The Accidental Archmage: Book Nine: The Dragon Houses

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  The massive strangers added to his already considerable anxiety. Based on what he saw, magic wielders among the incoming drakes were the largest of their kin. If size was proportional to power, then the new arrivals were extraordinary examples of their kind. They blazed brightly as miniature suns winging through the sky. Then his unique sight revealed golden aurae unblemished by any other color of the spectrum.

  The threatening swarm turned as one and flew toward the new arrivals. A jarring deluge of anger and hate erupted from the drakes. It flashed through the air, staggering the mage. He glanced at his companions and found he wasn’t the only one affected. Anybody who was magically sensitive felt the unbelievable animosity.

  “We better step back to the hollow. A battle like this wouldn’t be good for us,” blurted Cassius. Tyler nodded as relief flooded him. He wasn’t confident facing such a horde. Even if the company won – a doubtful result considering their current state – casualties were inevitable.

  The group speedily retreated. The unfolding clash in the sky would still be seen from the ditch. Still, they’d be able to escape any significant collateral danger or the direct effect of an errant spell. If such hazards could get past the reinforced shield Tyler erected around them. But as his mind dwelt on the possibility, certainty eluded him. He added more power to the barrier.

  The two clusters closed on each other and excitement darted through the anxious Archmage. A dragon battle! shouted his flustered mind. He was in another world where magic and fantasy ruled. Yet from Tyler’s encounters, all he could glean was that dragons were reticent entities, loathe to involve themselves in mortal affairs or even engage with Adar’s races. That meant they were fanged and clawed versions of powerful hermits. To see them in such numbers was a wonder by itself.

  The drakes paused in midair. The action astounded the mage. It was a beautifully synchronized move, as if the entire flying mass was of one mind. A flurry of sizeable crimson bolts immediately raced to the newcomers. The attacking cloud soundlessly smashed as one against a giant golden sphere that suddenly flashed into existence around their moving targets. The ensuing silent detonation released a wave of dominantly flaxen energy in all directions. Part of it felt familiar to Tyler, and an image of a woman in golden armor arose from his memories.

  “Gullen?” His mind finally recognized the magical aura. That must be her clan.

  “Recognized it, huh? Man, you really need to level up.” His twin commented.

  “You knew?”

  “Put it this way, brother, if you’re in high school, I’m in graduate school. Post-graduate, if you’re talking about my specialty, and I have more than passing familiarity with knowledge a certain Archmage should be absorbing.”

  “I’m flattered. You sound concerned.”

  “Listen, man. I wasn’t joking when I said your throat is my throat. Increasing your chance of survival also benefits me. I am not in a hurry to die. If you noticed, things have changed for the worse,” replied the double in a severe tone.

  Any reply by the Archmage was forgotten as a dazzling monster of a blaze caught his attention. As with the drakes’ attack, it was soundless, yet it boomed through the ether, reminding Tyler of rumbling thunder. A massive glow had erupted in front of Gullen’s group. A magical construct fed by five golden strands from the wyrms. It took but a fleeting second to form, but it was enough time for the drakes to spread out. The quickness of the reaction astounded him. The creatures must have also reinforced their barrier, reflected the mage. It was what he would have done, and the drakes were evidently experienced wielders of magic.

  The gigantic sphere burned with golden fire and raced toward the drakes. Tyler saw the serpentine figures had reformed into distinct groups, though they kept close to each other. His enhanced eyesight came into play. Red tendrils of energy tied each flock with one another and flowed outward in a concentrated, enormous scarlet cord ending in a hemispherical shield of the same color. He was impressed by the enchantment. It focused all energy to the front, providing a thicker wall.

  But as the colossal orb neared the defensive matrix, Tyler felt an absurdly powerful outpouring of power and the attacking spell instantly tripled in size. Emanations from the magical surge whipped the company, pushing some of its force through Tyler’s barrier. Even as he gritted his teeth against the onslaught, all he could think of was how his wards must be enjoying the magical overflow.

