The Accidental Archmage: Book Nine: The Dragon Houses

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  “Say your piece, Havard. It seemed important.”

  “The drakes? The wyrms?”

  “Ah. One of those dangerous questions. The pantheons had known about them, but even if some deities could adopt draconic forms, we avoid them. Too powerful and unpredictable. They don’t bother us and we don’t bother them. Still, the emergence of these magic-wielding drakes in such numbers is both puzzling and worrying. The two kinds have been fighting all across Adar, if the reports are true. So far, they’ve ignored deities and mortals in their war. Extremely foolish is the being who would poke his or her nose into such affairs,” came the answer, with the last part given in a warning tone. The deity cleared his throat loudly. “Time for you to return to your friends, Archmage. The presence of that Kemetian and the Romanii precluded manifesting on the mortal plane. I know they represent the interests of allied gods, but I have my reasons not to disclose my presence. As to Lumeri, I believe your companions’ patrons would know soon enough of the Scribe’s betrayal. I believe that answers your first question.”

  The mage got the feeling Odin didn’t want further questions or Tyler prying into more secrets. But the comment about draconic bodies reminded him of something. He just couldn’t pull it out of his memories. Yet the warning rankled. As if I’d willingly put my head inside giant serpent heads full of sharp fangs.

  “Where are we?” he asked instead, examining the great hall. Brightly illuminated, of gray stone with a high ceiling. A simple cuboid of smoothly shaped rock. Six sides with no visible doors. The only furniture was the small table and two chairs in the middle of the room.

  “Asgard. The Hall of the Slain, or Valhǫll. We’re under the throne room, the focal point of my power. Here, no god, unless of a might strong enough to cut this realm in twain, could eavesdrop, much less enter. Within the four corners of this room, my power is increased. Don’t worry about your companions missing your presence. No time on Adar has passed,” grinned the one-eyed old man.

  ***

  Tyler blinked and found himself back on Sigtuna plain, sitting on the grass. The abrupt transition was smoother than expected. The exile was in front of the mage with blade drawn, facing the expanse. The aggressive stance surprised the mage. Kobu had clearly felt something, even if no period had elapsed. He quickly stood.

  “Anything wrong, Kobu?” he asked the man, reasoning that an ember of Odin’s power must have alerted his bodyguard. If so, then the warrior was more magically attuned than he thought.

  “Intruder. Watching us.”

  The mage was about to reassure Kobu when a blanket of white mist swiftly surrounded Tyler. A considerable rush of power followed. Surprisingly, the latter came from the exile. The unexpected fog lasted for several seconds. Fading cries of alarm from his companions reached his ears. Then the surrounding screen dropped, revealing a snowy landscape.

  A helmless young man in white leather armor stood two spears’ length away. Kobu was also present; the katana gripped with both hands and raised high above the head. The tip of the sword pointed back and his left foot positioned forward.

  Definitely kendo, reckoned the mage upon seeing Kobu’s stance, though bewildered and intrigued with the exile’s presence. Whatever pulled him here didn’t include Kobu. The man came under his own magic. How the warrior managed it, Tyler had no idea.

  Still, Tyler could see he wasn’t the only one startled. The stunned look on the stranger’s face meant he didn’t expect the warrior. But the surprised expression vanished in a flash and was replaced by an amused smile.

  “Who the fuck are you?” yelled the young Archmage. His temper had gotten hold of him. Tyler knew it, but being abducted so soon after Odin’s compulsory invitation beat down his self-control. At least the deity was a familiar presence. The amusement reflected on the man’s face made it further incensed the mage. The involuntary sequestration by a stranger made a bad day worse.

  “My deepest apologies, Archmage. But I had to do what I did. This is but a friendly meeting, nothing more,” answered the youth in a placating manner, arms out.

  Kobu kept his focus on their abductor, still as a statue in the kendo stance.

  “And I asked who the hell are you?” repeated Tyler, voice now cold and measured. His grip on the staff tightened. The mage could feel the magical energy building up as he strengthened his shield and readied a spell.

  “I am Útgarða-Loki, now Ruler of Jotunheim. You may call me Skrymir.”

