The Accidental Archmage: Book Seven (Dragons and Demons)

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  “A gift from the divines, my friend. Quite convenient, if I might say so,” answered Lumeri, though the mage could sense a surprising sense of loathing in the scribe’s voice when he referred to the deities.

  That certainly wasn’t there before, observed the mage.

  Tyler took a quick look at Lumeri’s appearance and aura. Nothing had outwardly changed, but the mage believed he now could feel a sense of purpose in the demeanor of the scribe. Gone was the weary and fatalistic Lumeri. Tyler couldn’t determine what brought on the change, and didn’t know whether it was good or another disastrous development. A man cursed to live forever, to explore, and record the stories of gods and humans would have been crushed in spirit after millennia of such punishment. That was the Lumeri the mage had seen before. Now, he looked… different. More energetic. With intent. The mage finally decided it was a worrying development.

  “And your sudden appearance?” asked Tyler.

  “Ah! Recording the details of a drama unfolding, my friend. A mighty mage trapped into going to the dominion of his foe, with a loved one as a hostage. At the same time, an old enemy shows renewed strength. All that against a backdrop of a world being torn asunder. Quite a tale, wouldn’t you agree?” said the scribe with a knowing smile.

  Why do I get the feeling I am looking at a new enemy? thought Tyler. I know he’s a scribe with powers meant to protect him from escaping his punishment and the stories he carried, but something’s off.

  “I guess all that information came from your access to everything and everyone,” noted Tyler.

  “Indeed. Even your set rendezvous with Dolos was known to me. Though I was curious whether you’d really keep the appointment,” said the scribe, downing his newly arrived glass of mead in one smooth movement. “But it looks like you’d be on your way to that cursed realm afterward, so I have to take my leave.”

  “It’s good to see you, Lumeri,” feigned the mage. “And no, I won’t ask questions this time. I know you’re forbidden to tell me anything.”

  “You’re right. But the proscription does not prohibit me from telling you that in the realm of the pantheons, only pure power matters. My thanks for the time, and the mead too. Sometimes, I forget to go through the motions of being a human.”

  ***

  Weird. Not once did Lumeri mention Asag. Come to think of it, he appeared to be ignorant of the presence of Adar’s own magical entities, mused the mage.

  Tyler assumed the scribe knew about the magical fauna and flora of Adar. He would be foolish not to notice those things as he traveled throughout the world. Even Viracocha had one guarding the entrance to his temple at the ruined city.

  The only conclusion Tyler could gather from the situation was the scribe wasn’t supposed to know of it, nor did powers like Hrun and Rumpr want him to learn about them. After all, Lumeri’s mandate covered only those who came from the First World.

  Even if he did come across the Ancients of Adar, there was nothing his protection could do against the raw power of the ellri. They could easily wipe his memory of any encounter. It was their world, after all. Or an ancient bond had already been laid on him against learning anything about the Powers of Adar.

  It’s not that far-fetched a scenario, thought the mage.

  As he reflected about Lumeri’s current demeanor and the inordinate interest the cursed scribe had shown in him, the door of the tavern creaked open once again. Even from a distance, the mage could see the surprised reaction of the barkeep and the other guests.

  Three visitors in a row. Must be some sort of a record for this dump, decided Tyler.

  But when the guests and the barkeep saw who it was, they promptly returned to what they were doing.

  The Greek, observed the mage, noting the embroidered chiton didn’t give room for guessing. And a deity.

  The being was a mousey little man, roughly middle-aged, with shoulder-length hair kept in place at the back by a bit of cord. It was a person you wouldn’t even notice. He had a beard and a hooked nose, but the facial features which grabbed the mage’s attention were the eyes. Shifty and untrustworthy as hell. The mage wondered if the observation arose because of his enhanced acuity. Or if the loathing arose because of the entity’s affiliation with Iapetus.

