The Accidental Archmage: Book Eight (Where Titans Walk)

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  Tyler heaved a heavy sigh. Kapnos and Asag did share a common trait – an amazing immaturity and a startling disconnect with the nuances around them. In the meantime, the pair of Habrok and Kobu walked to them. They were ready. Yet the mage still felt unease at letting Asag loose, even at such a degraded level of power.

  “Kobu, kindly watch over our new mage. I wouldn’t want him to be too excited and forget the details of our plan,” said Tyler. He knew he was gaming the system but nonetheless wasn’t confident it would work. Tyler prayed it would.

  Asag looked at the exile with a condescending smile. The exile stared back with a stern expression.

  “Watch yourself, Asag. I’ve fought demons like you,” warned Kobu. “We’ve tried each other out before, but that was a mere friendly match.”

  “As great as me?” replied the rocky deity with a raised eyebrow.

  The exile slowly nodded, though Tyler was unsettled by the revelation. Kobu was mortal, as far as the mage knew, and here he was, calmly declaring he had taken on demons of Asag’s caliber in life-or-death struggles. And won.

  “Alright, that’s enough,” said the mage, though his mind was already wondering what other abilities the exile had, the ones he had not so far shown. As a warmaster, the exile would certainly keep several cards close to his chest. If Kobu confessed that he had already disposed of deities back in the land of Wa, the mage wouldn’t be surprised.

  “It’s still a long way to the defenders’ ranks. To get you there, I plan to cloak us and use my ability to teleport short distances. I estimate two such jumps. I won’t show myself and we’ll let Kobu be your leader in this venture,” laid out the mage hurriedly. “The main objective is to blunt the attack and break their morale. Remember, they’ll also have mages in their ranks.”

  “Too risky to involve yourself, Archmage. Even in such a manner. You’d still step on the battlefield,” said a surprisingly cheery voice. At the same time, a cool breeze wafted through the clearing.

  ***

  Every member of the company immediately spun in the direction of the speaker, weapons and spells at the ready. What greeted their eyes was a smiling, chubby man of average height, bald with intricate tattoos on his pate, and mysteriously emanating good-natured amusement. The visitor wore a robe of Kemet, and his fingers were festooned with golden rings inlaid with precious stones. To lay to rest any doubt as to his origin, he had a broad golden wesekh, or a type of neck ornament evidencing social status. An ivory staff in his right hand completed his attire and indicated his profession, that is, if the intricate symbols on his head didn’t give it away.

  The stranger stared at the unsheathed weapons and the gathered masses of raw magical energy ready to be unleashed. His smile became a wide grin, and he gave a deep bow. Surprised as he was by the lack of concern shown by the intruder about the deadly welcome ready to be rained on him, Tyler was more astonished at the lack of warning which presaged the man’s arrival. Even deities give some magical indication of their impending appearance. Now that he had encountered the fellow, Tyler began to doubt if the surge of power that signified a deity’s arrival was more of grandstanding. Or it could be an innate restriction on their nature. That would mean the fellow before him was human. Or was once human. The mage could see the background greenery through the newcomer.

  “I do apologize for the sudden arrival. I am Se-Osiris of Kemet. Not the god. And again, I beg the forgiveness of Lord Osiris for your presumption. He’s more handsome,” said the newcomer with obvious amusement.

  Tyler closely looked at the visitor and saw no taint of corruption. In fact, the aura he could observe was golden with streaks of blue. But the figure was neither here nor there. The shape was too solid to be pure phantasm, yet it had a vagueness that meant it wasn’t alive either. The mage was trying to think of what to say when Thyma walked forward and stood beside him.

  “It is an honor to meet the greatest mage of Kemet. Anubis gave you leave to stay on this plane?” asked the Oracle formally. At the query, the mage breathed a sigh of relief. If he thought he lacked a loremaster due to the absence of Asem, the Oracle appeared to have a similar ability and level of knowledge.

  “Indeed, he did,” replied the beaming Se-Osiris. “I am happy and enormously relieved that somebody recognized me or remembered my name and status. Those weapons and spells really don’t say welcome or hello. It has been a long time, after all. Leave had been given to find and bring back escapees from his domain, particularly the black-souled Son of Tnahsit.”

  “Then why are you here?” asked Tyler. Thyma’s intervention reassured him though he found it annoying to have deities and spirits parading through the small clearing, all asking for his time and attention, just when an ongoing battle demanded concentration and preparation.

  “Somebody told Lord Thaut that he was worried about a young mage making another mistake which could lead to bigger, or let’s accept it, massive, complications. That deity said he could feel it in his bones. It was a worrying enough comment for the god Thaut to send me here. Anyway, that Son of Tnahsit still hasn’t shown his ugly face, and I have already sent many runaways back to Duat,” said Se-Osiris cheerfully, as if everything was fine and there’s nothing wrong in the world.

  A nanny. Odin sicced a nanny on me, realized Tyler to his horror.

  Chapter Twelve

  A Dead Mage of Kemet

  “You’re my watchdog?” inquired Tyler loudly, greatly insulted.

