“I like your usual, it makes one feel so alive,” Asag grinned. “But back to the leaders. They’re using underground lava flows as cover. Ingenious, the skunky buttholes. It took me some time to find them. There are three of them, as Her Majesty described. But only one is worth the attention, the other two are just plain magical pests.”
Then something about what he considered came back to the mage. Water. A cold spell. Condensation. Tyler immediately posed the question to his guides.
“It is possible, sire. But considering what you are suggesting, it would involve a massive amount of magical power. Still, we can’t be sure we’d be able to achieve the effect desired. At your present level, it would require almost all our reserves and whatever Elder power we have stored,” answered Hal.
“I guess that’s the only way to handle this battle. We can’t have the enemy nearing the dwarven battle lines. That fog would literally cook them where they stand. We’ll worry about the survivors, those draken, and the jotnar leaders later. Dwarven attacks are not doing anything, and I don’t think it would even make a difference if they could see what they’re trying to hit,” advised Tyler hurriedly.
“So, the fog first. Then when we’re at our most vulnerable, we worry about what survives, the drakens, and the leaders,” replied Hal.
“Not if Asag could make it difficult for the leaders to surface. That daemon could play all he wants as long as he doesn’t bring down this mountain range,” replied Tyler quickly. “While we recover, Gullin and the companions, plus the dwarves, handle the draken and whatever is left.”
“Impressive, sire,” remarked Hal.
“What do you mean?” asked the puzzled mage.
“You’ve managed to come up with a plan without totally losing your temper even once at what appeared to be a hopeless situation and the rock daemon’s needling,” said X. “We both believed you would erupt in mindless fury somewhere along the line.”
“Thanks? I think,” replied Tyler, unable to determine whether he was just commended or insulted.
***
Tyler called the einherjar over and asked the warrior to gather the companions and the two dwarven princes for a meeting. As people gathered, the mage glanced at the battlefield again. The deadly cloud was at the halfway point to the dwarven lines. At the distance, he could already distinguish parts of the approaching armies. He could see giants, fire drakes, strange beasts, Sutr’s warriors, and other jotnar. Terrible and deadly creatures, but not as dangerous as the nearing cloud of boiling death.
The mage proceeded to brief everybody on what he intended to do and what he expected the others to execute. For the dwarven princes, it was the fact that even if Tyler succeeded in removing the magical mist, their forces still had to contend with the survivors of three great armies. The fire drakes would be a particularly thorny problem.
There were thousands of them, and the mage doubted if they would be affected by his ground-based spell. The rest of the companions were to protect the mage because of the drain on his energy, but Thyma was to cast spells in support of the dwarven front ranks. Asag was to create problems for the hidden leaders and do what he did best.
“Mayhem and killing?” asked the daemon.
“To your heart’s content,” replied the mage. “But try to avoid affecting this mountain range. It wouldn’t do to defeat the enemy and yet end up destroying Sterkstein ourselves.”
“Ah, block lava flows and throw up rock barriers. Just to be clear, I could try to kill them? I wouldn’t want to deprive you of the honor if my Master wants to do the glorious deed himself,” Asag continued.
“You can try all you want, Asag. Just don’t do it close to us. Somewhere north. Upend the entire landscape if you want. Turn the Plain of Fire into the Plain of Rocks. Anything short of attacking the jotunn lord himself,” explained the mage. He was getting exasperated, but he understood Asag’s desire to know his limitations.
“Even assuming we manage to remove the cloud and kill off half the enemy, there’s still a lot of those flaming rats,” observed Habrok.
“I have to admit this might be our most difficult battle yet. At Hedmark, we got lucky. Let’s hope we can pull it off twice in a row. But then again, all men must die eventually, even einherjars,” commented Tyndur.
“All men. But we are not men. We are dwarves. We survive,” said a smiling Otr.
“Nor am I a man,” laughed Astrid.
Gullin and Thyma just smiled at the exchange. Though the mage could hear the Oracle whisper to the draken.
“This, I have to see,” Thyma spoke softly.
