The Accidental Archmage: Book Nine: The Dragon Houses

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  “A masterful illusion, sire. It takes incredible skill and power to create what we saw, and I doubt if that’s the extent of his abilities,” offered the exile.

  “I agree. Keep alert. I hate warnings like that – vague and confusing. But it seems to be a trait of these beings. It wouldn’t kill him to provide a few details,” said Tyler, watching the Sigtuna night return. “But for the life of me, I can’t understand why deities here expect me to know their backgrounds. Not my field.”

  The metallic smell of blood preceded the view of dead bodies around the pair. Next came the distinct odor of agitated magic. It was similar to ozone yet tinged with a smoky aroma. He noticed Kobu remained in a passive stance that the mage thankfully took as a sign that there wasn’t any immediate danger. The campsite of his companions was still where he last saw it, though there appeared to be more figures seated around it. Another group, comprising around twenty, was sitting some distance away around another fire.

  “Sire?” A familiar voice came from the left.

  Habrok.

  “Sorry about that, Habrok. A very insistent guest,” Tyler replied immediately. Leave it to Habrok to wait where he last saw us.

  “Seems to be the norm nowadays, sire,” the ranger chuckled. “We had guests. One kind of the friendly persuasion and the other patently murderous.”

  “It looks like it,” observed Tyler grimly, his eyes taking in the bodies around them. It was a mixed group of robed and armored humans. He saw some figures gathering the dead. Whatever happened, it wasn’t long ago. The mage guessed around ten to twenty minutes had passed since the battle ended. But with the abilities of his companions, he doubted if any mortal band posed any serious danger.

  Habrok saw what the Archmage was observing.

  “High Mages, battlemages, and veteran warriors. A mixed group from the lands around us. Though I believe I saw one who suspiciously looked like an Inka,” said the ranger.

  “Why?” blurted Tyler. Now that he could take in the scene, there were a lot of bodies. Easily a hundred attackers.

  “I believe our friends could better explain that matter. But from what I could understand, some deranged individuals consider the Archmage an abomination. Some use the term Cursed, but same sentiment.”

  Tyler was dumbfounded. He could count the number of his visits to major settlements on one hand, and the majority were for towns under siege. Most of the time, he was on the move. The mage also had the understanding that knowledge about his existence was limited to deities and similar beings. Apparently, he was wrong.

  “Our guests?” he asked the ranger as they walked toward the campsite.

  “You know them, sire. Friends, even,” said Habrok. “The Gothi of Maljen and that assassin from Hellas.”

  ***

  As he walked to his companions, they all rose and faced him. In the background, Tyler saw more prone figures, leading all the way to a spot to the left of the ruined town and some distance away from the edge of the disturbing miasma covering the settlement. Se-Osiris might have eliminated the Old One, but it appeared its handiwork was slow to disperse. Yet the appearance of the recent attackers was puzzling. It was the first time he heard of mortals hunting him because of his status. It could be the strange malaise in the ether, he mused, though the mage wondered how it could have turned them against him.

  A pair of figures had stepped out of the main campfire and were waiting for him. Standing with a blazing fire to the rear, it was difficult to see their faces. But from the facial features complemented by the light and tight armor one wore, Tyler concluded the man was Eleos, otherwise known as Machaíri, The Knife. A son of the deity Dionysius and now the minor god of assassins in the pantheon of Hellas.

  The man beside the assassin was an earlier visitor, Andreas Hahn, the Gothi of Maljen, and one sworn to Odin. Surprised as he was that the priest would leave the safety and comfort of his temple complex, the bulk form made clear the man was armored beneath his robe. The Swede was loaded for bear, as the saying went. The mage could sense the magical aura of the runes on his armor.

  Andreas wasn’t leaving anything to chance, reflected Tyler wryly. Then he reconsidered – the Gothi’s patron wasn’t leaving anything to chance. The last time he’d met the man, the Gothi was making plans for his academy of mages. The priest even determined the site of the place – right in view of the island gifted to Tyler.

