“First Mage? A Valkyrie messenger? The God Freyr?” Luckily, the questions were spoken in a low, almost reverential tone, limiting the people who heard them only to those gathered around the mage.
“I trust you will keep what you witnessed to yourselves,” requested the mage. Then Tyler glanced back at the scattered and injured warriors of the High King's warband and looked at the jarl.
“Kindly see them on their way back. Tell the High King he doesn’t want me angry, and I am halfway there.”
The jarl meaningfully looked at where the leader of the company fell to the ground.
“If he’s dead, the world is one less doltish warrior. If alive, then let that be a lesson in humility,” said Tyler, not even glancing where the jarl stared.
Then Sif came forward and poured mead for Loki in a crystal cup, and said:
53. "Hail too thee, Loki, | and take thou here
The crystal cup of old mead;
For me at least, | alone of the gods,
Blameless thou knowest to be."
He took the horn, and drank therefrom:
54. "Alone thou wert | if truly thou wouldst
All men so shyly shun;
But one do I know | full well, methinks,
Who had thee from Hlorrithi's arms,--
(Loki the crafty in lies.)"
Beyla spake:
55. "The mountains shake, | and surely I think
From his home comes Hlorrithi now;
He will silence the man | who is slandering here
Together both gods and men."
Loki spake:
56. "Be silent, Beyla! | thou art Byggvir's wife,
And deep art thou steeped in sin;
A greater shame | to the gods came ne'er,
Befouled thou art with thy filth."
Chapter Twenty-Five
A Strange War
Morning tantrum over, the mage went back inside the keep, determined to grab some sleep. Meeting Aage, he requested food be brought to his room. As Tyler walked back with Kobu following, he was surprised at the way people along the corridors reacted to seeing him. Those who couldn’t avoid him hurriedly pressed themselves against the walls, others who saw him coming ran away, and some quickly ducked into open rooms along the hallway. The mage stopped and asked Kobu about the strange, though comical, scene unfolding along the corridor. That was when the man told him about his stormy exile from the keep.
Mystified, Tyler continued and took the time to ask his guides.
“You heard? What’s with the gray aura with red streaks?” he inquired.
“You’re nearly an Adept, sire. An Elder Mage-Adept. At that level, your negative emotions start to manifest themselves unless you keep them in check. The phenomenon does occur at times at lower ranks, but at the adept level, they become a regular occurrence,” Hal explained hurriedly. “It must have happened after the conversion exercises.”
“Exercises. You make it sound like a morning walk, Hal.”
“Oh. You’d rather hear the alternative?” replied the guide smugly.
“On second thought, let’s consider it an exercise,” said Tyler. “No sense being reminded of the details. Is being a Mage-Adept responsible for what I felt back there? Cold and detached anger mixed with hot, boiling fury. A weird sensation – fire and ice.”
“It is, sire. A way your magical power offers you the option of which emotion will be given free rein. But do note what we said – nearly an Elder Mage-Adept,” clarified X. “Nearly there, but not quite.”
“Anger expressed in an impersonal manner, I can understand. What are the consequences of hot fury as a driving emotion for my actions?” asked the mage, taking careful attention, knowing he was learning something crucial, one which meant a world of difference between merely destroying his enemies or getting his companions killed as collateral damage.
“The latter is analogous to being in a berserk state of mind. Very dangerous. We might be able to mitigate some of the damage, but can’t even guarantee that,” said X.
“Simply put, you’ll probably end up destroying everything in sight. Or try to destroy everything in sight. Either way, it’s not going to be pretty,” added Hal. “That’s why we said you’re ‘nearly’ at the adept stage. You still lack control, a prerequisite for entering the first adept stage.”
“Remind me if I ever get to be dangerously close to such a mindset, will you?” said Tyler. “But for now, I need to sleep. I feel lightheaded, and I know that’s a sign of sleep deprivation. I’ll eat when I wake. Wait. First adept stage? How many stages are there?”