Strangely, Asag was clearly excited and could barely contain himself. Tyndur before was of the same mold, but his experiences with the party had clearly mellowed him out. The mage felt constrained to rein him in and let a cooler Asag venture into battle. The daemon was never a tactical genius; it was all crush-and-smash to him.
“Take care, Asag. I wouldn’t want to report to the old man that you perished fighting against jotnar,” warned Tyler.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m going to have fun! But I have to admit the big one downstairs could be a mouthful,” mused the daemon. Then he stopped and stared into the distance. “But I believe today is not death’s day for a wonderful deity like me. I sense danger in a cold place, and it’s hot as a volcano down there. So, not today.”
The daemon then disappeared, and the two dwarven leaders went off to see to their men. Thyma took up a position on a bluff overlooking the landscape, while the companions arranged themselves in a defensive formation around the mage.
“Ready, guys?” Tyler asked his guides.
“We are, sire. But the energy might not be enough to freeze in place stronger jotnar,” replied X.
“As long as we remove that fucking fog. If it comes to a melee battle, then the dwarves could hold their own. Hopefully. A fair opportunity to kill each other unfettered by attempts at cooking is the best we could do,” emphasized the mage. “After this spell, we’ll be vulnerable, the draken would come calling, and I still don’t see any of Gullin’s kin around. I don’t think we could wait. I want some distance between the dwarven lines and the enemy to give our projectile weapons and magical attacks an opportunity at inflicting proper damage.”
“Ready, sire. At your command. Though we believe once the enchantment is cast, the shield and barriers of the jotnar will be affected,” said Hal.
“Then do it,” ordered Tyler. Already he could feel the ground shaking. Asag was working.
A sudden freezing gale swept over the plain and beyond, cooling the air and condensing the hot vapor of Sutr’s mist. The mage could see sections of the cloud evaporating, revealing parts of the moving armies. Tyler focused his sight and saw water forming in the air. Humidity was increasing rapidly. Then he felt it. A massive release of energy from his body, immediately weakening him. As the mage dropped to his knees, he saw the beautiful sight of ice quickly forming around the jotnar, trapping them inside the thin cloud which now swiftly became a colossal ice prison. He held on to his staff and kept watching. Kobu had already moved behind him, supporting his body.
A furious fusillade of rocks began anew, and the mages among the dwarven defenders accompanied the rain of boulders with their spells. The front ranks of the jotnar were devastated, mowed down by giant arrows, magical attacks, and lethal ammunition coming from strange contraptions. Large flying spikes and twirling chains of sharpened steel appeared to be the projectiles of choice. The mangonels and similar weapons concentrated their assault on the rear areas of the enemy, and where they struck, frozen jotnar shattered into pieces.
Tyler could see explosions already erupting among the immobile hordes. Even the fireballs were now being used to crack the ice in the glacier-like scene full of trapped jotnar. It was like being in a shooting gallery with targets made of glass.
A small speck in the sky caught Tyler’s eye. It was approaching rapidly and was swiftly joined by more. As they passed through the murky and h
umid fog created by the battle between heat and ice, the mage saw they were fire drakes, thousands of them. Another stream covered the sky, this time of arrows and massive nets, welcoming the newcomers. The leading drakes either dropped from the air or crashed into the waiting dwarven lines, opening up gaps in the solid defense. Some were dead, and though many were badly injured when they hit the ground, their beaks, fangs, and claws led to impromptu small battles all along the front.
Then a mass of jotnar started rushing the mountainside. The guides were right. Larger jotnar were able to break free of the ice and shrug off the effects of the cold. Sutr’s power was still feeding them. Fortunately for the defenders, the survivors, though still a great host, were the slow-moving ones. Their smaller but faster brethren had already been killed off by the sudden freeze.
Thyma went to work, and her deadly vines started sprouting all over the plain. Even Habrok was getting into the act by targeting crashed drakes. Tyler could just watch helplessly as the battle continued to unfold.
