Thou shalt weaponless wait, poor wretch."
Chapter Nineteen
Dwarven Rumble
The conversation was unexpectedly interrupted by a sudden blackness. It was not mere darkness; it was total oblivion. Tyler couldn’t even see an inch away from his face.
“They’re here. But this is but a minor incursion,” the mage heard his companion explain, just as he regained his eyesight due to the entity’s intervention. “Marking their arrival with the natural darkness enshrouding their reality makes it easier for them to move in this dimension.”
“Uh, thanks.” But Tyler was intently looking down on the field below as he offered his gratitude for getting his sight back.
The lighting was dimmer than usual, reminding him that the intense darkness still engulfed the cave, that only the magic of his companion granted him sight. A large collection of dark clouds was rising from the small lake, barely fitting into the opening of the natural feature. Flashes of an unnatural black light surrounded the pulsing mass which looked as if they were forcibly morphed together to provide the maximum number the egress could accommodate.
Halfway out of the maelstrom of dark energy, the bizarre mass gave out a dark, wide, and circular beam arching toward the roof of the cavern. Then pieces started peeling off the cloudy mass. The murky clumps jumped to solid ground, growing tentacular extensions all over their bodies as they leaped. As the eldritch cloud sprouted its offspring, whatever matter it lost was immediately replaced.
Fucking non-stop cotton candy.
Tyler suddenly saw some of the rocks move and roll forward, heading to the small monstrosities now on solid ground. Wherever they landed, the earth and rocks beneath them turned black. Upon reaching the new arrivals, the rocks uncoiled to reveal tall and solid humanoid forms. Their arms were shaped like weapons, though most preferred large hammer-like extensions on both appendages. Some adopted a hammer-and-shield arrangement.
“Golems?” uttered the mage as he ventured a guess.
“Not really. They’re energy beings, one of the oldest lifeforms on Adar. Unlike golems–a specialty of your mages—the outer stone shell is merely meant to protect them from magical and physical strikes. Their opponents would like nothing more than to enlarge the opening provided by that dark lake. To do that, they need to increase its size, an attempt which would not go unchallenged.”
“Should I go help them?” asked Tyler, worried, as he noticed more and more of the repulsive creatures joining the fray.
“Don’t worry yourself about it, mage. It’s a minor matter. The invading creatures are but juveniles.”
Juveniles? They’re huge! I can clearly see them from way up here!
The creatures were tearing apart the stone defenders but suffering casualties themselves. He observed that the stone warriors focused their attacks on something inside the attackers. It must have been a small target; the mage could see blows pass harmlessly through the smoky bodies, creating no damage.
“Your defenders are getting smashed,” Tyler finally had to say it out loud.
“Most escaped any damage. Their physical forms protected them. If you noticed, more of them are joining the battle. Unless their energy is substantially dissipated, they are safe.”
The mage could see she was right. Lumps of rocks rose up and once again threw themselves against the intruders. Then, against a large clump of the attackers, he saw an extraordinary sight. Several defenders lined up, touched extremities and instantly turned into a long and sturdy wall. Their brethren modified their forms and became taller, towering over the barrier, and all were armed with double mauls. They smashed any attacker stopped by the wall.
“They do know how to fight,” commented Tyler with some relief.
“These children of mine might be simple in mind, but they’re patient and had long years of practice and experience. But they’re not the only ones waiting to defend this world. Other defenders wait in the wings. But our time to leave this place is nigh, but there is one who would like to honor his lord.”
A shadow detached itself from one rock on a wall and flew toward them. Due to the dim light, Tyler could only see its shape as it got closer. It had the majestic form of a massive dragon. As it steadily closed the gap between them, the mage immediately recognized the white creature.
It was Anemothýella Windstorm, the Ismenian drakon.
Aloft in the air before them, the massive creature bowed first to Tyler’s companion and then to the mage. A flat earthen extension of the escarpment promptly appeared beneath the being. The huge dragon lowered itself to it.
