“A true immortality is a curse, Archmage. It is never a gift,” Asag laughed. “And there I was, caught in a mighty spell, with the caster demanding I curse her with immortality. I couldn’t do that, you know. Rules of the conjuration. Death, in all its forms, would get mad at me. I got her the next best thing.”
Asag granted the priestess long life, but tied her soul to the spell. She could die, but then wake up with no memory of her death and in a body fashioned by the magic around her. But she would remember her previous lives. A cycle that would repeat itself over and over again until the time came that no more magic was available.
“She’s dead?” exclaimed the mage. It was a neat solution to the problem, but incredibly cruel. But in a way, it fulfilled the demand of the priestess.
“Undead. Of a sort. Funny, all she needed to be free was to give up her gifts, but I guess some mortals never learn, or are too stubborn for their own good.
Chapter Fifteen:
The Pythia
The seeress’ location was off the main track leading to the northern mountains and entailed half a day of travel. The only good thing about it was it went in the direction of the Gates and served the mage’s attempt at deception.
The company, as usual, didn’t question the mage’s decision. Though Tyler wished at least one of them asked about what they were doing, but that was trust, he reflected. After so many adventures together, they were willing, even eager, to follow him into a literal hell. Trust reposed in a leader is an onerous burden, he mused. Given the discovery that his enemies were targeting the companions, the weight of responsibility became immeasurably heavier.
Nearing the location, a cursory spell revealed the presence of a watcher. The eyes of Tartarus were now active. Tyler looked at Asag who gave him a wink.
“Let it report first,” the mage whispered hurriedly. He already suspected what the daemon was going to do. Then Asag abruptly disappeared. The party stared at the mage, and when he nodded, continued walking along the road. After several seconds, the daemon reappeared.
“I apologize for the delay. The thing was fast. A keres. Was a keres. I am not surprised. They do exemplify violent death. Right up that bastard’s alley,” reported the daemon.
After about thirty minutes, Asag told Tyndur to veer to the left and find a path leading to the hills overlooking the main road. The einherjar shook his head and shouted back that he couldn’t find his way out of a barrel, and scouting was Habrok’s job. Sure enough, the ranger quickly found it. It was overgrown with grass and could barely be seen.
As they crested yet another hill, a clearing awaited them below. In the middle was a miserable hovel made of a patchwork of planks and rotten timber. Small trees could be seen in the glade and beside the structure. The mage saw it was only through the support of the trees that the shack remained standing.
Asag turned to the company and asked that only he and the mage approach the shelter. The rest would deploy in a defensive formation around it, but with the companions facing outward. Then came his final instruction. Whatever happened, the companions were not to interfere. Kobu naturally protested.
“My dear exile, rest assured your master is not the one in danger of any attack. I believe the dweller within those walls still has a grudge, or grudges, against me,” Asag boldly assured the exile. “Let me handle it. The story unfolding here is older than the kingdoms themselves. And as far as I know, only she could give us what we want. Our Greek foes owe her quite a debt, and the girl has a long memory. Well, I could create what we need, but that would attract more of my so-called debtors.”
The exile only relented when the mage gave him a direct order. Then the pair started walking down the hill. A quick glance back, and Tyler saw Kobu and Tyndur already discussing the deployment around the hovel. It was a quick trip down, though the mage had to be careful about slipping on the grass and covered tree roots. Tumbling down was not only undignified, but also liable to break his neck.
As they reached the flat ground of the glade, the mage suddenly felt the swift gathering of a massive amount of magical energy. He quickly glanced at Asag walking several paces in front of him. If the daemon noticed the magical surge, he gave no sign and continued on to the house, if it could be called that.
“Damn you, daemon! You dare show your face? After all this time?” came a woman’s shout. Surprisingly, it was the voice of a young woman. From Asag’s description, the mage expected the hoarse yelling of an ancient crone. The tone he heard was melodious to the ear, even if furiously angry.
The shout, its fierceness evident, was followed by several sizeable lightning bolts, all focused on Asag. The resulting explosion threw the mage backward. He painfully landed on his butt, his dragon armor notwithstanding.