  The penchant of deities to involve themselves in his affairs based on a perceived noticeable lack of confidence to control himself was exasperating. True, there might be some basis for the precaution, but still, it was rude. As the mage thought about it, reminders of explosive and near-death experimentations rolled their unsolicited way to the forefront of his mind. It was a scandalous infomercial about his numerous disastrous attempts at magic.

  “Well, don’t take it out on me, Archmage, and that term is such an ugly word. I don’t like this more than you do. I was enjoying a calm and peaceful afterlife. But here I am, chasing after enemies long-thought gone and making sure one mortal mage – though important, they say – does not give in to impulsive tendencies and emotional decisions,” protested Se-Osiris, his puffy cheeks turning red.

  “What exactly are you supposed to do while you’re here?” asked Thyma as she stepped in. Tyler was calming down, but he welcomed the timely intervention.

  “Making sure our Archmage does not involve himself in the battle. The war at large has already embroiled pantheons and they don’t need the distraction of another perceived threat. You do know that, demigoddess,” replied Se-Osiris emphatically.

  “Then how am I supposed to send these three volunteers to the jarls?” asked an indignant Tyler, exasperated again.

  “I’ll take care of it, though I suggest a location near that gap in the defending circle. Not too far, yet not too near to be within a twitchy archer’s range,” replied the grinning ghost. “It’s not direct involvement on my part and saves us the complication.”

  “Not direct involvement?” grinned the mortal mage meaningfully.

  “Let me bother about such quibbles,” said the apparition. “Instead, just sit and watch instead.”

  “How come you can do it and not me?” objected Tyler.

  “I’m not the Archmage, you are,” laughed Se-Osiris again.

  ***

  The grumbling mortal mage let Eira lead him to the edge of the bluff. As he sat down, Tyler glanced back. The rotund ghost was already calling to the trio. An apprehensive frame of mind took over his irritation as he wondered how Se-Osiris would react to the disguised demon. Apparently, the ghostly mage wasn’t bothered about it. However, Tyler could see him trying not to laugh out loud at the appearance of Asag. If the rock deity noticed, he apparently didn’t care. The masquerading demon’s attention was on the battlefield. For some reason, Tyler was bothered by the expectant grin on Asag’s face. Yet the magical skills of Se-Osiris astounded Tyler. The app
arition merely raised both arms and then waved downward, fashioning an imaginary circle in the air which encompassed the trio. The companions blinked out of their location. The mortal mage immediately glanced at the field and saw the three appear some distance from the rear of the schiltron.

  Crapshit! No showy display? No bells and whistles? thought the amazed Tyler. It was a far more impressive display than any similar spell cast by deities he had encountered. Flabbergasted, he waited as the ghost made his way to them.

  “Any chance of mentoring me while you’re here?” asked Tyler, unable to control himself when the phantasm sat down beside him.

  At the query, Se-Osiris appraised him for several seconds. The ordinarily cheery face was serious, and Tyler saw the real face of Se-Osiris the mage. The eyes presented a lifetime of wisdom painfully earned, yet it bore a hint of pity.

  “Ah, I wish that were possible. I’ve heard you lack some of the finer skills and advanced knowledge required for a mage of your rank. I am not judging you. Far from it. Whisper abound that your power eclipses many a deity. You face a daunting future, Archmage. But skills such as mine were learned and polished throughout my life. You don’t have that luxury of time. Yet remember this. Each mage makes his own path of magical learning. True, the way might be littered with maimed limbs, bloody eyeballs, and lost souls. But the basics are the same. What makes a mortal’s magical skills unique and different from other individuals is the experience and lessons he or she gains while on this plane. Again, I reiterate – no mage is the same,” replied Se-Osiris somberly.

  “You still haven’t answered my request. It wasn’t a direct yes or no,” remarked Tyler pointedly. He did notice that the phantasm blinked several times at a certain point during the silence. But if Se-Osiris saw or observed something, he kept it to himself.

  “You noticed that, didn’t you?” laughed the ghost. “No, I can’t. My lord Thaut was very clear on that. Evidently, he expected you to request such a favor. Tempting fate, he told me when I asked the very same question that’s on your mind. You tread a high and different path, Archmage. My apologies.”

  The mortal mage turned back to watching the approach of the trio. Some horsemen had left their formation and had gone to meet them. Tyler wasn’t worried about any hostile action. The companions could handle themselves. The worse that could happen was a few dead horsemen and the jarls would come out to resolve matters. In the aftermath, the dead would be forgotten as an unfortunate accident. Tyler suddenly stopped in his musing. He knew his casual dismissal of the possible deadly result of a misunderstanding was uncharacteristic of what he usually would think. It was but a probable outcome, yet the mage wondered why such a callous conclusion came before any thought of hoping that no problem would occur. It was unsettling, and he looked at the apparition beside him to divert himself from such considerations.

  “Was it difficult to be a mage during your time?” he asked. The skill exhibited by Se-Osiris blew his mind.

