The Accidental Archmage: Book Nine: The Dragon Houses

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  Tom stared at him for a few seconds. The Archmage knew he was being assessed, and his scheming twin was determining how far he could push the limits of its proposal.

  “I’ve absorbed what I could of your legacy. The rest are open and await you, though I created a block preventing you from being aware of such a situation. But Plan B requires your access to the knowledge,” declared Tom.

  “The first part I understood. The second is all you. Clarify,” replied the mage in the sternest tone he could muster.

  “Creation. That part of the legacy is denied me, but I need you to employ it.”

  “Still clear as mud.”

  Tom visibly sighed. Yet the Archmage wasn’t sure if it was but an act.

  “Here’s the deal. I give you access to full knowledge of Elder lore. Understanding and using it is another matter. That part belongs to you. But I could guide you toward the part dealing with creating forms that I want. The rest of the legacy does not interest me as it’s beyond my nature. To be honest, there’s a part of the collection that defies my attempts to map its contents. It appeared to deal with Creation, yet I can’t be certain.”

  The reply left a dumbstruck Archmage in its wake. All the pain. All the struggles. All his efforts. It has now come to this pivotal moment. He didn’t doubt the truth of his double’s revelations. Tom even identified that inexplicable additional tablet. Yet the word forms alarmed him.

  “You expect me to believe you’ve learned what you want and mapped out the entire legacy in the short time since you became sentient? And I could learn them anyway. With or without your treacherous block,” answered Tyler, emphasizing a dismissive attitude. If he was going to play, the role was going to be played to the hilt.

  “I am you and also not you. I was born of Elder knowledge and exploring it was second nature. It was easy completing myself and determining the rooms and boundaries of my home. As a gesture of good faith, here’s an offering of lore. Aren’t you surprised you don’t feel drained of Elder magic? Even after that tantrum?”

  The young Archmage didn’t reply. He noticed that trait. Despite the massive outflow of power, it did not affect the ancient energy within. Whatever he lost was already refilled. Something inside his body was faintly throbbing, ready to regenerate Elder strength. Tom watched his face and then laughed.

  “You could feel it, don’t you? That’s part of Plan B. I can’t afford my esteemed Master wasting energy.”

  “What do you want?” asked Tyler.

  “I want you to create four forms of power. I want to be free. In return, I’ll leave you to the legacy and be gone from that dismal place you call your consciousness. I know that eventually, you’d be able to learn the intricacies of Elder lore. But I doubt if you have the time. Your existing enemies and problems are waiting, and I find your mastery well below what’s required to deal with them. This way, the knowledge would be opened, ready, and waiting only for an Archmage to delve into its secrets. Comprehension would take time, but not as much as it would take if you were to start at the beginning – breaking open the partitions of the knowledge and then trying to decipher their relationships.”

  “What would I ultimately gain if I released you? You’re Destruction. I didn’t forget what you did back at the Gap. Freeing you is a death sentence for Adar,” retorted the young mage. “And why do you need four shapes?”

  “Ah, the entity you saw back then was young, juvenile me. Growing pains, you see. Now that I’ve gained sentience, such a simple-minded approach to my situation now appeared so limited. Destruction is but a tool. I admit it’s part of my nature and governs my perspective, but gaining my present awareness gives me ambition. Why be a pauper when you could be king? Why be an ordinary beast when you could be… much, much more?”

  “But four shapes? You haven’t answered that part.”

  “Ah, a necessary part of my grand plan. What’s a lord without a retinue?”

  ***

  The young man couldn’t believe what he heard—a retinue. The bastard wanted to have one. It was a desire that told volumes about Tom’s motivations. A kingdom? An empire? Tyler promptly blamed Cassius. His twin heard him talking with the Romanii and found imperial ambitions worthwhile.

  Blasted mage got a convert, thought Tyler angrily as he mentally cursed the Romanii.

  “Well? Your decision, Archmage. But I guess I could give you time,” offered Tom in a suspiciously solicitous manner.