Thank God, my shields helped, thought the mage as he shakily stood up. That close to the explosion, and it might have fried anybody without protection.
He looked at the daemon. Asag was standing, though his entire figure was blackened by the furious barrage. He turned to the mage and grinned.
“She’s learned new tricks. Good for her,” said Asag, with only the whites of his teeth showing through the soot. “Come on, let’s go greet her.”
“And then die?” said Tyler loudly, wondering where the daemon got the moronic incentive to continue. “A deluge of lightning bolts is not enough warning for you?”
“She just misses me. Hurry up,” replied Asag. For some reason, the daemon was excited.
The daemon got to the door first and didn’t even knock. He swung it open, and Asag’s head suddenly crashed to the side, shaking the ramshackle house and detaching several logs from the makeshift walls. Tyler saw a figure at the door, with her palm upraised. The mage halted.
Anything or anybody strong enough to do that to the daemon is worth some careful thinking, thought Tyler with concern. Even Astrid, with her demi-goddess status, wasn’t able to do it with her armored fist, and now, a barehanded slap staggered Asag.
“Where were you? I tried so hard to summon you again! To the point I lost everything! Everything!” screamed the woman as she tried to slap Asag once more. This time, Asag caught her wrist. The daemon looked at the mage with a forced smile.
“I’ve got some explaining to do first. I’ll call you when we’re finished. Go practice some magic or whatever,” said the daemon as he pushed the woman back into the shack and closed the door.
Tyler didn’t see her appearance as she was covered by Asag’s bulk and remained within the shack. The mage walked back to the edge of the clearing, waving his hands at the alarmed companions. He sat on the grass facing the pile of planks called a house and waited.
Suddenly, he could feel a flood of emotions through his bond with the daemon. Embarrassed, he sealed that part of the bond, temporarily closing off any feedback. Tyler couldn’t believe it, but it looked like Asag had feelings for the woman. It was a surreal experience.
Asag? An entity who casually killed off a bunch of dokkalfr by burying them under stone pavements? One who talks about tearing limbs and heads off as if it were nothing? Not to mention that camazotz head. Add to that the innumerable deities and magical beings he has killed, and I believe he might have destroyed cities and kingdoms along the way. That Asag? Now acting like a besotted lover? Is this really happening? reflected the mage. I must be dreaming. It’s… unreal.
An hour passed, and still, the companions waited. At one point, Kobu came down with food and water. Nobody said anything, though the curiosity was evident in their eyes and movements. Tyler was thankful that at least he got to sleep some more. He estimated he only had two hours of sleep due to those squids.
Finally, the mage saw the door creak open, and Asag stepped out. Tyler stood up. The daemon waved him over, but the mage shook his head and motioned for the daemon to come to him. He had some questions before they went inside the place. Smirking, the daemon walked to the mage. Tyler reopened the bond between them, and to his surprise, the bastard was happy.
&n
bsp; “I know you have questions, Archmage. But be quick. She knows of your request and more. Her short patience and temper, though, have not changed,” said the daemon hurriedly.
“Who is she?”
“The Pythia. The original one. And no, she doesn’t want to share her real name. Only I know that, and probably a few others if they still remember,” replied Asag.
“What’s a Pythia?” asked the puzzled mage.
“You really are a visitor, and an ignorant one at that,” replied Asag, shaking his head. “A quick tale then. Ignorance of her existence would be an intolerable insult for her.”
“Have even heard of the Oracle of Delphi?” asked the daemon.
“She’s that Oracle?” blurted out Tyler.
Asag stared at the mage. “At least, you’ve heard of the legend.”
The daemon clarified that Pythia was the woman’s known name. It became the title later on for her successors. But Pythia was the first. A Titan’s daughter. Gaia, in fact. Though Asag guessed the mother was dead. By her very nature, she couldn’t leave the First World. Pythia was captured by Apollo who turned her shrine into his own. But with the decline of the Titans and the weakening of her mother, she steadily lost her youth, but not her powers. The problem was Apollo was really not partial to old women.
