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

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  “Thanks, Dio. I appreciate this gesture. It does scare me silly carrying this pouch, but I believe I will need it,” said Tyler. He then turned to Viracocha.

  “Where will Habrok appear in your kingdom and how will we find him?” he asked the Incan.

  “At my temple at the outskirts of Paititi, the religious center of the kingdom. Don’t ask why my temple is on the outskirts of the city. You know the reason for it. I will give Habrok instructions. My priests will be expecting him and we can meet there later. There will also be a warrior from Kemet. Thaut was sufficiently concerned about the situation to volunteer one of his champions. Whether you accept or refuse the services of such a warrior is up to you. If you do admit the priestess as part of your band of hell raisers, it would be up to you to dictate the terms of her service,” answered Viracocha.

  Priestess? Her?

  “Have you recovered?” asked Tyler.

  “I am old, boy. But not that old. Some pain but tolerable,” said the Incan as he stood up.

  “Sorry, I sometimes forget that you’re not mortal nor human,” apologized Tyler.

  The Incan smiled and mischievously winked at him.

  “You should say that to me frequently,” said Dionysus, as he chuckled.

  It was Tyler’s turn to smile.

  “Please brief Habrok and Astrid. I’ll go and talk to Tyndur. I don’t think he means me harm. His aura doesn’t give me that vibe. More like amused.”

  “Vibe?” the two asked in unison.

  “It means vibration. A sense of something. Jargon from the First World,” answered the mage.

  “Vibe. Rolls off the tongue nicely. I think I’ll keep it,” said the wine god. Viracocha amusedly shook his head.

  When they got to the waiting group, Tyler gestured for Tyndur to go to one side while the others talk.

  “My condolences and apologies, First Mage,” said Tyndur as the two met on the other side of the bier. “Jorund was a good man. Braver than many. Wiser than most.”

  “First Mage?” guardedly asked Tyler. He was surprised the einherjar knew the title. That fact indicated the involvement of a deity or deities. From what Tyndur said upon his arrival, that probably would be Odin.

  “The god with the eye-patch told me about it. Though I should have expected it when you showed up back in the mountains. Only that old man could think of something like that. Two questions solved with one answer. You with that quest of yours and him on my whereabouts,” sighed the einherjar. “I really would like to have nothing to do with them, but he convinced me that our paths are related. That is if you would have my services.”

  The priestess and now, Tyndur. Those four deities did mention new companions. More deaths? I know I need the help, but can I handle the burden? How about Tyndur’s own quest? Would that complicate my task? Competing for the same knowledge? Shit. I need more time to think about this.

  The other four had already finished with their discussion and were walking in their direction.

  “Can I think about your offer, Tyndur? With the death of Jorund and other developments, I don’t think I could properly consider matters. We need to talk about it some more or we both may come to regret it.”

  “Of course, First Mage. But are you leaving Akrotiri? I can’t leave without a decision on your part!”

  “We’re going to southern parts, Tyndur. It may be some time before I can return. If I do come back.”

  “AH! I think I understand! The Aztecah problem I have heard so much about. News had already reached Skaney from traders and travelers. Gruesome details too.”

  “I guess you understand why I can’t decide on your offer right now,” said Tyler.

  “Nonsense, First Mage! I’ll go with you. You can think about it when we get there. You won’t be fighting all the time anyway. And I think I need a good cause to exercise the old berserker skills. Fighting the Aztecah invasion of neighboring lands is better than what’s available right now in Skaney. Aptrgangr, ulfhedinn, and other creatures have been coming out in numbers. I hear even Ymir’s domain is troubled by them. But that’s a task for mortals. At least, those so-called Champions of the Oak now have something to do instead of drinking, wenching, or making nuisances of themselves. This quest of yours is more interesting! A few against hundreds of thousands! Dying with a blade in one’s hands against an unending wave of enemies!”

  Tyler winced and gulped at the einherjar’s enthusiastic description.

  “I am mortal, Tyndur. If I die, then it’s over for me. But nobody will die, not if I can help it,” he answered.

