Danay refilled it. The mage emptied it in one swig. The heat burned its way down his throat, slowly driving away the coldness he felt.

  “Between the brothers, Deimos couldn’t take what happened. I guess he’s the one leading the host. He came out and challenged the city’s defenders. They must have known you weren’t around, High Mage. The two sons of the battle-god never referred to you nor looked for you. But Jorund answered him. Warrior’s honor, not to mention the city’s pride, demanded it, I think. A sight to see. A mortal against a minor god. And Jorund was winning. I didn’t know the man was that good with his skills. But as the two fighters circled each other, Jorund’s back at one point faced the Dorian army. When that happened, Phobos came in and stabbed him in the back of his neck.”

  “Planned.” Tyler could only speak in few syllables. It took everything to hold down his bitter fury and vengeful thirst for retaliation. His vision and focus were narrowed by all the rage and heartbreaking sorrow Danay’s news had brought.

  “I don’t think so, Master Mage. Deimos was angry. He struck his brother and then allowed your companions to recover Jorund’s body.”

  Tyler took a deep breath. The air forced its way through the distress his body was suffering. His mind started to clear. But he still felt heavily burdened.

  “They’re all in the square now?”

  “Yes, Master Mage. Jorund’s body is there too. Your two companions are helping defend the palace. Though I fear it’s only a matter of time.”

  “What’s the fastest way to the palace?”

  “Right out the door and straight down the avenue. But it’s full of Dorians. The sons held back the creatures from the fighting within the city after the main gate fell. The beings are still helping the attacks on the other gates. But the fighting gets worse the nearer one gets to the palace.”

  “Don’t worry, Danay. I can take care of myself. Though I promise you that by the end of today, the battle-god will be less a son.”

  “Master High Mage, with all due respect. The twins are the offspring of the battle-god and the Greek goddess of love. I beg your pardon in asking, but is that wise?”

  “No. But your goddess of love will learn to cry,” answered Tyler as he gathered himself and started to get down from his elevated seat at the bar.

  “Good luck to you, Master Mage. And for all it’s worth, tear them apart.”

  “That I will certainly do,” answered Tyler. His mind was unhampered now by the earlier effects of the emotional shock of Jorund’s death. He turned his attention to his guides. There will be time to mourn. But that time is not now.

  “Guys? You heard?”

  “Yes, Elder. What do you want us to do?”

  “Once we get out of the area of the inn, feel free to practice your targeting skills. Just avoid friendly casualties and damage to the city. But wait for me to attack first.”

  “We understand, Elder.”

  Tyler didn’t reply. In firm and steady strides, he walked towards the door of the inn.

  Nobody noticed Tyler when he stepped out of the door. The streets around the inn were full of rushing Dorian soldiers, all headed in the direction of the palace. In front of him was the avenue Danay mentioned. Nearer the inn, he could see hoplites forming up. Ahead of them were organized phalanx formations marching forward.

  He checked his barrier and added another side covering his back. It now formed a prow-shaped triangle around him, its height two feet taller than his head. He knew his guides could create openings in the shield for their attack spells. The noise was unbelievably louder now that he was in the open. The tramp of marching and running men, the metallic clank of armor and weapons, shouted orders, and the chaos that accompanied battle surrounded him. He could see a few smoke trails coming from affected buildings, but evidently, structural damage was kept to a minimum.

  Tyler stepped out into the porch and the ground in front of the inn. As he took several steps towards the avenue, some Dorians noticed him. The mage ignored the orders to halt and kept on walking. After a short while, he knew somebody did recognize him when a phalanx was formed facing him with leveled spears. He stopped. The soldiers flanking him also organized themselves hurriedly. Tyler found himself in a small o
pen space with Dionysus’s temple at his back and spears on three sides. He could hear murmurs of “mage” coming from the ranks of the arrayed phalanges.

  Soldiers. Ordinary men who just follow orders, he resignedly thought. Each representing a family or a loved one.

  Grasping his staff, he forced his will and energy into what he was going to say.

  “Soldiers! If you don’t want to die, leave the city now!” Tyler could see the energy accompanying his shout, roiling through the air, and blowing through the hoplites. The force was strong enough to remove some helms and bowl men over. So that’s how it’s done.