“He kicked her out? But some depictions of the Oracle were of old women! Saw it on the net,” said Tyler.
“What’s has a net to do with her depictions?” asked Asag curiously.
“First World term. Sorry. I’ll explain at the proper time,” replied the mage. I sure hope not. Answering that question would give rise to a lecture series.
“But some do show her as young and beautiful, don’t they?” smiled the daemon. “People do recall the stories of how she looked the last she appeared – old and frail. That description must have gone down through the generations. But those beautiful women were but mortals imbued with Apollo’s peos, sorry, energy, in turn strengthened by the innate, though fading, power of the shrine. Got it now?”
“Got it,” replied the mage.
“Then into the den of the lioness we go. Address her as Pythia. That’s the last shred of honor she has left,” advised Asag.
The interior of the shack was dimly lit by slivers of sunlight flowing through the cracks in the walls. Tyler looked up and saw none coming from the ceiling. At least, the roof provided enough protection from the elements. A cowled, seated figure awaited them. The mage could feel an unnatural eroticism in the air, and wondered whether it was intentional or merely a by-product of the Oracle’s aura. If it was the latter, then she must be incredibly alluring.
“Sit down, Archmage, and you too, traitorous hellspawn,” instructed a soft, sexy voice.
Damn. That voice is hot, the unbidden thought burst through Tyler’s mind.
As the pair sat down, the Oracle removed her cowl. The dumbfounded Tyler looked upon an innocent, beguiling face. Beautiful beyond description, with just the right amount of wildness in her eyes. And her eyes were emerald green, same as Eira’s.
A Titan’s beauty. Straight from Gaia’s magic. No wonder she looks like that. Athens and Nike were gorgeous in their own way, but nothing like this, observed the mage, his heart beating fast. And what the fuck is happening to me? I am a happily married man!
Then he noticed Asag looking at him with a knowing smile.
“An Archmage, huh?” Pythia’s voice called their attention.
She stared intently at the mage for a few minutes, making Tyler extremely uncomfortable. He didn’t sense threat or danger, or even a magical probe, though flustered as he was, the mage doubted he would have noticed anything.
Good thing the Oracle wore a shapeless robe, otherwise, his physical reaction to her body would have been painfully obvious. And given that incredibly preternatural beauty, Tyler didn’t doubt for a second that she had the figure to match. And more.
“Why do you need me, Asag? This boy has power enough, more than sufficient to crush any pantheon,” sternly asked the woman. “You’re wasting my time again.”
“There lies the problem, my dear Pythia, though please go easy about that crushing a pantheon statement. That’s something we don’t want to spread. You’ll understand in a while. So, how do I explain this? Never mind. The direct answer would do – he still doesn’t know how to use them. Some minor spells here and there, but otherwise still a fawn,” explained Asag.
Pythia’s gorgeous face stared at the daemon; her mouth was open with disbelief. Then she laughed. Loudly and continuously. But even her mirth had a pleasant quality to it. Never mind that Tyler knew he was the subject of the laughing fit. The Oracle only stopped when she nearly fell off her chair. She looked at the faces of the pair again.
“Oh, you’re serious,” she said softly.
“I thought you explained things already,” the mage told the daemon crossly.
“I did. But I didn’t talk about you,” replied Asag.
“A visitor. With such powers. Nothing like this has happened before,” Pythia interrupted. “But if what you say about not being knowledge is true, then Fate must be laughing right now. Incidents like this greatly amuse her.”
“Don’t give me that kind of reaction. She has her quirks, like any other powerful being. Ever heard of heroes finding a magical sword and being made to choose between walking away or taking the sword with a free curse? That’s Fate. She has these little ironies all walking on magical and non-magical worlds. On Adar, you’re the biggest irony there is. But, hush, something comes to me,” said the woman.”