“My lady. My lord,” acknowledged Anemothýella.
“Fancy meeting you here,” smiled Tyler.
“This has always been our place, my lord. You witnessed the kind of terror we have fought and kept from reaching the surface world. There are more dangerous entities waiting behind the veil. With the help of my kin and allies, we will continue to maintain our vigilance.”
The mage turned to his companion.
“Is Anemothýella also an energy form?” he asked.
“Yes. The oldest among Adar’s children and patterned after the first who crossed into this world.”
“Dragons were the first to cross over?” said Tyler, taken aback by the admission.
This is really turning out to be another of those surprising days, the mage thought. There’s already a lot to information to process when I wake up. Hal and X picked an unfortunate time to go visiting.
“The mightiest, most magical of your world’s creatures, able to sense this dimension and create gateways. But when your dragons started crossing over, their magic furiously reacted to my spell to form my children. An unforeseen melding of energy and physical forms resulted because of their sheer raw magical power. I might be the master of all matters magical here, but not in their dimension. But Anemothýella’s line remains pure, unlike others of the race, descendants degenerating into beasts or mindless savagery. Wise ones of the older families do remain, but hard to find and in seclusion,” replied the avatar.
“You mean dragons of the First World merged with the living energy forms of Adar?”
“That’s what I said, mage. As a result, not many were created. It was a mistake I dare not repeat. Their bodies remained, but their minds and energies were that of my children. So, you might encounter drakontes, draken, wyrms, or similar creatures who are of your world. Some are friendly enough, but most are not. But all, like their kind, are perennially hungry,” she noted. “So many names and descriptions, but in the end, they all refer to a walking and flying massive magical creature of enormous power.”
“But the owner of the scales from which your armor was created is of my line; mortals called him Old Greyskin. I knew him, and it’s unwise to use that epithet for such a difficult old crab. He has to decide whether to share it with you. If ever you meet the old curmudgeon, call him Kàdíís, my name for him, meaning wildcat in an old Nubian language. Never call him Kàjnóndí, meaning donkey, an unfortunate incident and a tale for another time,” said the white dragon. “Remember Kàdíís. That way, he’ll know we’ve met.”
“Kàdíís, not Kàjnóndí. Got it. May you fare well in the struggle, Anemothýella Windstorm. I could have used your aid this time, but see you have bigger problems here. As for me, I still have hordes of bizarre undead to face. Several millennia’s worth, if my assumption is correct,” said Tyler.
The battle below them was still going on though the number of intruders appeared to be diminished and the black beam looked like it had lost some of its nauseating aura.
“The host I am going to face is beyond my experience, Windstorm. For all you know, you might find yourself another lord on the morning after the battle,” said Tyler in a wry tone.
The white dragon stared at him but said nothing. Then the imposing mountain of a wyrm bowed to them as the pair started to disappear.
“Please don’t tell me what those smoky creatures are. I don’t want to know that right now. With my l
uck, even asking about what they are could turn into a quest. I figure I’ll learn about them when it becomes necessary,” Tyler told the avatar.
“As you wish,” said the being. It could have been his imagination, but Tyler believed he could sense laughter in the answer.
***
Unexpectedly, the mage found himself suddenly alone, swiftly moving toward a dot of light in the distance.
Either she’s a really bad date or I’m dead.
A momentary soundless force buffeted him as Tyler neared his destination, forcing him to close his eyes. When the effects of the occurrence passed, he opened them. The wooden ceiling of the guest room greeted him.
Bad date then. No goodbyes even.
The last thing he remembered before finding himself alone was being in the boundless white space again. The mage was still trying to get information he could utilize to his advantage now the grant of additional abilities was out of the equation.
"Could you just tell me who the bad and good guys are? That would make my problems, as you described it, infinitely simpler."
