“Thank you, sire. But I could see the pressure beginning to tell on the men.”
Tyler nodded. Darkness now worked against them, though illumination spells were now flooding the ground beyond the walls in a haphazard fashion. If not for his warning, the warriors would have defended every section of the wall, stretching the defensive line. As he watched, several of the carts with knives were being wheeled into position near the sections to be contested.
A final reserve if the line breaks, observed Tyler. I hope it doesn’t reach that point. Where the hell is that Bjarte? He gazed at the surging undead tide continuing to come in, wondering where the leader was.
The mage was already considering asking Otr to give it a try. The dwarf appeared to be saltier than Tyndur. He focused on the still lit mangonel gauntlet area and released a series of cloud spells. Tyler avoided casting spells near the walls; the fighting was already hand-to-hand, and the mage wanted to avoid friendly casualties. They were already vastly outnumbered as it was.
Suddenly, Habrok’s arrows flew by in quick succession, together with Tyndur’s thrown maul. From the corner of an eye, he saw the einherjar quickly pull out his flaming battleaxe and jump toward him. Kobu vanished, his weapon shifting to its kanabo form. Everything happened in an instant yet was a slow-moving eternity for the mage.
As he moved his head to glimpse at what they were attacking, Tyler belatedly noticed a huge shadow had fallen on him, given form by the magical illumination in the distance and the skies around the fortress. A giant skeleton, covered with bony plates in places, loomed in the darkness, its long, elongated shape culminating in a now agape cluster of serrated fangs serving as its head. On top of the abominable horned excuse for a head was a standing figure, holding a massive ancient sword and a large tattered banner.
“WILAN!” the undead warrior thundered, his unnatural voice loudly echoing throughout the immediate area and cutting through the sound of battle.
Tyler felt hands clutched around his waist, and his surroundings disappeared, replaced by a gray atmosphere. Just as suddenly, reality came flooding back in and he found himself beside the startled jarl. The mage realized it was Kobu who rescued him. The exile again vanished.
The mage turned to the jarl.
“Go! This is a battle of magic and magical weapons!”
“How about you? I can’t just run away from that corrupted thing!” exclaimed the jarl. The mage could see his companions trying to fight the monster and its handler. Tyler knew it was Bjarte, though he couldn't explain how the undead warlord approached without being seen.
“Go, jarl! Even I can’t guarantee a victory against that abomination!” Tyler meant what he said. His mage eyes could see that a green nimbus of power surrounded Bjarte. Kobu had materialized on top of the monstrous steed and was in combat with the warlord. The banner was planted somewhere among the horns of the creature.
Finally heeding the mage’s words, the jarl immediately left, covered by his immediate retainers.
“Little Geir! Don’t die yet! I have plans for you!” came a shout from Bjarte. He evidently saw the jarl moving to leave the parapet. The jarl glanced back at Tyler for a moment.
“I hated that nickname!”
Tyler turned his attention back to the ongoing battle. Bjarte’s sword was clearly magical too. The mage could see the angry sparks as it met Kobu’s weapon. The movements of the two warriors were supernaturally fast, leaving the duo surrounded by a cloud of green and gold flickers of magical energy. Tyndur and Habrok were concentrating on the giant skeletal worm.
They can’t win this on their own, thought the mage as several small beams from his guides lashed out at the creature. To his shocked bewilderment, the energy streaks hit an unexpected invisible wall surrounding the gruesome beast, the only visible indication of the barrier’s existence being the ripples where the rays struck.
The bony giant glanced at him and swiftly darted in the mage’s direction, its mouth terrifyingly agape, thin rivulets of a dark green mist streaming from the fangs.
Tyler froze. The reality of a deadly collection of large, jagged fangs lunging at him had stunned his senses into immobility.
What’s that freaking thing? was the all-consuming thought occupying his mind.