Chapter Twenty-Three:
Jotunn Enraged
Not even enough energy for a healing spell, reflected Tyler. But I’ll be damned if I’ll ask Kobu to carry me to the rear.
The murderous wave of jotnar crashed into the waiting dwarven shield wall. The thundering sound of metal against metal echoed throughout the surrounding mountains. The mage observed the defenders were disciplined enough to close ranks amidst the attacks of the fire drakes and the openings forced by felled beasts.
The dwarves kept their lines tight, and the mage could see warriors moving at speed with their shields to plug the gaps, heedless of their exposed backs. They left it to those at the rear to handle any intrusion. But the arrival of the land jotnar all along the line made the work of the defense harder. If not for Thyma’s vines, the mage believed the wall of shields might have been breached already.
“Impressive, mage. You brought winter here. But summer is returning. The rogues are nearly here,” said Gullin. The weakened mage didn’t notice her arrival. Tyler didn’t think using all his magical reserves would have such a debilitating physical effect. His muscles felt like putty, and his nerve endings had become quite sensitive.
“A bit too much for me, Gullin,” replied Tyler hoarsely. His throat was parched. “Your kin?”
“One or two will show up, don’t worry. We also have our concerns. But you look like a battered jotunn, Archmage. I can’t help you unless you’re part draken. Let me call Thyma instead,” said Gullin, her eyes swiftly assessing Tyler’s condition.
The Oracle arrived at a rush and lost no time looking over the mage. Her nimble fingers made quick, light touches to his head and exposed skin.
“Not good?” asked Tyler, trying to smile, but even that small effort made his facial muscles hurt.
“What in Adar’s name did you do to yourself?” reprimanded Thyma. “Kobu, give him some water. Slowly.”
The water passed through the mage’s dry mouth and into his parched throat, greatly relieving the discomfort. Then Thyma placed a finger on each temple. A wave of comforting warmth and revitalizing energy gave Tyler some of his strength back.
“Thanks,” he told Thyma as he unsteadily stood up.
“You need to rest,” the Oracle said simply before she turned and went back to inflicting casualties on the enemy.
Rest. Of course, I need to rest, thought the mage irritably. Now, if only we could get the enemy to understand that, all would be well.
“They’re here,” said Gullin. “At least those with usable wings.”
The draken’s dismissive tone spoke volumes about how the ancient houses perceived the rogue clans. It was also a tone tinged with disgust, leading the mage to wonder if there was more to the draconic schism than merely devolutionary considerations. Civilized and barbaric cultures among humans could and did co-exist peacefully. But the way Gullin acted, it looked like there had never been a similar period in their history.
The mage wanted to cast a quick scrying spell due to what Gullin said, but his guides warned him of the paucity of his reserves. Apparently, Sutr was still siphoning off a large chunk of the magical energy of the area.
“Sire, should you get to the rear?” Tyler heard Kobu suggest. “If you’re still recovering, then you are in no condition to fight drakens.”
“No, Kobu. We’ll stay here. I also want to see how the battle develops,” said Tyler. He knew Kobu was right, and it was but his obstinate streak talking.
The mage could see Gullin already some distance away, getting ready to fight. The companions, in turn, took the cue and stood prepared to receive their fiery guests. The most Tyler could do was to stretch his existing shields, except for the barrier provided by his staff, to cover their front. Thankfully, the energy for the magical shields provided by X and Hal was reserved and not expended in the massive spell.
Tyler saw the einherjar give a hand signal to Kobu, and the exile moved to exchange places with Habrok. A quick explanation by Kobu revealed the warriors with teleport ability would act as the front liners. The mage would have Habrok and Thyma, and Astrid would assist the two melee fighters if needed.
Without warning, a powerful magical lance sprouted into existence in Gullin’s hand and was just as swiftly thrown. A loud growl of pain burst through the air, and through the mist came a huge, winged red draken with reddish-black fluid spraying from a giant hole in its body. The dying creature crashed into their rear, its massive wings brushing against the mage’s shields. From what Tyler saw, it was smaller than what he expected. Excluding the wings, it had roughly the body mass of a large bull elephant. But it still dwarfed anything on the battlefield.