  The seemingly innocuous proposal nearly made Tyler choke. It meant more opportunity for mischief. Additional time for his twin to learn about guarded secrets and poke around his mind. Tom had just finished reviewing the Elder legacy, and the Archmage was fortunate enough that the backstabbing dick was impulsive and impatient.

  No, that wouldn’t do at all, decided Tyler immediately. Now that it’s all put in the open, the best option would be to cut clean as soon as possible. I can’t risk him going back. This mini-Loki is as terminal as the original.

  The problem was the intrinsic trait of Tom. Even if he had openly declared what was essentially world domination as his goal, such a desire could easily swing to world destruction instead. His twin clearly suffered from a deadly psychosis, and Tyler believed his double was more than capable of sowing total death and devastation. Yet, the mage had no solution to the dilemma Tom represented. For now, at least. All he could do was buy time, hoping Elder lore would give him the answer and, in the process, grant him the ability to fight on the same level as those threatening him.

  “I’ll only agree if you promise not to destroy this world,” said Tyler, knowing what he suggested went against the nature of the entity before him.

  “And what power would prevent me if I change my mind? We both know the ancient power which gave birth to me transcends ordinary magic. The simpler energy of Adar enforced oaths. I don’t think such pledges would be enforceable. By comparison, we generate Elder power. We transform it into something more formidable,” smirked Tom.

  “I could do it. I could bind you. Render you powerless to do anything,” bluffed the mage.

  “Please. Don’t play with me. I don’t even know if such a thing is possible, and your mastery of the lore leaves much to be desired. How long would it take you to be proficient in Elder magic? A hundred years? A thousand?” snapped his twin, who then looked at him. “For all its worth, I’ll give you a thousand years of this world’s safety from annihilation. But we both know it’s not worth anything if my… baser core gains ascendancy. You’ll have the same success trying to prevent the sun from rising.”

  Tyler had to admit it was a draw. Both had vested interests to pursue and stood to gain from the proposed arrangement, even if his twin posed a greater danger to Adar. But the Archmage also thought his twin had forgotten or didn’t understand one variable in his growth – the guides. They had been invaluable to Tyler. Giving them forms and the opportunity to study the entire legacy was an incredible advantage.

  Based on the speed of his double’s review of the available Elder collection, Hal and X would take no time to update themselves. H would even have a chance at regaining himself. Tyler couldn’t deal with his twin as of the present. But with the help of his guides, a chance existed in the future. If the knowledge wasn’t in the legacy, he didn’t doubt that between the four of them, they’d be able to come up with a solution.

  “All right, deal. But whether you like it, I’ll hold you to the thousand-year period. How do we do this?” said Tyler, aware that a promise not to hunt for his twin wasn’t included in the arrangement. He didn’t know why. It could be his double was that confident, had overlooked the contingency, or was driven careless by excitement. Still, the mad eagerness in Tom’s eyes struck the Archmage. It wasn’t quite the insanity displayed by Loki or the almost rabid yet focused desire for revenge given off by the Romanii. After a few seconds, Tyler identified it for what it was – the fevered desire for freedom. To the Archmage, it was the most dangerous desire there is. In its wake, the bright stars of
revenge and greed pale in comparison. There were no limits to what Tom would do, which made him doubly dangerous as a guest in Tyler’s mind.

  “Let me remove the block. The section dealing with what I desire is already marked and prepared. It would be the first to be accessed by your mind.”

  “How did you do such a thing? Restructuring the arrangement? I thought the order was fixed,” asked the amazed Archmage, surprised that it was possible to be selective in absorbing the contents of the Elder legacy. He had believed it was a sequential approach, except for additional tablets and other quirks added by the individual Elders responsible for the sanctuaries.

  “A bit of work, but not difficult. Once one had mapped the entire trove and determined the intricacies of the seals separating the tablets, you could reorder the way the information is accessed. That information’s a bonus, by the way. They’re all open, ready for plucking.”