"You of all mortals should have long realized that nothing is really black or white for men and thinking beings. A fair appearance could belie a black heart, and an untrustworthy visage hide a pure and dedicated soul. Deities, on the other hand, for better or for worse, have their own plots and schemes to play. They are, after all, but reflections of their makers," replied the avatar, shooting down another attempt of Tyler.
"But there are black ones? I mean, you are fighting them now to prevent their emergence on this world,” the mage persisted. “Not to mention solitary dark beings who crossed over from the First World. And don’t get me started on beyond ugly dimensional entities.”
"A being greater than I could light your path along that way of inquiry, but suffice to say that before the light was darkness. And it was never said that the void was entirely empty."
The conversation stopped at that point and Tyler found himself rapidly on his way back to his body. The mage did remember peevishly thinking that the avatar’s action was cheating – cutting off any further questions from a decidedly insistent and persistent mage.
“You’re awake, sire. The mage Aage will be here in thirty minutes.” He heard Kobu’s reminder.
I wonder if Kobu slept?
“A moment, Kobu. Let me prepare myself. I was hoping to wake up back home and realize that this was all but a dream,” said Tyler.
The exile laughed. “The thought sometimes occurs to me when I wake up, just before I open my eyes.”
***
The monumental revelations got Tyler engrossed in his thoughts even as the party was walking toward the jarl’s room. The mage knew there were a lot of permutations and facets involving the events and matters he had witnessed. He needed time to think and make sense of some of it. The knowledge and experience given to him were priceless, and he doubted if any deity or mortal had been given the same privilege.
All that information on top of everything else, thought the mage, reflecting on his recent experiences. I desperately need some time away from lethal distractions and deadly visitors. Fossegrim would do nicely. I pray everything’s fine with Eira. Thankfully, her forest would right now be the safest place in the entire realm.
As they were nearing the door of the designated meeting place, the sound of many voices raised in anger erupted from behind them. It came from the direction of the throne room. Unfortunately, it was in a language unfamiliar to the mage. The group immediately formed their defensive formation.
“Svartalfar and their kin,” observed Tyndur. “I’d know those guttural voices anywhere. Two groups, one using a variant of the language. Cursing each other terribly, and busy bashing each other too.”
Tyler could hear at times the shouts of the jarl, trying to get the combatants to stop. He guessed nobody was brave enough to step between the two fighting groups. A man came running toward them. Seeing the formation before him, with the readied weapons, he skidded to a stop. He looked toward Aage.
“Begging your pardon, battle mage, but the jarl is urgently requesting that the High Mage and his party proceed first to the throne room.”
“What’s happening? An attack?” asked Aage.
“Nothing of the sort, sire,” said the man. Tyler noticed the messenger had a thin iron band around his neck. “I wasn’t there, but was told that two groups of dwarves were brought to the jarl simultaneously so as not to antagonize each group about protocol. But the minute the groups saw each other, ceremonial mattocks and hammers were brought out, and they attacked each other.”
“Come, please follow me, High Mage,” urged Aage as he led the way at a fast pace. The party followed, keeping to their defense pattern.
“Heh,” chuckled Tyndur after a loud snort. “Let me guess. You brought svartalfar and dvergar together, in the same room, at the same time.”
“I heard about some dwarves due for an audience today but no details other than that. But knowing the jarl, the first audience would just be the formal introduction. Another meeting would be set for whatever business the visitors have with him. He clearly didn’t expect this,” replied Aage who was now walking quicker. Tyndur now laughed hard and long. The einherjar clearly knew more about the dwarves than the ordinary mage.
The party reached a door. The noise coming from the room beyond had become impossible. Angry shouts, the clang of metal weapons, and the cry of the wounded filled the air.
“Now those are imaginative curses and insults. Even the wounded insert inspired expletives in their cries of agony. Talented in the art, that I could say,” commented the einherjar.
Tyler assumed the door was the entrance by which the jarl entered and exited the throne room. Aage opened it after making a few passes of his hand over the latch.