  Astrid did say Dolos was the Greek god of trickery, but he doubted if the deity would appear as he did now to an ordinary human. Nobody would speak to him, much less touch him with a dory. The Greek glanced at them and then made his way toward their table. Without any preliminaries, the visitor joined them, sitting in the chair Lumeri had vacated. He stared at the faces before him, examining each and every individual. Tyndur started to rise up. The newcomer’s rudeness was arrogance, insult, and derision all at the same time.

  “Tyndur,” the mage murmured. The einherjar sat down.

  An amused, crooked smile appeared on the Greek’s face.

  “I am known as Poniria, and it is my displeasure to meet you all. You have been a great inconvenience to my lord, and I am sure this exercise is but a waste of time. But orders are orders,” said the being smugly.

  “You dare call yourself cunning?” Astrid spoke up, clearly insulted. “Poniria? That’s a name that better fits other gods. You’re but a minor spirit. Of trickery, at that.”

  “The demi-goddess. We’ll see about that, my dear. Unlike your family, mine is not all hot air,” replied Poniria smoothly.

  Astrid’s blades were already out and heading toward the deity’s head when the mage called to her to stop. Only Tyler’s ability to perceive the Valkyrie’s incredible speed enabled him to avoid the scene of a deity’s head flying through the air. Astrid’s blades might have found it difficult to penetrate the warped magic of the Amaroks, but against a minor god? Thaut himself would have made sure of the blades’ ability to cut deities to pieces – at least the minor ones.

  “Good control over your dogs, mage,” said the deity. “Just head due north from here. After a day or two, you’ll find yourselves in a narrow gorge. Somebody will be waiting for you there.”

  “My wife?” asked Tyler. He was already furious at the arrogant bastard, but was able to rein in his anger. So far.

  “Oh, her. Your beautiful and certainly attractive wife. She’s fine, and will continue to be in good hands, provided you fulfill your part of the bargain. I don’t know what my lord sees in you, human, even if you’re what passes for a mage during these unfortunate times. Standards have certainly dropped,” Poniria sighed dramatically. “Fail to comply, and you die. I heard some spirits have already petitioned to include your wife in their collections in the event you don’t appear before the Gates.”

  Iapetus didn’t tell his rank-and-file anything, realized Tyler. And this damn fool of a deity doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

  But Poniria’s comments about Eira had brought to life an ember of anger again. My wife. The bastards want her to be part of their harem. Even I could sense the lust of this fucker. A freaking low-level scum.

  He closed his eyes and desperately tried to control his rising temper. Unfortunately, Poniria mistook his reaction for fear and sniggered.

  “That’s better. Remember your place, human, and know my lord is already waiting for you. A token had been sent when you arrived, and I believe he’ll be happy things are going his way. Me? I guess I just have to look for another forest spirit somewhere. I believe our enemies might have a few worth taking,” the minor deity gloated.

  “There’s a growing darkness with you, sire. Don’t feed it,” a voice echoed through his mind suddenly.

  “And?” Tyler replied, icily. Only the sudden intrusion of X had prevented him from tearing Dolos apart with raw power. He could already imagine the bloody, savage act, and decided he’d leave the head for last, leaving it to witness what was happening. Something inside him told him it would feel really, really good.

  It will grow, and subvert all of your actions to its desires. Even your thoughts would be affected, like what’s going on, said X. In the
end, its nature will determine the fate of this world. Of course, it would take time, and you’d probably either erase us or convert our nature to something more appropriate for its purpose. However, the result would still be the same.

  Complete destruction, you mean, replied Tyler as his rage deflated like a punctured balloon.

  Neither guide answered.

  ***

  Poniria then noisily stood up, kicking back his chair.

  “I’ll be going then; the Gates wait for you. Let’s see who among your friends get to reach it with you,” the haughty deity said with a smirk.

  The company didn’t react and grimly watched as Poniria walked toward the door. They fully realized their hands were tied, and there was absolutely nothing they could do about it, unless Tyler decided otherwise.

  Suddenly, a small whirlwind appeared in front of Poniria. The entity was caught off-guard. It watched helplessly as a massive warhammer, the business end crackling with red sparks, swiftly came crashing down on his head. The form of the minor god was squashed flat as the weapon scattered his remains against a glowing stone floor.