  “Thanks,” Tyler replied sarcastically. His twin wouldn’t be able to determine the knowledge he needed without unsealing all the tablets anyway. Yet, it emphasized to the mage his need for guidance from his guides. Delving into the legacy willy-nilly could be disastrous.

  ***

  A frenzied flow of information suddenly poured into Tyler’s mind. His vision disappeared, replaced by black pain. He shut his eyes just as protesting nerve endings erupted in agony. His brain felt instantly squeezed, caught in a mental vise. The mage’s mind told him of being at the edge of a cliff as a fell wind battered his body, striving to force Tyler into an endless chasm hungrily waiting for him to fall.

  Terror filled him as the deluge of knowledge sought the nooks and crannies of his body, sowing incredible agony as they explored with abandon. The only thought in Tyler’s brain was he didn’t expect it to be this bad without the assistance of his guides. Before, the pair had helped him absorb the lore and dampened the pain. Now he was alone. Tyler doubted if his double would help him cope with the torture, even if Tom could.

  As suddenly as it arrived, the tribulation ended, leaving a physically and mentally exhausted Archmage behind. Inwardly, the flow of curses directed at his twin didn’t end and continued in a heated manner when Tyler spied a meaningful smile on Tom’s face. He saw his double didn’t undergo the same experience.

  Bastard. Having no mortal brain and body made it easy for him, realized Tyler. Of course, it wasn’t his twin’s fault, but copiously cursing him made the mage feel better.

  “Rest. Let the lore stabilize. Your Elder level would enable you to see and understand it soon enough. At least you have the basics of creating shapes. What’s lacking were the knowledge and ability to transfer consciousness into a form. Don’t bother about shaping it. It’s an ancillary skill, and I’ve got that already,” Tom called out.

  “Won’t you appear in the encampment? They’ll see the two of us since there’s no way I am going to let you out of my sight while you’re around. It’s too early to shock my companions about your existence,” replied Tyler. He could just imagine the faces of his friends.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be out of your hair. I’ve been thinking about exploring first with a little mayhem here and there among your enemies as a favor. Then, possibly north. There’s a strange, enticing land on your map,” declared Tom.

  “I’ll still hold you to those thousand years.”

  “Obsessive, aren’t we?” replied the twin to Tyler’s statement. But Tom said nothing else.

  As they talked, the Archmage could sense part of his mind dealing with the new knowledge – arranging and sorting it. It was as if, on some level, his consciousness instinctively knew what to do. The new lore was checked against existing data and gaps were filled. Still, Tyler felt a yawning abyss demanding it be filled with more knowledge. His awareness hastily retreated from the desire to feed it. He’d deal with it once his guides were back. Tyler could now complete what was lacking in their databases and give them external forms as he promised.

  The tumult in his consciousness vanished. He smiled as understanding dawned. The skill was now available though it required Elder energy as its base. No wonder his double was concerned about wasting it. The power necessary to sever their connection and seal Tom within an external form was considerable. Creating three more shapes connected to the primary essence would draw more power from the Archmage. He would recover what would be lost, but it would take time with his replenishment rate.

  Closing his eyes again, Tyler let his awareness search a waiting mind, feeling like a child opening a present at Christmas time. It had been too long since he last perused a tablet and the mage missed the sensation of discovering new power. As he searched, it was apparent that Tom had prepared the way. The exploration felt steered, effortlessly weaving through memories and concepts. Finally, a large matrix of energy emerged in his mind’s eye, glimmering faintly, with a tetrahedron shape. Within the frame was an amorphous mass of Elder power.

  The Archmage opened his eyes, keeping the shape in the forefront of his mind. Then, superimposing the design on Tom, he released a burst of Elder power in its direction. The configuration momentarily lit up, and then the four-sided pattern dissipated, leaving Tom unchanged. His twin facepalmed in exasperation.

  “That’s a shit of an effort, man! I mean, the mumbo-jumbo was good enough, but you missed the most important ingredient. WILL! Your fucking need to change what exists! To change reality itself! Come on, again! But make the energy mass bigger,” shouted an irritated Tom.