A blazing wide shaft of light met the frontal bone of the approaching monster. It broke through whatever energy shield protected the creature and cracked the skull like a fragile porcelain vase. The rest of its body rapidly disintegrated into numerous pieces, clinking on the stone floor of the parapet. Bjarte adroitly somersaulted off the disintegrating creature, and Kobu again vanished. As the exile reemerged on the bastion’s floor near his foe, the pair resumed their battle, again furiously exchanging blows. Though the dead lord now appeared to have two distinct disadvantages – Tyndur and Habrok. But a few shafts from Habrok revealed the undead warrior was also protected by a similar energy shield.
“Guys! He’s as close as he’ll ever be! The spell?” Tyler called out to his guides.
“X is already on it. We had to use a portion against that mutated Minhocao. But on the bright side, the unconventional energy you produced appeared to be effective against the kind of power fueling the animating spell.”
“Hal. Do it quickly. That Bjarte is dangerous! With a supersized magical sword! He’s holding off Tyndur and Kobu. The bastard is bound to eventually get a lucky hit against those two!”
“X is calculating the minimum needed energy against the dimensional shield and the encapsulating spell. We need to reserve the most we can retain against the ancient conjuration. And that’s not the dead lord’s natural ability and skills. They have been greatly enhanced by the animating energy. His personal shield is but an example. But I believe the ancient sword he uses had increased his martial abilities at least tenfold.”
“Done!” Tyler heard X exclaim. There was a tone so human in its utterance, the mage was fleetingly distracted.
“What do you mean done?” he asked, half hopeful that his guides had finished the undertaking. It was a given that X and Hal would have to do the tricky and challenging task of making sense of the magical labyrinth awaiting them. A sharp, detailed image of the main conjuration rose in his mind.
Like the delicate structure of a snowflake... Though it’s a sickly hue of green, concluded the mage. So marvelously intricate, aesthetically beautiful, and deadly. To navigate his own way through such a maze was crazy.
Tyler looked at his companions. The ranger was running out of arrows. Only his magical shafts were making an impression, though Bjarte evaded them or sliced them in the air.
He must be making sure anything magical is not of the same sort that killed his pet, thought the mage. Only Kobu’s weapon was getting through Bjarte’s shield, only to be blocked by the warlord’s sword; it was an observation which puzzled Tyler and made him wonder where the exile's weapon came from.
But Tyndur’s fiery strikes, though magical, were not penetrating the shield, but they were savagely struck with such force that unless evaded or blocked, the inevitable feedback staggered the dead lord. But the mage was exceedingly worried. Only a minute or so had passed and the lone Bjarte had managed to maneuver the trio into a corner, with Habrok at the back. With Kobu’s weapon the only effective counter to the sword, the mage knew the exile wouldn’t dare teleport and instead attack from the rear. If he did that, the mage knew it would be over for Tyndur and Habrok in a few seconds.
The back… the thought momentarily lingered.
Without hesitation, Tyler converted the staff to its spear form, and with a final warning to Birki, threw the weapon at the back of the revenant. The blade penetrated the shield, and at first it flew with incredible speed but was abruptly beset with noticeable slowness when it encountered Bjarte’s barrier. Then it was through the obstruction and pierced the dead lord’s body, half of the staff now protruding from the torso. The revenant immediately jumped back and stood on a crenellation. He looked at Tyler, green eyes now blazing with
fury.
“I forgot you. But your minions did keep me busy. It appears I have to get rid of you first,” the dark being said in the low, chilling, sepulchral tone they all had heard before.
Kobu immediately appeared in front of Tyler, the kanabo now in daisho form, a two-sword combination.
“He’s good,” the mage tersely commented.
“It’s just that accursed sword. Remove that, and he won’t last two seconds with me,” replied the man with obvious disdain. “I hate fighting against objects.”
The exile adopted a strange stance with the two swords, the dual blades held out in front at shoulder level, while Bjarte lightly jumped off the stone cover. He didn’t even deign to remove the spear staff absurdly sticking out of him. Tyndur slowly moved closer and approached from the back. Habrok had gotten tired of using his bow and had drawn his longsword. The ranger approached from the side.
Nobody had gotten in a cut or blow yet, except for Tyler, and the mage suspected it was only the nature and energies of the staff making it possible. Bjarte raised the great sword, marked with nicks and rust, in a two-handed grip.