“Three,” replied X.
***
For the second time that morning, Tyler found himself being woken again. But at least he’d had an hour or two of sleep, judging from his more relaxed reaction when Kobu roused him.
Damn. Who the fuck is it this time?
“Who is it now, Kobu?”
“Your friend with the damned soul, sire. He says he’s just a messenger.”
Damned soul, damned soul. Most of them would have one, if you ask me.
“I can’t recall the person, Kobu.”
“The man who visited you in Wilan’s domain, at the old temple. You did say he was a damned son of a bitch.”
Lumeri!
“Ah, Lumeri. He’s a friend. Of sorts. Show him in,” said Tyler, eyeing the food laid out on the table. His stomach was grumbling.
Kobu went out and came back quickly, Lumeri in tow.
“Ah, good morning, Havard. Should I call you First Mage, or is it still High Mage? It’s confusing right now. It appears more mortals know of your status. Terribly confusing,” greeted the scribe.
“I would prefer High Mage, Lumeri. Come, eat with me,” said the mage, before he suddenly remembered the man’s curse. “Oh, I sincerely apologize, my friend. I forgot your… unique condition.”
“Oh, don’t mind it, High Mage. It’s refreshing to be treated like an ordinary mortal. I actually would prefer that, but I find my time to be occupied with deities, powerful entities, dark beings. All with stories to tell. All refusing to admit they’re frightened. That they won’t be remembered. You know, the usual,” answered Lumeri in a dismissive tone, punctuated by a wave of his hand.
“You don’t mind if I eat? I haven’t had breakfast, but I don’t want to insult you,” asked the mage.
“Eat away. I can do what I came for as you’re attacking those mounds of food. I can’t stay long anyway. There’s a siege coming, and it’s prohibited for me to get involved,” said the scribe.
“I could use the army of guardians protecting you,” laughed Tyler.
“I guess you could,” smiled Lumeri. “But to business.”
“You don’t mind if Kobu’s around to hear it?” asked the eating mage.
“Not if you don’t. The message is for you, not for me,” said the immortal scribe.
“Let’s hear it.”
“It comes from a defeated enemy. The sole but dying survivor of the Followers of Zin.”
Tyler nearly choked on his food at the extraordinary revelation.
“Go on,” he was finally able to blurt out. “I know at least one survived. That fellow on the other side of the portal when I was in an Aztecah temple.”
“She knows she’s dying. Actually, I could feel it when she surprisingly got hold of me. So, there’s no denying that fact. I didn’t even know the Followers knew I existed in this world. They did belong to a different congregation.”
She? Females are definitely deadlier on Adar.
“What does she have to say?” asked the intrigued Tyler.
Lumeri didn’t reply directly to the question. He sat still for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, and then turned to the mage.
“The Followers were an intriguing group, each being connected to the other members. Each can manifest the strength and knowledge of the others. The deaths of the others doomed the last member of that ancient cult. She knows who eliminated them and wants re
venge,” said Lumeri.
Tyler’s eyebrows arched in response to what the scribe said.
“And no, she doesn’t trust the deities of this world. She knows they’re but magical constructs born out of man’s imagination and fears. Doesn’t trust dark deities either. Those entities have their own agenda which differ from one to another. This dying entity wants to deal with the mortal mage who was able to defeat them. That battle showed her your ability and your willingness to risk yourself for a commitment.”
“What commitment? How could she know that?” replied the mage. The entire situation was starting to look like another convoluted issue.
“Exactly my question too. She said you don’t look like you’re from the Inka or nearby kingdoms, and no sane mercenary mage would undertake a mission to the heart of the Aztecah empire. That led her to infer that your attack arose out of a human moral commitment. I didn’t tell her there could be other possibilities, that the human mind is more complicated than they believed,” answered Lumeri in a matter-0f-fact tone.
“And she wants what?” asked Tyler, going directly to the issue.