  The company stared in shock when they saw who was behind the sudden and devastating attack. Asag looked back at the group, and grinned as he held out his hand, catching a small ball of light trying to flee. Then he disappeared. Tyler immediately cast Dionysius’s spell of forgetfulness on the stupefied humans also looking at the scene. The stone floor lost its strange radiance, and as it did, the splattered human parts of Dolos vanished.

  Everyone stood up and moved forward with weapons at the ready. Asag’s actions would be deemed the company’s, and there was no telling what the consequences of the brutal attack would be. Then Asag reappeared, looked at the sleeping humans, and grinned at Tyler.

  “Good spell. I wish I had that one,” said the daemon nonchalantly. Then he looked at the weapons already drawn by the rest of the party. An enormous warhammer, the same one he used against Poniria, appeared in his hands, and then Asag adopted a battle stance.

  “Why the weapons? We’ve got enemies approaching?” he whispered conspiratorially.

  Tyler examined their surroundings and found nothing threatening. He gestured to the companions to sheath their blades. Then he tapped Asag on the shoulder. The entity had also adopted a defensive position, with his back to the group.

  “You crushed a minor Greek deity. What did you expect? We had to prepare ourselves for retaliation. No telling if he had friends waiting for him,” said Tyler as calmly as he could.

  “I don’t think so. I checked for miles around. Nobody’s coming,” replied Asag. “Otherwise, I would have taken care of them before I massaged that fellow.”

  “Let’s all go back to our table,” the mage finally said, exhaling slowly. Tyler didn’t even realize he had held his breath for so long. He needed to sit down after what happened. It was totally unexpected, and he had to ask the daemon some questions.

  ***

  “Asag, you don’t know how bad a situation you might have created. Might is the operative word. Reasons later. I just need to know a few things,” said Tyler in a low but somber tone.

  The company had returned to their seats and everyone was looking at the daemon. But Tyler could see other people in the tavern getting up and trying to resume what they were doing before Asag made his grand and savage entrance. Kobu was intently observing the guests and the barkeep even as he listened in to the group’s discussion. The mage earnestly hoped his spell worked as intended. He had no doubt the exile would eliminate anybody who showed any sign of remembering what transpired.

  “First question, what have you done to his essence after you crushed his form? I saw you catching it,” asked Tyler gravely. The ways of the daemon were unknown to him, and there was no telling if Dolos’s essence was going to be an ingredient in some new deviltry being hatched by Asag. Though the remote possibility did exist that the daemon released the Greek.

  It was the most important question of all, and he’d rather know it before all other concerns. If the insufferable Dolos were still alive, then Tyler would have no choice but to try to storm the Gates of Tartarus as soon as he could. It would be suicide, but that was the only alternative.

  “You thought I left him alive? Why would I? So he could run home and complain? No, he’s not around anymore. Didn’t get to report either, if that’s what you’re worried about. I brought him to the Void Lands and tore him apart. He did taste funny. But a deity’s spirit is still a welcome infusion any day,” explained the daemon in a conversational manner.

  If members of the company were surprised before by Asag’s attack on Dolos, it was eclipsed by the casual admission of etheric cannibalism. The daemon noted the disgusted reaction, became insulted, and then frowned.

  “Hey! Gods, dark entities, and others of our kind subsist on magic. When one such being dies, concentrated magical essence is left behind and usually returns to the ether,” clarified the outraged Asag. “That is, unless one has the ability to capture and absorb it. And what’s the fuss? Some deities do it, and our kind, well, that we most definitely do. In most instances, it does result in more power. But not in that nitwit’s instance. Too little power and an odd aftertaste.”

  “You know, Asag? I have slept overnight in a field full of dead warriors, cut to pieces in a skirmish. I had to keep awake in a dark place full of blood and gore just to avoid becoming a meal for the predators and scavengers no one admitted as the real winners of a battle. The smell was hellish. I couldn’t crawl an inch without a body part in the way. I really don’t know why, but what I saw and heard today was worse,” commented Astrid, voice marked with revulsion.

