The Accidental Archmage: Book Seven (Dragons and Demons)

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  “Hail, Asgard and Olympus,” said Tyler when he stopped before the pair. He had thought about raising his right hand in the Roman way but figured the gesture might not be understood. And he’d rather be dead in a ditch than kneel. Tyler had deliberated on how to greet the pair, and figured that Odin came first. They were in his domain anyway.

  “Hail and hello, Havard,” replied Odin, giving him a wink, a gesture which Tyler understood to be a reassurance about the present meeting. “You appear well and more powerful too. My sincerest apologies about your wife. The incident happened in Skaney, and normally, we wouldn’t let such an affront pass us by. But Loki’s machinations had tied us up. All of Asgard and its allies are fighting as we speak.”

  “That blasted Loki! All of this world’s pantheons are in chaos, thanks to him. Though traitors made it easy for him. And now those damned Titans are acting up. I still don’t know how they managed to escape Tartarus, but I swear I’ll find out after we fix our present troubles,” exclaimed Zeus.

  They don’t know about the schemes of Iapetus? Mighty and powerful, indeed, thought the unbelieving Tyler. He might have access to more information than the two, but the mage expected more from them. But before he could say anything, Zeus turned his attention to Asag.

  “Now, this creature appears in the middle of all the devilry. Tell me, daemon, what role do you play in this tide of miseries which now afflicts us?” loudly demanded the head of the Greek pantheon.

  “I don’t know. Ask him,” smugly the daemon, pointing at Tyler.

  Bastard, swore the mage. The pair of deities transferred their attention to him, though Asag had moved to Tyler’s side.

  The mage started explaining the circumstances by which the daemon become his responsibility. Tyler tried his best in avoiding any mention of the daemon’s captor, and instead, only said something about a power in the mountains that also didn’t like the idea of the daemon being free. But that power had decided that was time to test whether Asag’s opportunity for redemption had arrived. The mage concluded the narrative by saying that by the time he arrived, the power had hoped the daemon had been rehabilitated to some extent and released him under Tyler’s recognizance, subject to a powerful geas as a means of controlling Asag.

  Surprisingly, the pair of mighty gods didn’t even blink at the revelation that a power resided in the Dokkalfr Mountains, an entity powerful enough to bind and imprison the daemon. And it took the better part of two pantheons to weaken and eventually overcome Asag. The implication surprised Tyler. Instead of questions about the nature of what the mage had encountered, Odin looked at Zeus.

  “I did suspect that son of mine wasn’t exactly telling the truth when he said Asag had been taken care of. I beg your Lordship’s pardon,” the Norse deity apologized.

  “No need, Lord Odin. Even if we knew, neither of us would consider rousing a sleeping, unknown power. But I do believe it is of this world, and that makes matters complicated,” replied Zeus. “At least it bound the daemon for a time, and kept him out of our long list of headaches.”

  “But what of our present concern here? Time is precious to both of us, and the sooner we’re both back in the fighting, the better,” advised the one-eyed deity.

  Attention was then back to Tyler, to the mage’s great discomfort. But he noted the deities’ knowledge of the existence of powers native to this world and their reluctance to engage them. The mage guessed some conflict must have arisen in the past, and Earth’s pantheons came out of it beaten black and blue. The natural human hesitance to discuss bad experiences seemed to extend to the deities of the First World.

  “He’s tied to me and my welfare, so Asag does have to obey my orders. He won’t be making merry while I am around,” assured the mage, taking his cue from Asag’s merrymaking comment.

  “We do trust you, Havard, and I believe I also speak for Zeus here. Make sure that trust isn’t broken,” solemnly replied Odin.

  “And I believe I still owe you a favor, and do make up your mind. Having such a debt rankles my conscience,” added Zeus with a detectable degree of slight irritation.

  He has a conscience? thought the mage, an observation made only half in jest. Then the consideration he had been thinking about came to the fore. Should I tell them about Iapetus? Consequences? Though I believe that asshole mentioned not giving a shit whether I tell the pantheons or not.