  Then his perception split into two as he took in the view of the magical airborne conflict. At the same time, Birki sent him images of an enormous black egg streaked with gold and red. The latter had visible cracks and was shaking on its stone pedestal. Tyler’s attention was torn between the incredible events happening at the same moment. All he could immediately think of was his streak of miserable luck.

  Welp, a bugger of a shitstorm, thought the mage, using one of Liam’s favorite expressions.

  “Birki! How long before it cracks?” he called out. No answer came, surprising the mage. Quick scrutiny revealed the guardian was slumped against the magical entrance. He didn’t look hurt, but Birki was practically glowing.

  Oh, fuck. The magical overflow! Didn’t expect it to be that overwhelming.

  He focused on the skyborne battle now progressing in earnest. The colossal globe smashed into the drakes’ barrier. Tyler could see the wall shatter like glass. The massive flaming ball promptly split into three equally sized spheres and rushed into equidistant positions inside the formation. Then they detonated. Instinctively, he closed his eyes and hoped his companions followed suit. Even so, the blaze left whirling colors on a not entirely black background.

  Eigengrau, the description came to mind. Color perceived in the absence of light. Worsened by the fucking magical flashes.

  When he opened his eyes, he saw drakes and parts of the creatures dropping from the sky. Most of the massive flocks had been decimated, but the large examples of the kind remained, and they were still numerous. Tyler figured the magic wielders had their own individual protection. That they were able to withstand the staggering attack spoke of their abilities. They might have been wounded, but they were still alive. And against an ancient dragon’s spell. A barrage of red bolts retaliated against their onrushing opponents.

  This time, a few of the flashes penetrated the wyrms’ defensive shield and hit the leading trio. The leader shrugged off the strikes, but the others visibly wobbled in the air. The mage was surprised. Either the second assault was more powerful, or most of the wyrms’ energy went into their spell, depleting their protection. Tyler opted for the latter. He also noticed that though the attack spells might have been incredibly strong, both groups needed time to cast the next one. In contrast, mortals could cast as fast as possible and were only limited by their magical reserves. Though he had to admit that even the mightiest human magic wouldn’t make a dent in the weakened barrier.

  The pair of injured wyrms withdrew to the rear and the other two flew forward. Gullen was one of the wounded. Their leader didn’t look back and continued flinging sizeable flaming globes of white fire. The speed of casting was incredible. Drakes were entirely consumed by the magical spheres. The spectacle shot Tyler’s theory to pieces. He couldn’t understand why. The swiftness might be attributable to the kind of spell, the wielder, or the fact that the great magical wall protecting the drakes was no more. Return fire was desultory and dissipated a few feet from the wyrms. The mage assumed the rest now merely played a supporting role to their leader’s offense.

  Watching the deadly magical exchange, Tyler was a bit disappointed. He was expecting a colossal clash of fangs and claws. A violent melee in the sky. A Hollywood monster movie. Then he realized the absurdity of his expectation. The wyrms and their opponents were massive reservoirs of magical power. Why fight in close quarters when one could toss destructive spells from a distance? Only an even magical fight would probably result in the former scenario or through some ritualistic challenge. Though he doubted if the drakes would be accorded an oppo
rtunity for one-on-one physical combat. From Tyler’s perspective, it was clearly war.

  The drakes suddenly broke. Tyler couldn’t blame them. They had already been reduced to a quarter of their original numbers, and those who survived were no match for the wyrms. The mage half-expected the survivors to commit a suicidal attack against their five enemies. An enormous crimson flash burst in front of the wyrms. It was an unexpected occurrence, and the mage was left blinking for a few seconds trying to get his sight back as a severe headache erupted.

  Shit. Those bastards, thought Tyler as he wiped involuntary tears away. Still, the thought that blinding spells were effective entered his mind. I’ve got to get a spell like that!

  When he recovered, the drakes were fleeing as fast as they could, pursued by three of the wyrms. Two of the great creatures were flying toward the company. One was Gullen, and as the pair near, he recognized the other. Grastein.

  The ancient dragon must have been suppressing his aura, he shuddered as dragon-fear started inroads into his mind.