The Oracle closed her eyes. Tyler felt the daemon tug at his arm and saw a finger across Asag’s lips. The expression on the Oracle’s face changed at times – amazement, horror, anger, happiness. The mage saw she was sweating heavily. Absent-mindedly, he thought she looked extraordinarily sensual and seductive. Realizing what he had just thought, Tyler quickly turned away.
Eira has spoiled me, thought the mage. Now the absence of any physical contact with her for such a long time has increased my urges.
“That was horrifying, yet illuminating,” came Pythia’s voice. The mage looked back. Her irises suddenly turned white.
“Death awaits on the left, and
Perdition on the right.
Powers call and bid you obey;
The heart and brain battle,
Anaideia proposes, Epiphron disposes.”
Then she collapsed. If not for Asag, she would have hit her head on the stone floor.
“Blast! It’s been a long time since she did that blank stare thing of hers,” asserted the daemon, carrying her and gently laying Pythia down on the bed. Asag looked around.
“She deserves better than this,” said the daemon with disgust.
“To be frank, I was expecting a wizened old woman,” replied the mage.
“That just her business face,” clarified Asag, looking at the sleeping woman. “That way, she doesn’t get bothered. She’ll be alright. Let her rest.”
The duo went back to their chairs to wait for Pythia. The mage thought about what Asag had said. There were questions he wanted to ask, but it seemed improper to raise them under the Oracle’s roof. Unfortunately, the daemon could sense his unease.
“What’s upsetting you?” suddenly asked Asag.
“Well, you said she was a Titan’s daughter. Isn’t it dangerous to ask her about those things? She’s related to that fellow waiting in Tartarus. And she now looks young. You said she got kicked out because she got old,” said Tyler.
“The Titanomachy. Gaia didn’t take any side in that war. They were all her children. She entrusted the Oracle and her shrine to the enemies of Olympus since those bastards were the older generation. Didn’t you ever wonder why some of the Titans, their war leader included, were merely consigned to Tartarus?” asked the daemon ironically. “Before, it had been the progeny kills the parent, then the next generation does the same. Why didn’t it happen to the Titans who lost in the war? Well, the br
ave losers traded their miserable asses for knowledge and access to their secrets. Apollo got the Oracle at Delphi. Actually, they gave the Olympians the key to Gaia’s barrier. And Apollo’s peos got free rein for a very long time.”
“He raped her?” exclaimed the stunned Tyler.
“Of course, he did. Don’t act so shocked. Didn’t you learn anything about deities? She might be an aunt to the bastard, but trophies of war don’t have a choice,” answered Asag.
“Then why would she hate the Titans? Shouldn’t it be the Olympians?” asked the now befuddled mage. The entire thing seemed too convoluted. In his view, Pythia should be mad at the winners, not at the losers.
“Betrayal, Archmage. Apollo’s actions were nothing compared to the pivotal act of betraying Gaia’s trust,” explained Asag.
“Stop talking about somebody when she’s unconscious, you ridiculous excuse for a daemon,” Pythia’s voice called out. “If that’s what you really are.”
Tyler immediately shut his mouth. If there was a brewing word war again, he didn’t want to be in the middle of it. The figure sat up on the ridiculous excuse for a bed. Yet the last phrase uttered by the Oracle was strange.
If that’s what you really are. It was a statement worth keeping in mind, thought Tyler.
“Pythia, this… this… garbage of a dwelling is beneath you. May I…” Asag began to say.
“It’s too late for that, don’t you think? I can take care of myself!” shouted the Oracle.
Uh-oh, thought the mage as he tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. As the usual recriminations about Asag’s failure to respond to his summoning began once more, Tyler desperately tried not to listen. He wanted to cover his ears with his hands, but was concerned about incurring the wrathful attention of Pythia. He did arrive with Asag and to his mind, guilty anew by association.
Yet he was curious why Asag didn’t just come out and say he was imprisoned? It couldn’t be a spell, as Zeus and Odin knew about it. But the mage noticed it was a mostly one-sided fusillade of words. Tyler didn’t realize the daemon could have that much patience in him.
The Accidental Archmage: Book Seven (Dragons and Demons) Page 18