  “I do have some information which might have escaped your attention, being busy as you are, but first a question, just to satisfy my curiosity – does the new god of war fight on your side?” he asked Zeus.

  Ever since the wars started, Tyler had been keen to know whether he had made the right decision in demanding that Deimos be made the new god of war, replacing his cowardly father, Ares. Given that fact, somehow, he felt some responsibility in any significant decision Deimos might make.

  “Deimos does his duty as an honorable god should, and though I sense it pains him, to war he goes against brother and father,” Zeus answered.

  It was evident that the idea of the internecine war didn’t sit well with him. With their numbers lessened, Tyler knew the current conflict would whittle down what remained of those who were able to migrate to Adar and survived the Divine Wars.

  “Conflict among kin is a sight which shouldn’t exist in the first place,” commented Tyler. “But the root of your troubles – be it in Skaney, Hellas, Kemet, or other kingdoms now in turmoil – lies closer to home. Iapetus is its name.”

  Chapter Seven:

  A Story of Sins Past

  “Iapetus.”

  It was Zeus. The name was uttered in a low, chilling tone. The Greek deity stood silent, looking but not seeing as his mind raced through memories only he knew about. Breaking the uncomfortable silence, Odin turned to the mage.

  “You’re sure about that?” the Norse deity inquired.

  “I am. He even dragged us both – Eira and me – down to his hole before, trying to convert me with his proselytizing. Naturally, I refused and this happened. He even had the dubious courtesy to leave a calling card right in this clearing. He wanted me off the game board while his plan unfolded,” explained the mage, voice infused with anger.

  “Calling card?” came the inevitable query.

  “A marker with a message,” explained Tyler. “He wanted me in Tartarus for the duration. Evidently, he knew about that black whirlwind in Scarburg. Without that small complication, I would have been dead a long time ago.”

  “But knowing you, my mage of a friend, plans you do have. Not that I have to spell it out in this open space,” smiled Odin. “But a small gift would aid you in your journey.”

  The deity moved to the mage and gave him a red runestone, made of chalky material.

  “If dire straits threaten during your travel, crush it and aid will come. I can’t say who or what it will be as the battle lines in Skaney remain fluid. But definitely, help will arrive,” explained Odin, still grinning.

  Zeus finally stirred and walked to Tyler.

  “I still trust you and your judgment, young mortal. What you displayed during the trial of Ares and his sons was worthy of legend and is still the talk of Olympus. Asag, I leave to you and your judgment, but be warned – the daemon is an unknown element in the scheme of things. No deity of mine will disturb you while Asag is your responsibility. Though I guess Nike and Athena would both be furious at my decision. This fellow has an abominable way of dealing with the female form, and women have long memories,” said Zeus. His voice was normal, but Tyler could still sense a disquiet beneath the tone.

  “But I won’t be outdone by my host. Here, an artifact from my armory. It is but a trinket. Break it in half and like Odin’s stone, aid will come. It could be me, a deity or magical creature of Hellas, or a human hero,” added Zeus as he turned over a small, wafer-thin bronze coin engraved with tiny glyphs.

  Tyler noticed that the Wanderer had a faraway look in his eyes, and when he saw that the mage and Zeus had concluded, he took his fell
ow deity by the arm.

  “With that, First Mage, we bid you goodbye, and our utmost thanks for your revelation. Again, we are in your debt. But for now, we have allies and friends to consult, strategies to plan, and rebellions to crush,” said Odin. Somehow, when he said those words, the weary, though calm, features of Gangari the Wanderer disappeared, replaced by the face of Odin the All-Father, the warrior.

  At that moment, the two disappeared. A scrying spell by Tyler revealed no lurking threat, though he considered that the presence of the two deities was enough to drive away anybody or anything bearing malice against the company. Then he noticed that Asag had appeared beside him.

  “Good job. Nicely done,” wryly commented the daemon. “Quite powerful, those two.”

  Tyler knew Asag better now, and the daemon wouldn’t have come to him just to praise his actions. What Asag had just begun was but the appetizer for the main course.