  “A bit skittish, my pretty lady? It appears you still have a lot to learn about what true horror is all about. I have glimpsed facets of it. But even I have my limits,” replied Asag.

  With a don’t pretty lady me, you bastard!, Astrid’s gauntleted fist flew straight at Asag, smashing against his armored faceplate. This time, Tyler wasn’t fast enough. A metallic crash simply sounded when the armored fist made contact. The daemon wasn’t even affected by the attack, but Astrid, on the other hand, grimaced in pain as she pulled back her arm. The mage cast a quick healing spell on her. Luckily, no bones were broken.

  “Please, losing tempers is not allowed. We’re after information, after all,” remonstrated Tyler and turned to the daemon. “Why the Void Lands? You’ve been there before, I suppose, otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to travel there.”

  It took a while for Asag to answer. It was fairly obvious the daemon was trying to remember. Finally, he told the mage that somehow, he knew the Void Lands was the best place to dispose of the deity. It was full of chaotic etheric energy. Any attempt to find any trace of a specific energy signature in that land was an exercise in futility. Asag also vaguely remembered being in the depths of that strange place looking for something. Asked what he was searching for, the daemon replied he couldn’t recall.

  “Now, why did you attack him?” asked Tyler.

  “The answer’s obvious, isn’t it? Given that tongue, who wouldn’t want to smash that obnoxious cockroach to little pieces?” said Asag indignantly. “I daresay only your order kept the fellow free from an immediate attack by the party. Tyndur there would love to burn him to ashes, Habrok with arrows piercing parts not seen by the sun, Kobu smashing that arrogant head, and Astrid would have preferred a long slice-and-dice session. I am not that constrained. An attack on my master is an attack on Asag. That includes insults. Unless specifically forbidden, that’s a given.”

  “I distinctly heard the order to you not to start anything, Asag,” spoke Kobu.

  “Ah. But that instruction was coupled with the warning not to level the village or call attention to ourselves. I have not done either, so I remain innocent,” argued the daemon.

  Now he’s a lawyer, thought Tyler. A multitalented daemon. Just my freaking luck.

  “I do have to admit I learned something when I absorbed that feeble essen
ce. He was a son of the late, digested Prometheus, which makes him a grandson of your current favorite enemy. I don’t think he’d be happy. Family is family, after all,” added the daemon.

  Chapter Fourteen:

  Memories of a Dark God

  Dinner was a subdued affair, even if Asag guaranteed no further disturbances short of an entire pantheon. It was, as Kobu said, a lucky juvenile mistake. The other tavern visitors had already left, and the mage noticed no other people coming in. It was early evening and apparently, people of the village didn’t go out after dark. Not even to the tavern.

  He went to the bar and engaged the barkeep, who was the owner, in small talk. The tavern was doing well, the war considered. Even if the dvergar had stopped coming, itinerant traders showed up from time to time with news and needed items which were usually alchemical ingredients, reagents, and equipment.

  The tavern now earned from home deliveries of liquor and food since most of the mages and other inhabitants couldn’t be bothered to get or provide such necessities for themselves. Surprisingly, many had coin enough, and some even paid in gold. Farmers and other agricultural producers supplied the villages, greatly assisted by the more lucid of the magical practitioners. Their crops grew faster unbothered by pests, and yield had increased two-fold. Even domestic animals benefited from the help.

  The region was dotted by remote villages though the one where they had found themselves was considered to be the center of human activity. But everything existed to maintain the exiles, and there were a significant number of them from virtually all magical, alchemic, and more exotic disciplines.

  But the exiles usually kept to themselves except when a monstrous experiment got loose, turned disastrously wrong, or somebody lost his or her marbles and became a threat to everybody. Magical battles were also a feature of the landscape. Apparently, professional jealousy, imagined or real slights, or such human failings also came to the fore. But usually, such skirmishes were held outside villages. Uninvolved magical practitioners took serious offense when their work was threatened by the squabbling of others.