Magically protected too, thought the mage. No surprise there. It’s the jarl’s personal door after all.
The door opened to a scene of indescribable bedlam. The jarl was standing on his throne, with a wall of guards in front of him. He was still shouting at the warring groups to stop and settle down. Unfortunately, the dwarves were oblivious to what he was saying. Tyler’s party quickly entered the hall with Aage proceeding directly to the jarl. In front of Tyler were his companions, though they had different reactions to the chaotic and violent sight before them. Tyndur clearly found the fray extremely funny, Kobu looked on with an amused expression, while Habrok couldn’t believe his eyes.
But the First Mage could see nobody was dead yet among the battling mob. There were wounded ones, but he could see the armor of dwarves protected them from life-threatening injuries. One group had dark armor and were armed with small mattocks, while the other had shiny protective gear and hammers reduced in size. The ceremonial gears of both sides were beautiful, though now dented and scuffed. Almost every inch of the metal plate was covered with decorative engravings and runic inscriptions.
“High Mage! Do something about this! They won’t listen to me! I can’t have my throne room as a battleground!”
The shout of the jarl interrupted Tyler’s examination of the dwarves. They did look like the dwarves portrayed in movies back on Earth, taller though. The beings could be mistaken for short and stocky men. Most had beards – braided, tied, or arranged in other designs. Many even had thin gold ringlets in their hair and beards. Gold jewelry adorned a few of the individuals.
At the jarl’s loud call, a few of the dwarves in front of the jarl stopped fighting and looked toward Tyler’s group. The words High Mage obviously penetrated through the fog of battle for a few of the participants. But the rest continued with the messy melee.
“They’re enjoying themselves too much, sire,” said Tyndur. “A call to order might be needed.”
“Do you know how to speak their language?” the mage quickly asked.
“Only a few words, sire. But they understand the language of Skaney well enough.”
“What do you want to do, sire?” came the query from
X.
“Oh, you’re back. A sonic boom among those squabbling dwarves when I raise the staff. Not enough to hurt them but to shock them back to their senses,” Tyler said immediately. The guides must have come back when the party was hurrying to the jarl. He hadn’t noticed them returning to the staff.
Tyler raised his weapon. Instantly, a blast erupted in the middle of the ongoing commotion. It was a small one and covered only the area of the dwarven rumble. Even so, the party and the jarl with his guards were buffeted by the displaced air and briefly deafened by the explosive sound. As for the dwarves, those in the middle of the effect flew through the air and crashed against the walls and the ceiling of the throne room. Dwarves crashed into each other. Others tumbled to the far corners of the room. The middle of the room was cleared though piles of moaning dwarves now greeted their eyes. A few who were able to stay on their feet headed their way but were stopped by an invisible barrier the guides had set up across the room, protecting the side of Tyler and the jarl. The fighting stopped.
“Sire, may I be excused for a while?” urgently asked Tyndur, his face in conniptions.
“Why?”
“If I can’t release my laughter, I’ll burst,” answered the einherjar through tightly clenched lips. Tyndur quickly ran out the door and after several seconds was back at Tyler's side, face flushed. The mage didn't know how the warrior did it, but he heard no bellow of laughter while the einherjar was outside the room.
As the groggy and hurt dwarves picked themselves up, Tyndur sidled to the mage.
“I don’t think they’ll be fighting each other anytime soon, sire. But there’s a chance we’ll be the focus of the ire of both groups,” whispered the einherjar.
“You’re right, Tyndur. I see two individuals making their way toward us. Fast recovery. Impressive.”
“No surprise there, Fir… High Mage. They’re half-deaf already from working their forges and mining shafts. Sturdy bodies. Probably ate rocks for breakfast. I hate to kill such brilliant minds, but better them than me,” added the warrior.
The Accidental Archmage - Book Five: Loki's Gambit Page 21