  “What is it now, Asag?” said Tyler, his annoyance quite obvious.

  “Well, if I knew you would be meeting Zeus on the subject of Iapetus, I would have given you some advice,” replied Asag with exaggerated concern.

  Tyler’s mind furiously raced to determine what the daemon was up to. Again. But the mage was also concerned about how fast the daemon was able to learn how to press his buttons. Asag turned out to be an astute reader of men and deities.

  “Advice? You’re the one they were concerned about,” countered Tyler.

  “And you did mention Iapetus. But next time, never mention Prometheus in the same conversation,” offered Asag solicitously. “Or Menoetius, either. Bad memories. Liable to give rise to the throwing of lightning bolts and decapitating strikes.”

  “Wait. I am not that familiar with Greek mythology, except for what is generally known. You know – the pantheon and some stories related to it.”

  “Stories! Hah. Made up by humans or told to them by deities who twist the skeins of the truth,” dismissed Asag. “If you ask me, most of them are worth dung piles. Large ones.”

  “Let me call Astrid first. She’s more familiar with it and probably can clarify matters. At least for my understanding,” replied Tyler.

  “Your choice. But I got many of my stories from first-hand sources, just to let you know. None of those embroidered and namby-pamby tales,” said the offended daemon.

  When Astrid came over, the mage filled her in on what it was all about, and hopefully, clarify for Tyler some of the things Asag would be describing. The Valkyrie mentioned she would do what she could, but admitted that her knowledge was not that comprehensive, having lived most of her life in Skaney.

  “Even so,” said Tyler, “your knowledge is better than mine. Now, what was that about Prometheus and that other fellow? I do know that the former was said to have been punished for bringing man fire. A large bird would eat his liver every day as he lay bound with chains to a large rock on top of some mountain.”

  “Menoetius, arrogant Menoetius. Killed during the Titanomachy. By Zeus himself, I heard, and with a lightning bolt. No surprise there. But the sons of your nemesis do exhibit human traits and failings, or as a Greek historian said, exemplify those traits. Willful arrogance, for Menoetius, foolish daring for Atlas, slyness and craftiness for Prometheus, and, oh! my favorite – moronic stupidity in the case of Epimetheus,” answered Asag with a quick laugh.

  “He’s right, sire. Those are the sons of Iapetus, and the tale is told how the Titan begged Zeus to let his favorite son, Prometheus, go free. Odes are written about how deep was the grief of the father when informed about the fate of his son,” said Astrid.

  “What happened to Prometheus after the Migration?” asked Tyler. Considering that many myths and legends had moved to Adar, the fate of man’s supposed benefactor stoked his curiosity.

  “Nobody knows, sire, or if they did, not a word has been spoken about his eventual fate,” the Valkyrie replied.

  “But I do,” said Asag with his trademark mischievous grin. “Walking around Tartarus enabled me to make the acquaintance of so many poets and historians. Pindar was there, Aeschylus too, even Hesiod! Revealing something which one god wanted to be known doesn’t mean other deities are of the same mind.”

  “Now to Prometheus! Yes, he was punished, that much is certain. But unlike the Norse, some of the epic punishments were, should we say, overlooked during the move to Adar,” continued Asag, who then mused, “In hindsight, I really can’t blame them. They’re such a large, no, huge, family. Some things were bound to be forgotten and left behind.”

  “Oh, stop the drama and come out with it,” pushed Tyler. It had been a long, tiring day for the mage. On some other day, he would have appreciated the theatrics of the drawn-out conclusion, but not today.

  “If you’re going to be artless and unappreciative about it, then you get the short version. I have heard it told that with the disappearance of the Greek pantheon from the First World, the geas about the liver disappeared as well as the regenerating magic of the punishment. So here you are, a humongous eagle created out of magic, then you come back and find there’s no liver to feed on, you’re hungry, and there’s a bound meal before you. Guess what happened?” said the still grinning Asag.

  “The freaking eagle ate him?” exclaimed the mage.