  The second attempt was successful. Tom was right, the mage reflected, though the frustrated reaction highlighted the twin’s focus on being free of Tyler. A shimmering golden cloud surrounded the double, covering his entire body. Then a trio of beams separated from the mass, forming separate wispy orbs. The mage felt a subtle change in him as an empty place appeared in his awareness. His connection to his twin was gone.

  Slowly, the golden clouds transformed into black mists with a glow all on their own. Crimson streaks whipped around the forms. Then the central cloud dissipated, leaving an unchanged Tom in its wake. Next, the other three began morphing. One grew larger, and the mage saw it forming wings and a serpentine neck. The mage could hardly believe his eyes.

  A dragon? He wants his own dragon?

  He stared at Tom, but an expectant smirk was his reply. The emerging forms finally steadied. They looked like solid black mists, shadows of what they were meant to be. Wisps of smoke floated away from their outlined bodies. The dragon Tyler saw was there, more frightening and terrible in its misty and dark appearance. A heartfelt curse escaped his lips when he saw the other two. Tom fashioned them after Jorund and Habrok.

  “You son of a bitch!” cursed the mage, stepping toward Tom with a clenched fist.

  His quarry vanished and reappeared on the neck of his black mount. Tim laughed mockingly and slapped the dragon’s side.

  “Hi-ho Silver! Away!”

  Tyler helplessly stared as his twin and the other figures disappeared, accompanied by a peal of continuing, mocking laughter. As the detestable sound faded away, one thought dominated his mind.

  Asshole.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Burning Smoke

  Tyler stared at the spot where his impudent twin vanished. Torn by a turbulent gaggle of dark emotions, he couldn’t help but worry about Tom’s proposal, even though it was too late to change his mind. Even if he believed that it was the correct decision under the circumstances, the mage couldn’t prevent tremors of anxiety burrowing into whatever self-assurance he had gained. Despite himself, the Archmage felt a chill in his bones.

  The simulacra didn’t concern him. The shapes were but extensions of the entity. What deeply troubled him was the unknown depth of Elder knowledge carried by his double. Comprehension couldn’t have come that fast after absorbing the portion of the legacy dealing with destruction. The lore was intended for a mortal from the First World. That meant human experience – a gamut of emotional and mental trials. The arrogant bastard just didn’t ha
ve that necessary tempering. Tom could stumble, and the world would pay for the consequences.

  Was I wrong? The question presented itself in his thoughts. Embers of guilt started to burn in the mage’s conscience.

  “The flipping bastard’s gone?” An irreverent shout turned him from his musing. He looked at the speaker. It was Birki. The voice was distinctively rough enough.

  “Yes,” Tyler replied sheepishly. He got too immersed in the implications of releasing his twin.

  There would be time enough to think about Tom, thought the mage, still feeling guilty. He came to find his missing daughter and instead got caught up with the mess that was his twin.

  His gaze swept over his waiting wards. Tyler knew his twin was right – they represented the beginnings of a pantheon and a powerful one at that. They embodied the essence of Adar’s formidable beings. The inclusion of Rawa, representing the ancient draconic race, only emphasized their collective strength.

  Rawa will definitely eclipse his brethren, reflected the mage. The presence of Elder energy ensured it.

  Yet Tyler was painfully aware that the dragon’s growth and stability depended on him. Based on what he knew about the race, arrogance and destruction were at the core of its being. They were gifted with abilities and strength above ancient elementals. Even Rumpr and Hrun were wary about the seniors of the race. The ancient dragons transcended their early precursors. But whether such uplifting was evolutionary or through a third party didn’t matter for Tyler’s purposes. He had a child on his hands who, if the mage failed as a parent and teacher, would cause devastation like his twin. If he slipped, Rawa could be the most powerful rogue dragon in the world. What parent would like to fail his or her child?

  Right. No pressure, he thought wryly.

  ***

  “A skita of a pig, that one,” said Birki with evident distaste as Tyler neared him.