  The pair disappeared and manifested in front of the mage in human form. The terror had lifted, leading Tyler to assume that Grastein had more control over his emanation when he was in human form. Gullen didn’t say anything, though she looked over the company and nodded at the ones she recognized. Her armor was scratched, and a significant dent could be seen in the chestplate. The mage tried to consider why the damage wasn’t repaired by her magic. Is draconic magic different from ordinary magic? he wondered. The dragon known as Old Greyskin, the Scourge of the North, didn’t pay heed to the rest of the company. His eyes were on the Archmage.

  “Hail, young mage! Or should I say, Archmage? You’ve come a long way!”

  “My thanks for the kind words, great one. I still have a long way to go,” replied Tyler, slightly bowing. Some fear still leaked from the form before him, but it was manageable – from staggering dread to mild apprehension.

  “Great one, ha! But you’ll get there, I have no doubt. What are you doing here?” asked the mighty being. The intense stare once again felt like Grastein was looking at the depths of Tyler’s mind.

  “Just got back from an… expedition,” he answered, unwilling to reveal the journey to Banna. The pantheons prohibited it, and he didn’t know what the ancient race thought of the place.

  “You smell of the Forbidden Isle,” mused Grastein. “Whatever. You have your reasons for such a dangerous trip.”

  “You’ve been there?” inquired Tyler, curiosity getting the better of him. The reaction felt so casual.

  “Now and then. We can’t have our domains there. Yet, we are concerned that a rogue tribe might have established a presence, so we try to check once in a while. But the place is vast and they have made an art out of hiding,” explained the dragon.

  “I gather the ones you fought were rogues. Nobody among us had seen their kind before.” It was more of a statement than a question.

  “I am not surprised. They conceal themselves well and are stronger now. Not an encouraging omen,” offered the other.

  Tyler considered the answer. Gullen had mentioned an event called The Rising. If it was happening, then he needed confirmation. Remembering how his path had progressed, it was going to entangle him later. He’d bet Habrok’s bow on it. But the mage didn’t know how the ancient dragon would take the information that he knew about it.

  The hell with it. Hal said I needed to ask questions. I’m done with beating around the bush.

  “Does their emergence mean The Rising is upon us?” he asked Grastein.

  To his immense relief, all he got from the revelation was a wry smile and a glance at a stone-faced Gullen. Grastein looked at him and sighed.

  “We are not certain, though the rogue tribes have indeed risen and become more powerful, as I mentioned. Personally, I’d have to see the signs of a great chieftain among them. One to lead all. No sign of such a grave event had been discovered.”

  “What exactly is The Rising?” asked Tyler, made bolder by the reaction.

  “A prophecy of old –

  Angered wings, a tempest of claws

  A black cloud rising, amidst a dark wind;

  A world is rent asunder, the Ancient Race awakens,

  A Great War, a blinding Fate, reality changed.”

  “Yet prophecies are treacherous things. As dangerous as an unstable spell. They mislead and lead people to complacency or terrible acts. Many are self-fulfilling. A horrible jest of fate or a bored god,” continued the ancient wyrm, shaking his head. “Your seer knows that simple truth. But I have to admit the strange malaise in the ether doesn’t bode well.”

  Chapter Eight

  Changes

  The pair of dragons left hastily, majestic flying leviathans rushing after their kin. In their wake was an Archmage pondering the revelation and the casual manner by which it was given. Ancient wyrms were notorious for keeping secrets. That quality was legendary if one were to go with the many stories. Yet, such a monumental prophecy, vague as it was, was given out like yesterday’s news. Grastein wasn’t even that disturbed about the change in the ether. It was clear that the formidable being didn’t know what caused it. The circumstances were enough to make Tyler extremely worried. The Scourge of the North acted as if it was the end of the world, and nothing mattered anymore.

  Are the rogue tribes that powerful? Does Grastein think the Dragon Houses can’t stop what they believe is coming? he mused with understandable concern. It wasn’t fear yet, but apprehension started twisting his gut. He didn’t even comment on the change in my aura.