“Impressive sport though. I had thought one of you would have fallen by now,” said the dead lord with a trace of sarcasm.
“You’re nothing without your stinking magic, braggart. I could smell the foulness of your aroma from here. Smells like the cowardly dung of a donkey’s fodder twice eaten and twice shat into a pigsty,” said Tyndur.
At Tyndur’s statement, Bjarte stopped his advance on Kobu and Tyler. He carefully looked at Tyndur. The mage could see the nimbus surrounding the dead lord roil and churn busily, and then finally twisted around the figure, its speed picking up as it continued its circuit.
“You.” Bjarte’s voice was cold. “I swore I would feed your balls to you while you watched.”
Fuck. This is not going to end well!
“Is it nearly done? We’re going to have our eggs scrambled out here! inwardly screamed the mage as he let loose the strongest lightning bolt he could manage at Bjarte’s head. All it did was leave a black mark on the intangible barrier, a large blemish that disappeared after a few seconds. Bjarte was slightly rocked by the furious attack.
He glanced at Tyler.
“Wait your turn.”
“Come on, tiny balls! You spineless excuse for an offspring of an ugly jotunn and an undersized dokkalfr. You want some of this?” shouted Tyndur. “Come and get some! Buttery balls!”
Even the mage was astonished by the einherjar’s language, until he realized Tyndur was giving him more time and Kobu a chance to attack. As Bjarte walked toward Tyndur, he abruptly stopped and gave a soundless scream toward the heavens. A bright light erupted from inside his body, burning away his form and the ghastly nimbus encircling him. Then he was gone, though a small pile of ash remained on the stone floor with the mage’s staff on top. A stiff night breeze suddenly blew through the parapet, scattering the dead lord’s residue to the wind.
Tyler immediately stood up and stared at the moons and stars of Adar. The hazy mist shrouding the clear night sky was gone, as if done away with at the flick of a finger. The deafening roar resounding from the ramparts told him the siege was over. In the distance, he saw a bright speck of light fly toward the heavens.
Flashy bastard, thought the mage.
The companions rushed to the crenellations. But Kobu made a point of stopping where Bjarte spectacularly dissolved. He glanced at the watching mage.
“Making sure that cursed sword is also gone. Such things are not for mortal men. I could sense the corruption within it,” the exile explained with a wry grin.
Tyler stood where he was, trying to calm himself down. He couldn’t believe what a near thing the entire episode was. A few more seconds and a second dead companion would have been on his conscience. After a quick healing spell on himself, the mage walked to where Bjarte had fallen and retrieved his staff. The companions were busy watching the joyful reaction of the defenders.
“Thanks, guys,” he told his guides when he returned to the open archway leading down the parapet. The thunderous victory shouts were still continuing. He sat on a stair, his back to the wall. The mage could feel his adrenaline going down.
“You’re welcome, sire. But lest you forget, our existence also depends on your survival,” Hal laconically reminded him.
“That too,” laughed Tyler. “But even so, my gratitude and appreciation for a job well done.”
“We did notice a welcome side effect of your energy. Thankfully it was enough, though because of the limited quantity, it took some time to destroy the core of the target spell. It was, as suspected, a remarkably complex matrix,” said X.
“Side effect?” reacted the mage quickly but then relaxed. My nerves are tightly wound as a freaking fisherman’s knot. X did say a welcome effect.
“The Elder energy produced was bonded to the natural magic of this world. As it dissolved the ancient spell, the result of our experiment also rapidly returned to the ether, spreading the dissolution effect. Elder energy takes a lot more time to decay and return to its original state. Sometimes, it just vanishes. You’ll find the undead plague gone throughout the realms or will be gone in a day or two. But in this area, we doubt if a ghoul could be found for miles around,” Hal explained at length.
“That’s good! At least we don’t need to go around shutting off animating spells. Not to mention undergoing that harrowing and debilitating process over and over again.”