  “Excellent! You do know I can die now?”

  “No? I thought you guys die and revive at the end of the day. Then back to Valhalla for mead and feasting.”

  “But I am not in Valhalla right now, am I? I can die out here. Well, it will take some effort to kill me, but the result is still a mortal’s end,” replied Tyndur.

  “Sorry, didn’t know that.”

  “No need to apologize, First Mage. Though your ‘nobody-is-dying’ speech is quite welcome. SO! Can I go with you? If you decide against my service, then I can go on with the people there. Nothing like dying in a good fight!”

  To that extent, he does sound like Jorund. Ready to fight for a good cause. Warriors. So eager to die. At least Jorund and this guy don’t have families to cry over their deaths. Scratch that thought. We are Jorund’s family. And his death hurts us more. We fought beside him. But what to do about Tyndur? The hell with it, I’ll settle matters when we get there. His strength and prowess would be welcome.

  “You win, Tyndur. You can come with us. I’ll make a choice about the offer later. But you have to obey me until I come up with my decision,” said Tyler.

  “Of course! What’s a battle without a leader?” came the reply.

  Tyler turned to the others who were waiting on them.

  “Tyndur’s coming to help. But I haven’t made up my mind yet on his offer of service. Habrok, as discussed, you do have to remain here for a while to arrange the funeral.”

  “Yes, sire. I have been instructed by Wilan. My travel arrangements are arranged.”

  Wilan? Tyler missed the name for an instant. Then he remembered it was the one adopted by Viracocha.

  “I’ll be here to help,” added Dionysus.

  “Thanks, Master Dio,” Tyler said. His gaze fell on the battleaxe lying on top of Jorund’s shroud.

  “Habrok, would it be possible for Tyndur to wield Jorund’s battleaxe? Seems a waste to add it to the funeral pyre.”

  “Jorund would be honored if his weapon continues in your service, sire. For now, while Tyndur fights for you, he can use it,” replied Habrok.

  “You familiar with the battleaxe, Tyndur?” Tyler asked the einherjar.

  “Familiar, First Mage? A battleaxe was my first weapon and my choice when I was mortal. This staff was more proper for a hermit. And I was without armor nor weapon when I returned to this world,” Tyndur embarrassedly admitted.

  “About Jorund’s armor, Habrok?”

  “It has been set aside, sire. We have already discussed it back in Scarburg that the weapons and armor we received from our hosts belong to you and your quest. That way, we continue in our service to you in that form,” Habrok clarified.

  A wave of mixed feelings of guilt, sadness, pride, and thankfulness crashed into Tyler’s being.

  I thought of it before and I’ll maintain what I felt back then. No better set of companions could I find in the whole of Adar.

  “Please give them to Tyndur, Habrok. He can use them. I doubt if his robe will stop swords, arrows, and spears.”

  “I will look funny dancing on the battlefield wearing this, First Mage. And my thanks.”

  Habrok got the battleaxe and gave it to Tyndur. He left to get the armor. Tyndur received the weapon with both hands extended and while holding it, faced in the direction of Jorund’s body and gave a deep bow.

  “There’s some magic in this weapon, First Mage. Asleep but near
awakening. Must have gone through a lot of battles,” said Tyndur as he held it in his hand, trying out its balance and weight.

  “Tyndur, please call me ‘sire’ instead. The title ‘First Mage’ is wearing me down, not to mention that it’s a dead giveaway for assassins. And don’t dare call me ‘my lord’. That one is worse.”

  “As you command, sire,” said the einherjar with another bow.

  When Habrok came back, the group waited while Tyndur pulled on the armor. The einherjar didn’t find any difficulty putting them on as he was similar in bulk to the deceased huskarl.

  While Tyndur was equipping himself, Tyler went to Habrok and told him about the priestess who might be there. Astrid was standing beside Habrok as he broke the news.

  “Another candidate for the group,” he told them. “Be on your best behavior, Habrok. She’s a priestess so probably a mage and a warrior too. She can probably shrivel your balls.”