  No reply was made by the soldiers. He could see more men being organized at the bank of the formations. Down the avenue, hoplites were turning back and running towards his position. Tyler could hear officers bellowing orders to hold and prepare to attack. He shook his head and made ready.

  “So be it. You made your choice!”

  As he shouted, a massive blizzard of small blades materialized around him, all facing the phalanges. He released them. And created another one, this time directed at the soldiers preparing at the back of the formations. They were simple blades, the size of small knives, with no fiery energy in them. The mage also wished to avoid burning portions of the city. He hoped Hal had developed better control of his fireball. Better than him.

  “Hal. No structural damage, please. We may burn down the city.”

  “Of course, Elder.”

  Immediately turning his attention back to the effects of the first spell, he observed that the blades had cut through ordinary armor like a fast ship through water. Nobody in the organized disposition of hoplites was left standing. As the second blizzard hit, those at the back starting dying. On his three sides were rank upon rank of dead and dying men, bathed in their blood and festooned with viscera. Many were cut into pieces, together with their weapons and armor. His guides hadn’t even done anything yet. Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. An ornately armored figure came out of hiding and was starting to run for the main gate.

  “X, if you please.” A ray of energy blew the man apart.

  He walked forward, gingerly stepping over the remains of the phalanx in front of him. It was hopeless. He couldn’t avoid stepping on the blood-soaked ground. In front were Dorian soldiers who had stopped upon witnessing the carnage. He could see officers starting to push and prod them into a formation.

  And here I thought the bloodbath would give them pause.

  “X, the officers.”

  Several white bolts flew forward, through the gaps of the unorganized men and again tore apart their targets. Blood and human remains rained on nearby soldiers.

  “That’s a new one, X.”

  “Yes, Elder. Derived from the lesser Elder blast ability. Thinner and smaller bolts instead of one large beam. I was not able to get all the officers I could see, Elder. Some were behind their men.”

  “It’s alright, X. You do have to teach me that.”

  “Transferring information now, Elder.”

  Tyler again stopped. He repeated his offer for the soldiers to leave the city. Arrows bounced off his shields in response. He was fast getting tired of giving the enemy a chance to leave and survive.

  “Let’s clean the street,” he told his guides.

  With that, all hell broke loose for the Dorians. The avenue was a long one and was filled with masses of men. Hoplites, peltasts, and other soldiers were bunched together in their effort to force their way to the palace grounds. It was a one-sided slaughter.

  Hal’s fireballs, X’s bolts, and his blades created a huge magical meatgrinder. Few men were able to cry out in the few seconds the powerful vortex of spells enveloped the street. By the time Tyler finished with his third blizzard spell, he could see up to the barricade at the end of the road. Piles of dead grimly decorated the street. Some Dorians were desperately seeking to sneak past him to the rear. He let them go.

  Magic can be countered only with magic, he thought. Ordinary soldiers fighting the conventional way have no chance. They die the unconventional way.

  Then he felt several explosions against the barrier at his back. Fireballs, he noted. Weak ones? Or a stronger shield? He turned and faced his attackers. Five men were walking towards him. Not in armor but clad in hooded robes of red.

  Must be mages devoted to Ares. What was the term Athena used? Magoi. Ares’s magoi.

  “Surrender, magus! And we will let you live. There are five of us! All blessed by the god of battle!”

  Tyler’s response was a chain lightning bolt directed at the mage in the middle. He didn’t wait to see the results. He knew they were good as dead. The energy he used was as intense as the one he used against Minis, the Greek god of threats.

  My abilities as a High Mage are indeed powerful, he observed. Probably approaching the level of an equivalent minor deity but with mortal weaknesses. These are deadly abilities for a mere human to exercise. But then again, an ordinary blade could kill me. That’s perspective for you, Mr. West.

  He continued walking, taking care to avoid the human debris densely scattered along the street. His sandals were already slick with blood, and the gore was starting to dry. They made sickening sucking and sloshing sounds whenever he walked through a thick red pool. He passed groaning men clutching at parts of their bodies. A few were trying to crawl away. Tyler ignored them.