  “I feel your worries, brother. Don’t burden yourself with such things. We can make matters right,” came a painfully familiar voice.

  The unexpected reassurance increased his anxiety, and the use of we further confounded the young mage.

  “We, Tom?”

  “Who’s Tom?”

  “You. I had to give you a name. It’s confusing referring to you as Tyler.”

  “You’re cruel, brother. Tom, the Harbinger of Destruction, wouldn’t sound right. Tom the Doombringer. World Emperor Tom. Nothing works with that name. It lacks the necessary panache for what I am.” Tyler could hear the disgust in his twin’s tone.

  “Live with it. At least it starts with T. I could come up with worse names. Now, how about that we?”

  “Screw you, Ringmaster.” The retort took him aback until Tyler realized the other was referring to the rings adorning his hands. He had thought it was a reference to that movie.

  “Hey, it’s easy to remember and begins with the first letter of my name. Don’t make me come up with a fantasy handle full of consonants. Nobody would be able to pronounce it. Anyway, it’s not as if the entire world knows that I call you Tom,” placated the mage.

  “Granted. I’ll come up with an appropriate name when the time comes. I’ve been thinking about this shitload of a mess. If I decide to scour Adar – except Maljen, of course – I’ll need you to create a new world. I assume Creation would have been mastered by then. But chances are, it would be an imperfect planet again. We’d give it time and then repeat the process until we get it right. Destroy, create, repeat. We’ll get it right, eventually.”

  It was an incredibly appalling statement and shocked Tyler to the core. His twin’s nonchalance and the callous proposal both confounded him. What made it worse was the certainty that his twin could perfectly do what he said, and the longer he lingered in the mage’s mind, the more Tom learned from the stored Elder lore. The mage took moments to recover, and all he could think about was the madcap plan of a certifiably insane Norse deity. Tom’s idea was similar yet infinitely more ambitious and destructive. Freaking worse than Loki.

  “Why the hell would you even consider such a thing?” he demanded of his double. Tyler was outraged but had to restrain himself. Tom was nitroglycerin. Not even the industrial version known as dynamite. A volatile mixture apt to blow everyone to bits if disrupted sufficiently.

  “Everybody’s g
ot to have a life goal. This world seems imperfect. Screwed up. It needs order. Here’s an incentive. Once we reach that point, I promise to return to your consciousness and dissolve my awareness. Suicide, essentially. But for a purpose.”

  “Well, fuck me sideways. I’ve got a demented twin. A freaking force of nature, and now he wants a purpose,” commented Tyler sarcastically.

  “Your fault, my esteemed and all-powerful Master,” countered Tom somberly. “You fucked up your progress and gave me awareness. What’s existence without a purpose? What I said serves my nature, and admit it, you desire order for this world.”

  He’s serious, the horrifying realization came to his mind.

  Tyler couldn’t answer. He couldn’t even be vulgar or sarcastic about it. The idea was an abhorrent monstrosity. Yet for all their atrocious inanity, the mage admitted his twin’s statements were logical in their own way, even if the ambition went beyond being merely genocidal. It was his fault. He willingly accepted the burden with all its consequences. The present situation was one. Confusing, yes. Horrifying, doubly so. But nobody forced him into being an Archmage. At least Tom wasn’t being a bitch about it. Sarcasm wasn’t equal to a wave of full-blown raging anger.

  “I’ll leave you to it then. While you’re… ‘ruminating’ about my suggestion, I’ll dig into this outrageous pile of knowledge in your mind. Specifically, the parts which I could access and try to provide guidance for your progress. The task would be easier if you would free your guides.”

  “No. Hal and X should remain where they are. For now,” replied Tyler tersely. The idea of his guides being ensnared by his twin was unacceptable. He wouldn’t put it past Tom to attempt it.

  “Your choice,” answered the double. Tyler felt the withdrawal of the entity from his awareness, but he heard a faint Tom? Pah! Of all the…! in the background. The reaction made him smile, though the realization that the reaction was exactly what he would have said was sobering.