“Revenge, as I said. And in return, knowledge and whatever power she has left. The transfer of energy would kill her, but she believes it’s a fair price to pay for a chance to get back at who eliminated them.”
“Did she tell you who was responsible?”
“A group of the same prehistoric race, though, as I mentioned, of a different church. A very powerful one. Worshippers of Cthulhu, she said. There are other cults, but she’s positive about this assumption.”
Another damned group of lost ones. Hal did mention something about them. Another group alive and kicking, contrary to what the Elders concluded. Could they be the squids? Other cults?
“Why doesn’t she come herself?” inquired the mage.
“Traveling is not an option for the dying. She’s also trying to husband all the energy she could spare for you, if you accept the proposal.”
“And where exactly is she now?”
“On Banna, the Forbidden Isle.”
Shit. Figures. Nothing’s ever easy.
***
Early afternoon found Tyler back at the platform atop the North Gate. The jarl had asked for his presence. Scouts had reported movement closer to Hedmark. Kobu, on his right side, was busy conferring with Skarde.
“Any specific details, Jarl Geir?” Tyler asked.
“Unfortunately, none. What we got was sent by a signal from the forward scouts, but the transmittal was cut off. The scouts on the left side of the approach, the ones closest to the enemy, also have not been heard from. I am assuming the worst and have given the order for our remaining lookouts to withdraw from the vicinity of the enemy. They are to find heights where they could observe with safety.”
Tyler merely nodded. Matters of grand warfare again. He appreciated the briefing but didn’t really understand the principles behind the strategies. The mage walked forward and gazed at the fields beyond. A sliver of darkness could be seen on the far horizon, but that was all. Details could not be discerned; it was too far even for his enhanced eyesight. A scrying spell appeared to be a waste of magical energy. He knew the numbers of the enemy was beyond counting, and sending the spell will probably just frighten his balls off.
Lumeri had left a few hours earlier, leaving him the decision of whether to accept the proposal of the dying Follower of Zin. The scribe left with the mage a description of the general location of the remaining Follower, saying that Tyler’s presence would be known to her once he arrived near the specified site. Then Hal helpfully reminded him about G’s information that an Elder temple was on the island nearly the size of a continent. The mage acidly replied that the guide’s sense of timing was at best, awful.
The mage put off the decision and concentrated on the original plan of his guides – the unraveling of the animating spell. There was no sense in dealing with the request as of the moment; they lose the coming battle and the question of deciding the proposal would be a moot one. The bad news was he had to wait until the main horde of the enemy or its leader was committed to the assault before Tyler could attempt anything.
It was only then that the energy concentration would be dense enough to attempt anything. X told him the presence of the Elder strand would ensure that the use of the bizarre energy resulting from the experiment would guarantee an adverse effect on the undead. As to what that effect would be and the extent of the damage it could do, his guides had no idea.
“If I know my brother, he’ll send probing attacks ahead of his army,” said the jarl.
Tyler glanced back.
“You do know he’s really not your brother anymore?” the mage asked.
“I know. But this undead version will be out for blood. Our pigs and chickens included,” laughed the jarl. “But I do remember his preference for night attacks. I guess it will be a long night for all of us.”
“Any report on any undead coming from the cemetery on the East Road?”
“None actually. Any sighting involved undead coming from the woods and the mountains. Not many.”
“I suspect the dead affected by the spell are those who died violently, either in battle or by accident. Those who died of disease and old age were not affected,” ventured Tyler.
“Then we can pull out men from the East Gate and transfer them here. With the dwarves’ help, we have blocked the Western and Southern Gates. The East Gate remains our exit point,” replied the jarl.
“Why not the South Gate?” the mage asked.
“Stenhus is too far. Barholm is nearer, even though it’s in the region of Voss. I have made arrangements with Jarl Leif. He’s a good friend. He even posted a substantial number of men midway between here and Barholm to serve as a blocking force in the event we are forced to withdraw.”