  “Greetings, my friends. Nice night to be out and about, I see,” greeted Tyler as he held each man tight. They were his friends, and he was aware of how few he had. Considering how chaotic and conflict-ridden Adar was, it was likely every time he met any of them would be the last.

  Eleos laughed.

  “I don’t know about the priest, but being this far from my hunting grounds is, as you might have guessed, another mission from my current mistress,” said the assassin with a playful bow.

  “Mistress? Ah, Athe…” started Tyler, only to stop when Eleos raised a finger.

  “The goddess of wisdom,” he continued with an apologetic smile.

  “And you? Strange to see you out here,” commented Tyler as he turned to the Gothi.

  “Orders. Somebody had to watch your… back,” smiled Andreas.

  Tyler chortled. He knew what the priest was going to say. Unfortunately, it might be construed as something totally different. It might be viewed literally.

  “I thought you’d be busy with your project,” replied the young mage.

  “I was. Then the madness became contagious and got out of hand,” answered the Gothi cryptically, glancing at Eleos.

  The assassin of Hellas straightened up and gave the Archmage an ironic smile.

  “People are out to get you,” he said simply.

  “I get that – assassins and whatnot. I pissed off a lot of deities and their followers. Powerful beings too. Beat off a few attempts. I am not surprised. But it appears there’s a difference. Habrok told me something about being called The Cursed, Abomination. Really? I am a visitor, but did it have to get to be that xenophobic? I thought accidental tourists from the First World were not that rare. For one, the former god of war of Hellas used one – now dead – as his champion,” replied the mystified Tyler.

  “Something changed that in your instance. In the beginning, the norm was envy or a few High Mages and battlemages desiring to test themselves against you. Then came the disciples and acolytes of the deities who wanted you dead. It wasn’t a problem before because it was disorganized, and you moved swiftly. No mortal knew where you’d appear next. Even gods found it challenging to learn your whereabouts. It helped that friendly pantheons and beings put out such small fires when they could,” explained Eleos.

  “I guess something changed,” mused the young mage.

  Being a visitor didn’t help, the thought followed. But Tyler knew the underlying cause of such animosity was the common denominator across worlds and cultures. Fear. It was the only working assumption he could work out. Fear of the unknown. It’s Salem all over again. Or considering the numbers – the Spanish Inquisition?

  The four joined the companions. Meat was being cooked on two spits, reinforcing his assumption that not long had passed since the battle. From the looks of the others, Tyler saw they knew about what Eleos and the Gothi had told him. Astrid looked furious, the seer was stoic, and Se-Osiris was staring at the fire, his mind clearly on distant memories. Yet among them, the Romanii mage had a knowing, sympathetic look in his eyes.

  “Deadly admirers?” smirked Se-Osiris, turning to him.

  “You could say that,” answered Tyler as he sat down the already seated company. Ceremony wasn’t a consideration in the group, though the assassin looked surprised. Both newcomers followed and placed themselves on either side of the Archmage.

  The young mage idly noticed that the hooded and cloaked assassins he saw back in Akrotiri were present, sitting at the other fire, together with a scattering of Norse mages and warriors. Farther afield, a few figures were walking among the
dead. Sudden fires told him they were on body disposal detail. He guessed the newcomers were at around thirty to forty, a substantial number.

  “Saw some attackers were from Kemet. Followers of the enemy of Osiris and some hostile deities,” added Se-Osiris. “Strange.”

  “I apologize for not being around. The ruler of Jotunheim wanted to talk to me whether or not I had time,” he explained.

  Nobody had asked about his whereabouts. Tyler appreciated their confidence and trust. Yet he also considered that it could also mean a resigned belief that if anybody could take the Archmage, then the rest wouldn’t be able to put up a fight. He valued their confidence in his abilities – even if the mage doubted his own skills – but the attitude disturbed him. Tyler preferred his companions to be self-reliant.

  “King Thrymr is mighty among the jotnar,” observed Astrid.

  “Was mighty. He’s dead. The god of mischief killed him. Skrymir now rules the giants,” clarified Tyler.