  Ahead, he could see fighting in front of the barricade. A large group of Dorians was clustered around somebody. Surprisingly, the Akrotiri defenders behind the barrier were not doing anything to help. Now and then, a hoplite on the outside of the circle of soldiers would fall. Tyler’s vision showed him that arrows were to blame. He looked up the structures on the side of the barricade. He could see a figure drawing his bow against the Dorians.

  Habrok. His heart jumped at the sight of his companion. And the figure in the middle of all of those soldiers must be Astrid.

  Tyler went to the side of the street and continued to watch the furious skirmish. It was a melee. The Dorians were trying to crowd the Valkyrie, the broken spears on the ground attesting to the effectiveness of Astrid’s tactics in destroying whatever formation they had. The mage looked down the road towards the inn to make sure no unwelcome surprises were coming. This street battle belonged to Astrid and Habrok alone, judging from the strange inaction of the Akrotiri soldiers behind the barricade. A heart-breaking cathartic exercise for mourning.

  In a final flurry of blades, Astrid disposed of the last four Dorian hoplites. Even Tyler found it next to impossible to keep track of Astrid’s moves. The few motions he was able to perceive displayed the form and style of the Valkyrie. Every action of the warrior was a defensive and offensive movement in one. Like when a hoplite thrust a spear at her from the side while another swung an overhead slash from the front, with a hoplon protecting the Dorian’s left side. Her response was instinctive and a result of years of practice. Her inhuman agility and speed did help. She swiftly moved forward, closing with the sword-wielding hoplite, and avoiding the spear. But in the same movement, her left sword swung to the back, cutting the pike, while her body was already angled to the right, her xiphos in her right hand deftly piercing the wrist of the sword hand of her opponent.

  By the time she took her second step, the left xiphos was already slashing the throat of the hoplite in a left to right motion as the soldier created a momentary opening by his reaction to being struck in the wrist. His sword dropped, and his right arm involuntarily swung to the right while the hoplon fell to the level of the chest in reaction to the sudden pain. As her sword was cutting a bloody swathe through the Dorian’s gullet, the right already swinging downwards to slash a gory path on the right thigh of another hoplite. As that soldier fell to the ground on the wounded leg, the left xiphos was already on its way to his face while the right sword had now blocked yet another sword and was quickly sliding down along the blade towards the attacker’s hand. Her legs already had moved to balance her posture and prepa
re for the next sequence of killing movements. The mage saw that her enhanced swords did play havoc with the ordinary armor of the hoplites. The iron helms and cuirasses could have been cardboard as far as her xiphoi were concerned. And while she was twirling among nearby Dorians in a smooth mimicry of a deadly dance, Habrok’s arrows were swiftly killing the others. Her lithe and calculated moves reminded Tyler of a ballet, executed speedily and flawlessly. It was quickly over.

  Astrid stood for a while among the jumbled and heaped bodies around her. Tyler saw no sign of heavy exertion. She was not breathing heavily nor were her shoulders slumped in exhaustion. Then she walked in his direction, a warrior whose black armor was now mainly splashed in red. Astrid did pause to clean her swords on the cape of a headless hoplite, then sheathed them at her back. Habrok stayed on top of the building.

  “Greetings, sire,” said Astrid, sadness evident in her firm voice. Blood was all over the face protected by the open Illyrian helm. But the redness of her eyes further betrayed her.

  “Hello, Astrid. I am sorry I came late. I already heard.”

  “There’s no need to apologize, High Mage. Nobody expected those bastards to move. They caught everybody, even deities, by surprise.”

  “We’ll worry and think about those matters after the battle, Astrid. Jorund would have liked us to move and finish this as promptly as we could. That way, we could avoid more deaths.”

  “I believe so. We should finish this battle first before we mourn our dead.”

  “Please call Habrok. We need to discuss what to do next,” ordered Tyler.

  The Valkyrie walked to the middle of the street and called out. Habrok dropped to the ground.

  “Sire.” Habrok bowed. When Tyler saw his face, he couldn’t avoid noticing the swollen area around the eyes. The mage walked over to him and held him by the shoulders. Astrid looked on but quickly averted her eyes. She turned her back and gazed towards the gate.

  “Be strong, Habrok. There’s still work to be done. Our friend wouldn’t want us to leave a job half-done.”