Tyler tried hard to remember what he could from Jorund’s map.
“Wouldn’t that be dangerous? We’ll be exposed to the enemy on that side, just as the withdrawal starts,” he observed.
“With all due respect to the jarl, we have made arrangements to protect that side, sire,” said Kobu. “Additional trenches and pits have been dug. More barricades have been set in place. Though more would be welcome.”
The mage smiled at the implied request of Kobu. “Done.”
“You heard?” he asked Birki.
“On it,” came the reply.
“Oh — and add more to our front. We’ll be fighting tonight,” added Tyler.
“I see. I’ll be talking to my rambunctious wards when I get back. They’ve been a handful lately. Too much energy. They need to let off some steam. In controlled and safe circumstances, as always,” said Birki.
“I don’t have any intention of involving them in the coming siege, Birki. It’s too dangerous,” replied the mage. The being didn’t reply and disappeared from his consciousness.
“Thank you, sire,” said Kobu, to the accompaniment of loud exclamations from the eastern side of the fortress.
“I’ll reassure the men, jarl. Then I'll proceed to the East Gate,” said Skarde as he set off on a run.
Suddenly, Tyler’s eyes picked up several specks flying toward them. They were still a long way off. He turned to the jarl.
“Well, a flock of the bony bastards appears to be on its way here. I assume they herald the coming of the probing attacks you mentioned. I’ll give us ten to fifteen minutes before those flyers arrive,” said the mage.
Kobu immediately leaned over the side of the bastion. They all could hear his shouted orders. For such a reserved warrior, the exile had an unusually loud voice when he put his mind to it.
“Flyers incoming! Ballistae get ready! The rest take cover! Shields up!”
Tyler could hear the commands being repeated along the battlements. The exile glanced at the mage.
“Any idea on how big they are, sire?”
“Not yet, Kobu. I’ll tell you when their details become clearer,” answered Tyler who then quizzica
lly looked at the man. “Wait. Ballistae?”
“The only weapons which can deal with flying creatures. Though only up to a certain size. The dwarven weapons are very versatile; they can fling weighted nets to bring down flyers. Their handlers have been busy coming up with various ammunition for the ballistae we were able to save, among other nasty things being made. I believe they took over some of the forges,” answered Kobu.
Tyler remembered the two dwarven leaders. For a change, they were not on the platform.
“Where’s Dvalin and Otr?” he asked.
“Still at the forges,” answered the jarl with a chuckle. “I sent somebody to fetch them, and the messenger got a choice earful. But the warrior was surprisingly thankful for the experience. He said he had memorized the best cuss phrases.”
Tyler smiled when he heard the reply. He was still trying to determine the number of the flying enemy. Then he remembered the scrying spell.
Dammit, he swore as he quickly released the spell toward the flyers. I should have thought of that earlier.
The result came back immediately.
“Kobu, fifteen skeletal drakes. But two are big. No, huge. Not as big as a draken, but nearly there.”
To the mage’s surprise, he saw Habrok turn to Tyndur, sniggering loudly.
“Well, Tyndur. Remember your wish for drakes to fight? We met them in the Barrens, and now, you get another chance. It’s a wish granted twice over!” joked the ranger.
Tyndur chortled as he looked towards the horizon.
Tyler noticed that jarl was beside him. Engrossed as he was in watching the progress of the approaching bony flock, the mage didn’t see the movement.
“It’s going to be a battle worthy of a saga or two,” remarked the ruler of Hedmark.
“We just need to make sure there’s somebody left to sing or recite them. Not to mention listeners to such sagas,” answered the mage.
“True,” chuckled the jarl.
I am beginning to like this jarl. Laughs in the face of the threat of total annihilation, overwhelming odds, and…
“That incident with the High King’s men. I believe that will have severe repercussions on your relationship with him,” he remarked, his previous train of thought giving rise to the question.
The Accidental Archmage - Book Five: Loki's Gambit Page 29