  “I understand, sire. Though all this talk of cutting off my balls and shriveling them does not contribute to the rise of any amorous intentions on my part as far as our companions are concerned.” He turned and gave Astrid a slight nod.

  “Oh, she’s a priestess alright. The head priestess of one of the three major temples of the god Thaut. But she’s also his daughter with a mortal woman and that effectively makes her a demigoddess,” said Viracocha. “So she can shrivel balls while setting them on fire too.”

  The air around them resounded with Dionysus’s laughter.

  Chapter Lore:

  Kveldulfr – Norse. Meaning “evening-wolf”. A womanizer.

  Paititi – Quechua. A long-lost Incan city, called the legendary city of gold. The Spanish looted only a small amount of gold in the capital and suspected that the gold must have been hidden somewhere. Paititi was the place they suspected it to be as it was considered as the last refuge of the Inca. But they didn’t know its location. Some allege that the Vatican knew where it was since the 1600’s but kept it secret. The word “Paititi” is used in this book as the name of an Incan city in Adar. This version of Paititi serves as the religious center of the Inka Kingdom.

  Aptrgangr – Norse. Meaning “again-walker”, its plural form is aptrganga. More commonly known as draugr (plural form “draugar”), it refers to a kind of undead creature in Norse mythology. There are sea and land aptrgangr. The modern equivalent of the term would be a revenant since they are known to stay in tombs to guard wealth interred with the dead though the creatures are said to have the ability to venture from such places. Some beliefs hold that a bite from an aptrgangr will turn the victim into one of them.

  Ulfhedinn – Norse. The term means “one wearing a wolf’s skin”. A werewolf. The concept of the werewolf is entrenched in Nordic mythology starting with Fenrir, the wolf son of Loki, who is prophesied to kill Odin during Ragnarok.

  Chapter IX

  A Storm Breaks

  “It’s time to go.”

  Those words, coming from the Incan guide, stopped everybody. Those set to leave went to the old man while Habrok and Dionysus stepped away. The two kept a considerable distance from the gathered individuals around Viracocha.

  Then Tyler heard Viracocha’s voice in his mind as his companions gathered and did some final checking of their gear.

  “I apologize, Havard, for putting you and your companions at enormous risk. The enemy is powerful. Strong. Blood magic fuels them and their armies. If a situation is too risky, retreat. I will not have a death on your hands so soon after Jorund.”

  “Thanks, Viracocha. But I believe they all knew the risks of going south.”

  “I hope they do. But once we arrive, I have to leave. The rules are clear. I cannot be involved in a mortal dispute, but I will observe what’s happening in my temple.”

  “You know, that reminds me. Don’t your defenses protect your temple? Dionysus’s temple is protected.”

  “Like his temple, mine is protected against magical entities and deities. Ordinary men and beasts can enter. How else can our worshippers venerate us? And why do you think some temples are infested with rats?” chuckled the Incan. “Though in the wine god’s situation, every night is worship night.”

  The Incan turned to the warriors.

  “Ready, warriors?”

  “HAH! A battle! With enemies dire and foul, war beckons. Though death be the reward, my will grows, and my axe hungers. Let them come! For Jorund’s Justice awaits, and Tyndur’s battle arm is willing!” declared Tyndur.

  “Jorund’s Justice?” asked Tyler. He’s back to his skaldic mode. Given his mood, he’ll probably sing while bashing heads and cutting off limbs.

  “The battleaxe, sire. I gave it a name.”

  “Sounds fitting,” said Tyler. “Wilan, I guess it’s time to go.”

  “Close your eyes. We will appear on the back of a hill overlooking the fighting. It had already gone past the temple. There is a small magical barrier in place, preventing entry to or departure from the immediate area of the battle. But we will be able to penetrate that barrier. Once we arrive, I will have to leave you,” advised Viracocha.

  Tyndur and Astrid looked at each other. The extent of the Incan’s abilities surprised them.

  “He’s a mage,” explained Tyler. “Or their version of one.”