  “A far more powerful ruler then. I heard he kept to himself in the past. Away from kin or visitors. A dedicated student of magic and an undisputed master of illusions,” observed the Valkyrie. “I can’t tell if such a change is good or bad. He eclipses a lot of the Vanir and Asgardians in raw power. In knowledge, we could say only the Allfather is his better.”

  “He didn’t attack us, so that’s a count in his favor,” Thyma ventured tentatively.

  “He said we’d be talking another time, so that’s a concern for the future. We have a more pressing matter – these new enemies,” said Tyler, shifting the conversation to the present.

  It was Eleos who gave more explanations, picking up his earlier discussion with the Archmage. Tyler assumed he had given a partial account to the companions. According to the minor deity, it started with unaffiliated mages, even some priests of the other gods. But it was a disorganized effort, more of being personal quests by those involved. These were easily stymied by the pantheons of the three major realms in this part of Adar – Skaney, Hellas, and Kemet. Then it abruptly escalated. Investigations by Eleos and other loyal gods revealed an intricate web of relationships guided by a shadowy, elusive yet powerful figure.

  “There’s a difference in circumstances, Archmage,” offered Se-Osiris. “There’s war in the land. You have been identified as an ally of some pantheons. A valuable one. They’d definitely mark you for death. But I daresay not all were driven by the dictates of conflict. The demon of greed and arrogance might still possess some. I had my share of such situations.”

  “So did I,” added Cassius. “But I made it a practice to eliminate such pests before they could ambush or challenge me. I consider such conceit to be a waste of time. Actual power is much more than being the best.”

  “Don’t their patrons control them?” asked Tyler, considering the Romanii’s statement. The conclusion was correct, but he suspected Cassius might have been more proactive in practice. His ambition and desire for revenge consumed the man, yet his wisdom wasn’t commensurate to the power he now possessed.

  “Belief and thought are not the same. The gods cannot hear the innermost thoughts of their worshippers. Only actions reveal what makes up the actual nature of their followers. That’s why mortals have the gift of choice. The gift includes individual interpretation. A priest might serve one of the Vanir, but he could also believe you pose a threat to his tenets. Action might be taken against you even without the knowledge of his or her patron,” explained Se-Osiris.

  Tyler’s mind went back to the dokkalfr. Great House Anari. The haughtiness. The fanatical belief that only they may interpret the teachings and instructions of their goddess. They’d probably try to attack Freya if she appeared before them if what came out of her mouth was contrary to their interests. Or knowingly twist her words to suit themselves.

  No different from humans, he reflected—greed perverting religion. And people being stupid or blind to accept the reality before them.

  He sighed and asked how the attackers knew where the company was going to return. They left Sigtuna immediately after the battle. The magical trail they left would be Thaut’s, a major deity.

  “Agents in place,” Eleos clarified. “Nobody knew you were going to Sigtuna before the battle. Your movements were erratic, and Tartarus is also a realm on a different plane. But their minions were here to observe the war. Information about your participation would quickly lead to instructions to follow you. The magical knowledge to move you to Banna is known to the mighty, and somebody knew you would return here if you survived. They planted a transference stone near the town. We found it, but it was a one-way terrestrial portal—no chance of determining more details. The massive emanation resulting from your return was the signal for our enemies to send their people. The magical distortion was significant enough to draw the drakes. What more for waiting High Mages?”

  “So these attackers come from various groups?” asked Habrok.

  “Yes. Though the reality that they were organized in such a sophisticated manner eluded us at first. When you became the Archmage, there were a few who didn’t believe it, even if their own gods were the ones who revealed it. The usual arrogance and stupidity. These few sought to challenge you. To test the new Archmage. Fortunately, your company moved too fast and randomly to be found. We took care of such misfits. Good thing you became a tourist,” said the Gothi.

  “I get it. Haters gotta hate,” commented Tyler.

  “Huh?” reacted the puzzled Gothi.

  “A modern saying. Came after your time,” smiled the Archmage. “Though I really can’t picture you as a fighting man. You were a scholar. Archaeology really doesn’t lend itself to combat.”