  ***

  Another. Fucking. Bastard.

  A fiery rage consumed Tyler. Sudden heat surged through his veins. His vision clouded momentarily as hatred poured into his being. A mass of energy rapidly formed around the young man. All he could think of tearing apart the figure before him. A destructive, murderous desire demanded release.

  A jumble of thoughts had filled his awareness, a cascade of disturbing images and deep-seated dread. He was exhausted, his mind and body weary from the tribulations of Banna. Fears rising from Lumeri’s madness. The awakened consuming darkness. The sudden appearance of the drakes and wyrms. The shock of the casual manner his double casually killed the host sent against them. Securing Ritona’s return. His wards. The draken egg. Odin’s presence and revelations. His frustration at being unable to return immediately to Eira. Sigtuna. The change in the very land itself. One weighty worry after another. And now, barely had he warmed the grass, this Skrymir had the gall to abduct him.

  Everything happened almost instantly. Yet Kobu was faster. As soon as magic erupted around the Archmage, the exile vanished, immediately appearing before Skrymir, a large version of his katana already on a downward arc. Kobu’s target disappeared, and the blade struck the snow-covered ground. As the tip sliced into the white surface, a long crack leading forward appeared. A blast followed, blowing the snow apart as the fissure continued for some distance. The young ruler reappeared in a small mound several yards to their right and again vanished as the exile’s sword cut through the position. Skrymir manifested farther back, directly in front of the mage.

  “Kobu. Hold!” shouted Tyler. The exile didn’t move from where he was, but his stance shifted back to what the mage witnessed at the beginning.

  Two giant hands of fire swiftly formed on both sides of his focus. As he was going to slam the blazing pair together, Skrymir yet again disappeared. He could see a trail of energy leading from the location to a position to the left. No, you don’t, the thought rose instinctively. Tyler felt his will extend through the ether and grab the magical wisp, throwing it back to where it originated. The fiery slabs crashed together and exploded. An immense tower of flame shot up, clawing its way toward the frigid sky. The detonation shook their surroundings and a loud report resounded through the air. Thick clouds of vapor and disturbed snow swiftly swirled around them.

  The violence and thunder of the blast thumped Tyler back to some lucidity. He noticed Kobu was going to move, the telltale sign of another teleport seen from the brightening glow of power around him.

  I could see that? the amazed observation crossed his mind.

  “Impressive. But I didn’t come here to fight,” a deep voice came from the stiffening mist. It now looked solid—a tall and broad wall of ice. Eddies of vapor were flowing to the construct.

  “Kobu! Back to me!” shouted Tyler, figuring there was no point in continuing to fight. He doubted they could take on Skyrmir conventionally. At least, the stranger mentioned he wasn’t interested in further fighting.

  The exile vanished and returned to the Archmage. Tyler noticed the exile’s left foot was a few inches behind the right, with the heel elevated. The katana had returned to its original size, but gripped with both hands, tip forward, and level with the shoulder. Part of the young mage’s mind was incensed at the wall, affronted by the magical spell. It wanted to blow it apart. But the release of energy and its noisy result had given calm to Tyler. The stranger’s survival of the massive application of force and fire added to the speed of sobriety.

  That wasn�
�t good. Lost my temper there. And this fellow shrugged it off. No Elder energy there, but I don’t think I even scratched him, the young mage reflected grimly. It was an unwarranted, mindless reaction. He was more dangerous now. A loss of control would mean potential casualties. Innocent deaths and injuries. Wanton destruction. Tyler already had more than his fill of such sights.

  The colossal wall ominously cracked in the middle, filling the clearing with the sound of breaking ice. Yet, no shower of frozen blocks followed. Then it vanished abruptly. In its stead stood a giant version of the warrior who greeted them. But where Tyler expected an angry face, a pensive one greeted him. The arms of the giant were on his hips, the head cocked to one side, and blue eyes examined him curiously.