A blast of flame struck their shield, the fire curling up as it hit the barrier. Out of the mist, another dragon landed with a ground-shaking impact. It curled its wings back. But before any of the companions could act, several dwarven warriors beat them into the attack. Large spears struck the red and yellow scales, and battleaxes aimed at its hind legs. The dwarves were apparently stationed just below the clearing and had taken cover when Gullin started her attack. The new arrival missed them in its hurry to get at the mage.
The draken roared its anger and its spiked tail swept across the dwarves attacking from the rear. As bodies flew through the air, its huge mouth distended, revealing yellowish, serrated teeth. The massive head turned to the side and snapped at the other dwarven warriors. Tyler looked open-mouthed at the outrageous scene. The dwarves had attacked without hesitation and were not at all intimidated by the kind of monster they were facing.
Several dwarves died instantly, and the few who remained kept on attacking, even as the steel spearheads slid across the thick scales. The attackers were as boneheaded and stubborn as their leaders. It was mindless battle ferocity at its finest.
At that moment, the mage realized why humans and elves didn’t take dwarven warriors for granted despite being a lot smaller than other humanoid races. Doughty would be an understatement to describe the single-minded focus of the dwarves to attack and keep on attacking. The hardness of the dragon’s scales didn’t seem to deter them, though it appeared those with battleaxes had more luck with their weapons. The dragon’s right hind leg was bleeding.
Kobu and Tyndur suddenly appeared in the air on top of the draken, right above its turned and exposed throat. The flaming battleaxe of the einherjar struck at the neck, while Kobu’s naginata dug deep into its exposed eye. Unlike the dwarven spears and battleaxes, the powerful magic of the pair’s weapons easily pushed past whatever magical or physical obstacle was posed by the scales. After the attacks, the two appeared once more below the draken’s body, one each to the area where the wings joined the scaly and hulking mass. Another series of critical strikes and the duo returned to the companions.
The huge creature screamed with pain, and it was apparent to everybody that it was finished. Even the surviving dwarves quickly fled the area around the monster. Death spasms of dragons were infamous in taking their attacke
rs to the grave.
As the draken’s head turned to the front one last time, a spurt of flames erupted out of its mouth, only to be blocked by the emergence of a thick wall of vines. A loud crashing sound followed. When Thyma removed her spell, another rogue draken lay dead.
Fuck. That was quick, realized the mage. The entire battle had taken only a few minutes. He looked at where Gullin was and found the two other flying draken broken and bleeding on the ground. Beside Gullin were two unfamiliar faces, a male with a halberd and another female. He looked at Thyma.
“Are those… “Tyler asked.
“Yes, Archmage. That’s quite obvious, isn’t it?” laughed the Oracle.
“Another stupid question. My apologies. But I wonder why Gullin and the other female disdain weapons, while the male is holding one?” the mage asked.
“Don’t you know? The female of the race is more powerful than the one with dangling bits,” replied Thyma with a snigger.
A rogue draken
Tyler turned his attention to the ongoing battle below them. The din was incredible. Dwarven battle cries mingled with growls and roars of the attacking jotnar. The defenders appeared to be holding their ground despite being pushed back around fifty feet from their original position. The trail of bodies from their former defensive line down to their current one marked how bloody the struggle was, and how dear a price the jotnar were paying for that meager distance.
Several hundred feet away, to the rear of the fighting, lay the body of a land-bound draken, skewered in places by large ballista arrows. The last remaining draken was among the dwarves, surrounded by armored figures and sealed off from the rest of the jotnar hordes by yet another shield wall.
The rogues don’t have much magical knowledge, thought the mage. Aside from their flames and probably some innate magical protection, they act more like ordinary monsters. Could it be that simple? Or are these but young ones, still undeveloped in their abilities? Gullin did expect more of them. Fuck it. I am not going to underestimate a foe again.
The Accidental Archmage: Book Seven (Dragons and Demons) Page 27