  “A quaint but true maxim. Sweden has mandatory military service. At least during my time. I served in the Fallskärmsjägarskvadron, or parachute rangers. Fighting is not new to me. All these runes would make a High Mage pause,” replied the Gothi as he pointed to his armor.

  “But the situation changed a few weeks ago. Suddenly, the ones we were hunting vanished, and more hostile priests, mages, and warriors disappeared. Not only in Skaney, but in other lands. The appearance of this strange air sped up the rate of disappearances. It was at that point that we believed they became organized. If so, then somebody or something powerful enough is behind it,” continued Eleos.

  “Any idea?”

  “A web of lies and deception. A highly capable leader. The Champions of the Oak and of the Ravens have determined it to be a woman. A very elusive one. Weaving a net of blood connected by the desire to kill you,” ventured the assassin.

  “I admit I am at a loss. These are adherents of various pantheons. From what I understand, different motives drive those after me. A few due to envy or the desire to replace me, some because of being worshippers of pantheons at war with friendly deities. Others, apparently coming from a multitude of races and cultures, belong to groups who are celebrants of the latter?”

  “Exactly, my friend. Being a worshipper of the goddess of wisdom doesn’t prevent a priest from trying to cut your throat. A cleric might hold a firm belief in the power of the goddess but thinks you’re an obstacle or a danger to the faith,” explained Eleos. “And on Adar, the worship of gods is not limited by race. Even a few satyrs worship the Norse God of thunder just because of his pet goats. Though the beasts are impressive, I have to admit. The deities of Hellas can’t punish those followers for sacrilege. Different pantheon.”

  “They’re big on smiting, aren’t they?” smirked Tyler.

  “Not as much as before. Rules. You know what I mean.”

  “Each of us has a role to play in the short time we live—even deities. Their millennia of existence are nothing compared to the nature of time itself. The only question is what mortals do with their lives. Gods don’t count. The gift of choice has not been given to them,” added the Romanii mage slowly, though he was staring at the fire. The comment from Cassius surprised the Archmage. It was rare for the man to offer such insights, even if what he s
aid meant the fate and actions of the pantheons were ultimately determined by the actions and choices of their believers.

  “If we don’t choose?” slowly asked Tyler, not believing what he heard. It implied the Romanii mage tacitly believed in a being greater than any member of Adar’s pantheons. Yet such a notion clearly didn’t dissuade the would-be emperor from his bloodthirsty ambitions.

  “That still would be a choice. The universe has a way of forcing one to select one’s path,” smiled Cassius, looking at the Archmage. Tyler noticed Se-Osiris was quiet and had intentionally turned his head away, staring into the distance. What he saw in the shadows of the dead eluded the young mage. The others were staring at the Romanii.

  Waiting for a lightning bolt to strike him dead, thought Tyler. Then he realized the man was seated right beside him. Shit.

  The discussion was already making Tyler uncomfortable. It was well and good to keep one’s thoughts to oneself, but to voice them out loud was asking for trouble. He could only hope the pantheons were busy enough to overlook such potentially sacrilegious notions. Yet part of him reflected that the Romanii mage was cautious enough to word his opinion in a vague enough manner. Fortunately, the assassin of Hellas stepped into the conversation.

  “We all have our roles to play. The shepherd in a village, a town guard, the adviser of a king, or a deity in a pantheon. In the scheme of things, one acts within such living boundaries. To go beyond them is to court power beyond oneself. But there lies the challenge. There may be an unbreakable ceiling to the endeavor, but the potential for growth and ascendance is there. Consider the Archmage. His fate led him to matters beyond the comprehension of an ordinary warrior. For his friends and those who believe in him, we try to ease his way forward,” said Eleos. “For now, our fates insect with his, and there lies our individual destinies. Anybody may decide to part ways with him, but that too, is fate.”

  He forgot the use him part, thought Tyler. Then he thought of his dark shadow. The double had been quiet lately. It was uncharacteristic of Tom to be silent throughout all that happened.