  Skrymir

  The mage stood his ground and stared back. A flicker of fear ran down his spine. The entity shrugged off his attack as if it was but a falling snowflake on his armor. Tyler knew the energy released was truly massive because of being fueled by blind fury, and he couldn’t even see a scorched piece of armor. The giant gave a heavy sigh, the sound reminding the mage of a sudden gust of wind.

  “Humans,” uttered Skrymir. His exasperation was palpable. He stared at Tyler. “You’re done with the strutting?”

  Tyler nodded slowly. Ideas on how to attack and defend ran through his stunned senses. All redounded to the use of Elder power. An infuriated and uncontrolled spell didn’t work, and dealing with Skrymir left him with an empty arsenal. Unless he drew upon the other energies within him. A course of action he was loathe to take except in critical situations. Thankfully, the entity only seemed irritated.

  “I guess so. It’s been a long day. Being grabbed again wasn’t conducive to having a receptive mind,” said Tyler. It was the nearest he could offer as an apology. The fellow did kidnap him.

  “That’s a refreshing change.” The mortal mage could sense faint amusement in the answer.

  “It is?” voiced Tyler, wondering how an attack on his part could be seen as a refreshingchange.

  “The initial reaction could be excused, yet you desisted from attacking when I revealed what I am.”

  “Oh, that.”

  I’ve seen dragons, gods, titans, squids, even a demon lord—all kinds of weirdness. A giant – an ice giant, if I’m not mistaken – isn’t a surprise. Seems almost normal, in fact, he thought.

  Skrymir laughed.

  “My race doesn’t induce a positive response from your kind or those of Asgard and Vanaheimr.”

  “That would be racist or speciesist. I’d like to believe I am neither. This world is strange enough,” admitted the mage cautiously.

  “True. Most of my people have the same shortcoming—a misplaced belief in superiority mayhap, sheer arrogance, or not knowing any better. A crushed skull usually changes the attitude, but by then, it would be too late,” answered the transformed giant, continuing to laugh.

  The young mage was already beyond wary. The formidable entities of Adar could change demeanor and attitude instantly. All that power at their fingertips was bound to have an unpleasant effect on egos. Some might be mentally stable, but it would be best to assume unbridled arrogance or a foolish sense of superiority until he had proof otherwise. He couldn’t imagine that his attack wasn’t resented or didn’t spark an understandable urge to retaliate. The crushed skull comment didn’t help. His furious reaction was more than stupid; the thought came to him. Yet, his impulsive and aggressive move surprised Tyler. Typically, he was more than cautious, first gauging strength and intention before committing to action.

  “Again, I apologize. This day, as I said, wasn’t conducive to a calm state of mind,” repeated Tyler, mindful of the hidden strength of the giant. Anybody who could shrug off his massive attack deserved to be treated with respect and a healthy degree of fear.

  “Apology accepted, Archmage. I understand. Being grabbed by that senile one-eyed old man right after experiencing the tribulations of Banna does not contribute to an even temper.”

  Duckshit. How in Asag’s devious mind did he know?

  Chapter Ten

  Abomination

  “The Gate to Adar isn’t as well-guarded as that of Midgard. Recent events helped,” answered Skrymir.

  Tyler understood he meant the assault on Asgard. Still, it didn’t answer how the giant was able to circumvent the second barrier.

  “The barrier?” he blurted.

  “Our senses were there. We follow anything involving Odin and his kind. Their pursuits interest us,” came the reply.

  Our? We? Oh, right. The royal we. That bullshit. Even Odin had outgrown such moronic ideas. Royal. They shit and piss like the rest of us. One of the best scams around, the sarcastic thought rose in the mage’s mind.

  Skrymir caught his dismissive expression. The subsequent comment caught the mage unprepared. He expected the giant to remark on his reaction as a reference to the barrier, not to his thoughts about so-called royalty.

  “Tradition, Archmage. We don’t like being King, but Thrymr’s death forced our hand. The struggle among the remaining clans would have plunged Jotunheim into chaos. And watch your expressions. Your face is, as you fellows say, an open slate.”

  “Book. An open book, not a slate.”

  “Our apologies. The Thurssar, on the other hand, say an unsheathed sword,” chuckled Skrymir.