Tyler’s discussion with his guides was interrupted by the clatter of armor rushing up the stairwell. He stood up. It was the jarl and the two dwarves. The bodyguards stayed several feet behind, though the mage could see them.
Seeing him, the young jarl threw out his hands and embraced him.
“My thanks, High Mage! Thank you!” It was all the jarl could say.
Tyler moved back to the parapet to give the others room. As soon as the two dwarves stood on the platform, they went to him and simultaneously slapped him on the shoulders, one from each dwarf. It was a painful experience. His muscles were still sore. But the mage forced a grin.
“Good job, High Mage! I knew you could handle it!” cried out Dvalin.
“Of course, he could handle it! That’s what High Mages do! What they’re for! Unless, of course, they die in the attempt! Remember the tale of the last dwarven High Mage, Old Afrigg? Now that’s bravery!” added Otr whose vote of confidence confused the mage.
“Yes. An old mage senile enough to try to drive a huge colony of drakes from their roost. Only, he didn’t count on the two wyrms living nearby. It’s all in the story, Otr,” commented Dvalin drily.
“I appreciate the thanks, but there’s a lot of dead bodies out there. They all need to be buried before sickness takes hold of the fortress and the lands around it. They were once warriors who served Hedmark and their kingdoms faithfully. I guess now’s the time to give them the death rites they deserve,” Tyler suggested.
The idea of hills of rotting and desiccated dead bones and skeletons stretching for miles was a horrible exercise in imagination, as he was finding out.
“You’re right, though it also presents Hedmark the opportunity to record and close the book on many lost expeditions and armies. As onerous as the job might be, it must be done. Hedmark has to honor the names of its dead,” replied the jarl.
“I leave matters to your hands, jarl. I believe I need to rest. But the plague has been broken, not only in Hedmark, but also in Skaney. It appears the corruption that seized control of your brother’s body was connected to the blight as a whole.”
“That’s wonderful news, High Mage!” exclaimed the jarl. “Men… and dwarves can again walk their lands without fear!”
“Our losses, jarl?”
“Not that heavy, but not light either. We lost a lot of defenders when the attackers changed tack and turned to grabbing men and dwarves off the wall. We lost a lot when that started. Fewer than 2,000 dead, all told, men and dwarves. I still d
on’t have the figures for the wounded, but was informed our healers were overwhelmed. I pray the All-Father grants us his grace and no men or dwarves die from wounds suffered.”
Tyler nodded and started walking down the stairs, the companions following him. He didn’t hear the numerous thanks and other expressions of gratitude. All he could think about was the casualty figure. 2,000 dead, out of a force of around 14,000 to 15,000 defenders. And that’s just in the first wave of the assault. If that was not heavy for the jarl, he must have expected a higher cost.
We wouldn’t have survived a second wave, he concluded. Chances were, at the moment of my death, the dark whirlwind would have been set free. And that would make Ragnarok look like child’s play. I don’t even know if it would dissipate after destroying everything, considering it gains strength the more destruction it causes, and I guess, the higher its exposure to active magic.
The party plodded its tired way back to the keep. The companions did acknowledge the gratitude showered upon them with a raised hand or a brief smile.
Only Tyler remained quiet. He was tired, but with the immediate danger over, other concerns previously shelved at the back of his mind started to creep back. He was desperately trying to keep the thoughts back, at least for the night. But it was like plugging a leaking hole with a sieve.
***
Tyler finally reached his room, followed by his ever-present shadow, the exile Kobu. His concerns were now each demanding attention, and the mage’s head felt like it was being buzzed by an entire beehive. Even his worry about the effect of Bjarte’s sinister energy on the staff was a matter his exhausted mind didn’t want to think about yet.
Mechanically, he removed his armor, took a quick wash, changed into fresh clothes and went to the waiting bed, only to halt at his bedside. A small box waited, with a small white stone on top.
Another surprise, the mage wearily thought as he cast a scrying spell on the item. What is it now?
The examination revealed nothing dark or dangerous. The aura of the objects even felt refreshingly clean. He took hold of the stone.
The Accidental Archmage - Book Five: Loki's Gambit Page 33