  “I can’t really blame the eagle. Magic was also disappearing, and Prometheus was also a magical entity. At least the bird got to live for a while,” answered the daemon. Tyler couldn’t determine whether the daemon was facetious about the ending to such a heroically tragic tale, but Asag’s face retained a semblance of sympathy for the bird.

  “No wonder Iapetus has gone mad,” whispered Astrid.

  “That’s what I call royally pissed, Valkyrie. You could say touched in the head, probably with a sledgehammer. Or my personal preference – spatulaed in the brain. We don’t call kings, even former kings, that word. Mad. Or crazy. Doesn’t fit royalty,” reproached the daemon.

  “He was a king?” mumbled Tyler.

  “Don’t you know? He was the lord of the Titans during the Titanomachy. He was referred to as the piercer. Quite brutal and also known as the god of violent death, among other titles. There’s a barrelful of them.”

  ***

  “A formidable enemy, indeed,” said Tyndur as he came close to the group. “I wouldn’t worry about our security. The remaining aura of those two deities would be enough to warn predators and minor deities to stay away, though Habrok still stands guard.”

  “But it does eventually disappear, doesn’t it?” asked the mage.

  “It does, but considering the heads of two pantheons were here, it will last some time. I suggest we camp here,” the einherjar advised.

  My wards and Birki would be growing up some more then. I hope their training is proceeding on par with their growth. And I don’t understand why there lately seems to be a parade of magical sources, the mage thought.

  He looked in the direction of the elemental who still kept his distance, shrouded in the shadows of the trees. The presence of the elemental was ignored by Zeus and Odin, baffling the mage. Another question to be answered at a later date.

  “Hrun, would it be alright if we camp here today? We can move out at first light,” said Tyler. “I believe we all need the rest.”

  “As you will, Havard. Though a short journey will be required to the foothills of those heights, a prominent hillock does my power for travel require,” answered Hrun.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” yelled back the mage.

  Saying he had to attend to preparations for the camp, Tyndur left. Astrid commented that the einherjar was right, the Titan was a mighty enemy.

  “Not so mighty now,” observed Asag. “Tartarus has a way of draining the power of any entity or creature damned to be there. It is an oddity, and I suspect the energy it sucks out of the punished goes into another realm. Not that I would be interested in visiting whatever that place is, though surprisingly, it vaguely reminds me of something. But I can’t remember what.
Though anything that feeds through that dark place must be foul and nasty. Mostly nasty.”

  “Tartarus didn’t drain you?” asked Tyler, catching the incongruity in Asag’s story.

  “Why should it? I wasn’t condemned to be in that place. It was more like… a visit… a tour… poking my nose into places. Something like that,” replied the daemon, but his tone again disturbed Tyler.

  Asag was hiding something about his visit to Tartarus, though the mage didn’t know what. Asking uninformed questions would only lead to vague and misleading answers. But the sensation he felt from the bond tying him to the daemon clearly indicated that Asag’s reply was a half-truth. Add to that suspicion Asag’s admissions about visiting various underworlds, and one senses that he was indeed searching for an important object, being, or phenomenon. But then Tyler reflected that the daemon could be telling the truth. Asag could just be concealing an event which was a blow to his pride, an incident too shameful to admit.

  “You know, Astrid, one thing really sticks out from that side of your family,” Asag told the Valkyrie.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” replied the mystified Astrid.

  “The Greek side. It’s so clear-cut. The overthrowing of parents by their children. You have Ouranos and his generation overthrown by the Titans, and in such a bloody and distinctive manner too. Then you have the Olympians booting out their parents. So distinct, so tragically dramatic. It must mean something on a cosmic scale. One doesn’t have such an event twice in a row just for nothing,” mused the daemon, stroking his chin.

  “They said Kronos used a sickle, though that’s the prevailing version. I’ve heard others. But whatever it was, I sure hope it was a sharp one,” Asag added abruptly, leaving the implications of what he uttered hanging in the air, alongside Astrid’s suddenly pale face.