  “Who’s Thrymr? And Thurssar?”

  The visitor looked at him strangely. Tyler saw disbelief, outrage, and then amusement quickly flit through the young face. Though appearances are definitely deceiving in Skrymir’s instance. No way the ruler of the giants could be so youthful.

  “Thurssar. That would be our kind. The giants of Jotunheim. Part of the jotnar. You really don’t know?” asked the visitor with evident skepticism.

  Tyler nodded.

  “We don’t know whether to feel insulted or miserable that we’ve been forgotten,” sighed Skrymir.

  “Giants are still mentioned in cultures of the First World,” offered the mage sympathetically.

  “Tales for children. We get it. Now for Thrymr. The former ruler of this realm. Though the position is more of being somebody all the clans fear or could agree upon. The Asgardian god of mischief killed him when he refused to join that madman. That insane deity might be a jotunn, but no Thurssar trusts him. Even those of the flame and ice clans who joined the elemental Lords know better.”

  Loki again?

  So many questions, reflected Tyler uncomfortably.

  Yet rising anxiety about his wards and the dragon egg drowned his curiosity. The two emotions tugged him in opposite directions. Aside from wondering how the giant pierced the barriers surrounding Banna, he suspected Skrymir could provide him with answers on subtleties involving Skaney’s pantheon. Tyler knew giants didn’t get along with the residents of Asgard, or Ásgarðr, as called by the Norse. A voice from the other side of the fence would balance his perspective. Considering many of the ills plaguing the land arose from Loki’s evil or had the Norse god of mischief as a key pawn, he needed the giant’s observations and answers. Still, the warnings from Birki couldn’t be ignored. The guardian wasn’t one to be alarmed easily.

  “I’d like to accommodate you, Skrymir. I really would. But you caught me at a bad time,” said the young mage. At the same time, he asked Birki if they could hold on for a while.

  “Aye, Archmage. Your apprentices are calming it down. Talking to the enormous egg. Asking it to wait,” replied Birki. “But you better hurry. Nature can’t be delayed indefinitely. Cracks have become bigger.”

  “Apprentices?” he asked.

  “You can’t call them your wards now. They’re of fighting age. Time for them to learn more than I could teach them,” answered the guardian. “You could talk to that giant later. But I appreciate the contribution of his aura to the energy of the staff.”

  After that hurried inquiry, he glanced at the giant. If their visitor refused, Tyler doubted if he could do anything about it. Especially since the ruler
of Jotunheim wasn’t subtle about his power. It suffused the very air, raising the hair on the back of the mage’s neck. But Skrymir was surprisingly reasonable about the Archmage’s request. The giant even apologized for the unannounced visitation.

  “We took the opportunity. The emanations from unfortunate Sigtuna were enough to mask our arrival,” confessed the giant. “Call out our name when you’re ready. Útgarða-Loki. Don’t take too long. We don’t want your perceptions to be clouded by deceit or misunderstand. Hear us out first.”

  Perfect.

  “Your arrival? I thought you brought us somewhere,” he inquired. Tyler had the idea they were moved to another location. If Sigtuna Plain was covered by snow, he’d have noticed it.

  “Our proficiency. Illusions. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the tale? Logi, Hugi? The drinking horn? The cat? I’d have thought such a story would have survived in the First World. Though the ocean part of it is truly an idiotic notion. The Asgardian deity would immediately taste the salt,” exclaimed the disbelieving giant.

  Tyler shook his head, noticing that Skrymir was clearly upset. He forgot the we.

  “I am sorry,” professed the mage. He meant it. Being a forgotten legend must be a blow to the giant’s self-esteem.

  “Never mind. But get yourself acquainted with the tale. You’d get an idea of who I am,” replied the giant grouchily as he quickly vanished, but not without a parting warning. “A friendly note, Archmage. My illusion is sufficient to block perception of your surroundings. To your companions, you disappeared. It doesn’t mean time hasn’t passed. Circumstances in your campsite have changed.”

  ***

  Tyler’s surroundings slowly changed back to that of the plain. As the transition occurred, he noticed Kobu looking back at him.