  He knew Tyndur, as an einherjar, could sense something compelling in the Incan. Tyler hoped the explanation would suffice. The Incan’s age and seeming physical weakness would also help justify his unwillingness to engage in battle.

  A glow started to surround them, beginning with a circle on the pavement grounds. Tyler realized that they were making a spectacle and that all eyes on the square are now on them. Explaining matters would be Dionysus’s job.

  The familiar disorientation hit Tyler. Then he heard somebody speak to him. It was not Viracocha.

  “Greetings, First Mage. You may open your eyes,” a deep, gravelly voice spoke to him.

  Tyler opened his eyes. He was back in the hillside where he met Palirroia, the Ismenian drakon. And in front of him was a huge white one. A being who dwarfed Palirroia on its right and another drakon on its left side.

  “Don’t mind this, First Mage. It’s but an illusion,” said the white drakon. The low bass voice was calm but resonated with power.

  “How? What?” stammered Tyler. The abruptness of the encounter, one far from what he expected, unnerved him.

  “Your ring,” said Palirroia. “It also allows us to find you.”

  “But our guest seems shocked,” observed the white drakon. “Allow me first to introduce myself. I am Anemothýella, or windstorm in your language. The other one is Nýchta. The night. Greek names. A language familiar, yet also a reminder of our previous servitude. I am the oldest of our race and I will have words with you.”

  “An honor to meet you all,” replied Tyler who had regained some of his composure. He realized Ares’s ring was warming his hand.

  “My appearance discomfits you, First Mage. Here, this form will ease your nervousness,” said Anemothýella as he transformed into a man with white chiton, sandals, and cloak. He now looked like a bearded man of fifty years, but all his hair was white.

  A dragon with the power to look like a human. A truly powerful one, as Dionysus said. What were the options, as the wine god mentioned? Grovel abjectly, run away as fast as you can, or be very polite. The first two choices are out so I’ll settle for the third. Though make him two decades older, give him a staff, and you’ll have Gandalf.

  “I am doubly privileged for you to take such a measure to reassure me,” said Tyler. “To what do I owe this honor? I do have an appointment to the south.”

  “You’re welcome, First Mage. But don’t worry about time. While we are in the energy of our Mother, you won’t lose time.”

  “Mother?”

  “This world. Adar, as mortals and deities call it. We don’t have gods as humans do, but we also worship the sister of the being who gave birth to us. But we need to turn our attention to our c
oncern. It does take some effort to remain in the ambient field of what you call magic.”

  “But how did you do this?” asked Tyler, mystified as to the abilities of the drakontes.

  “Palirroia gave me an account of what happened on that hill. Didn’t he tell you that we are ancient, that we have secrets and abilities the gods don’t know?”

  “Yes, he did. But this! Being able to be a part of the magical energy of Adar!” exclaimed Tyler.

  “I do hope you’ll keep that to yourself. And I know you are going to ask me how was Ares able to bind us. I am not going to answer that. Suffice it to say that in the early days, we were a more trusting and welcoming race. We were glad when humans arrived. We tried to help them survive and evolve. And that willingness extended to their creations, the deities of the First World.”

  “You’re now angry at Zeus and Ares?”

  “Anger is such a strong, primitive, yet dark emotion. No, we are not angry. We accept the consequences of being fooled once. Though to be clear about it, Zeus asked Ares to free us when the Great Migration started. The coward didn’t. Probably thought he could make use of us in some of his schemes. He never did realize our powers and strengths. I guess Zeus never told him. Or never trusted him with the knowledge. Or I could be overestimating the knowledge of Zeus. Who knows?”

  “Why am I here then? Palirroia told me the ring of Ares only held part of the power which bound your race. That it had limits. Not that I know how to use this bauble,” said Tyler.

  “That’s why we had to talk. When Ares was made a minor god, almost all his powers went back to the energy of this world. Except what’s on that ring.”

  HUH? Freaking divine ring! Even jewelry now gives me headaches!

  “Can you please explain further? I am confused about all of this.”

  “Simple really. We are still bound, in some form, to you. Not like the chains of power the former god of battle used on us, but still a chain.”