  “I was born with abnormally abundant reserves. Magic came naturally to me. But I guess having the royal court mage as a father helped. At the age of six, I was casting spells. Burned down part of a temple and the public market with my first fireball. Good thing my family was high royalty, otherwise I would have been flayed on the spot,” chuckled the specter.

  “At least you had years to master your skills. Me? I just started and immediately had this enormous rock around my neck,” commented Tyler glumly.

  “I know. I hear rumors and gossip. Gods sometimes talk too much. But not even for a deitihood would I assume your mantle. In short, you’re a blind, overburdened camel tasked to find an oasis in the middle of a great desert. It sucks, but that’s fate,” laughed the ghost again.

  To his relief, Tyler saw no untoward incident when the mounted warriors reached the trio. The group had started moving to the schiltron. All that remained now was to wait. The mortal mage glanced at the visitor again and asked about the ability of deities to freeze time, at least in their immediate surroundings. Tyler had been at the receiving end of such visitations lately and wondered about it. It was a handicap he had to prepare for if any antagonistic deity got close enough to trap him in such a bubble.

  “Deities and magical beings are part of the raw energy of the world. It’s a learned skill for those powerful among them – a mark of their higher ability to manipulate such a natural resource. Mortal mages could learn to do the spell. Still, it’s more difficult and costs more in terms of a person’s magical resources—a rare ability for mortals. The required magical energy alone is considerable. Compare it to learning to swim. Such understanding comes naturally to a fish that lives in water,” replied Se-Osiris casually.

  “You could do it, I guess?” concluded Tyler.

  Se-Osiris merely grinned.

  ***

  No help there, thought Tyler as he returned his attention to the battlefield.

  The trio had already reached the ranks of the defenders, passing through the gap at the rear of the schiltron and escorted by a new set of warriors. It would take some time for matters to be sorted out and for Kobu to assess the situation on the field. The mage expected the rebel chiefs, headed by the Jarl of Hedmark, to give way to the exile in directing the battle. Jarl Geir had seen Kobu in action and the mage expected the same arrangement would be adopted by the chieftain.

  More warbands were assaulting the defenses, but from his vantage point, it was apparent to Tyler that they were still probing attacks. The mage noticed that the attackers continued to keep to the middle and the right flank of the schiltron. The left remained untouched, yet he could observe that the rear arrangement of the High King’s army had shifted. It wasn’t visible to the defenders, but numerous companies had moved to the right flank of the attackers, the one facing the contingent from Ravndal.

  “It appears that the full weight of the attack will fall on the left flank of the defense,” commented Astrid, who crouched beside the two mages.

  Tyler was surprised to see the Oracle and Astrid both watching the battle. He had expected one of the pair to be on guard duty. Seeing his expression, Thyma merely smiled and assured him that they won’t be surprised anymore. She had seen to that preparation. It was a statement stated with a pointed look at their visitor. Se-Osiris merely chuckled at the Oracle’s sharp look and again gave an apologetic bow.

  “I again apologize, demigoddess. Unfortunately, mortal spirits, even those of mages, are bereft of the impressive display that deities normally show when making an appearance. They’re magic while we’re not, even when dead. But I wouldn’t have it any other way,” grinned the spirit mage.

  “Why is that?” asked Tyler.

  “Mortals have some idea of the afterlife. They don’t have that grace. But I recommend not believing all the stories. Like that of the goddess Ammit swallowing the souls of those who fail the test of the feather of Maat in the Halls of the same name. If that were true, then she’d be way behind her task given the number who die every day in Kemet. She wouldn’t have time for anything else, especially in times of war such as the present. Judgment is made according to what a soul really knows. My lord Osiris merely rules over the process. The Norse and the Greeks have different traditions, but the principle remains the same. The soul already knows the sins and good deeds of an individual. It’s indelibly marked upon the ethereal fabric that composed it. But that little truism has never failed to deter mages of all persuasions from trying to change what has been written,” explained Se-Osiris at length.

  “What’s the afterlife in Kemet?” inquired the mortal mage. He had to admit his interest was piqued. Principally because of the fact that the company would find itself in that land soon. A visit to Asem was the least they could do for her. So far, only Astrid had been there.

  “Ah, the Field of Reeds. Sekhet-Aaru. Where one finds peace. But don’t ask me to go into details. It’s not allowed. Let those now living continue to imagine it as a beautiful natural paradise, filled with natural wonders. A
reflection of an idealized Kemet, I believe,” replied the phantasm. Then the attention of Tyler was called by a sudden report from the Valkyrie.

  “New arrivals, sire. From the direction of Sigtuna,” announced Astrid. The mage gazed at the horizon. He could see dust clouds—quite a number of them.

  ***

  The hillside audience noticed a large number of riders peel off from the flanks of High King’s forces, heading towards the new arrivals. Scouts, observed the mage. The defenders didn’t send their cavalry to check. They’d just be wiped out by the two flanking waves of mounted warriors doing the scouting. Tyler wondered about the newcomers. If they were reinforcements, then it must be a substantial force and traveling in haste, judging from the dust they kicked up. But the distance was still too far, even for his enhanced eyesight. Still, it was apparent they were an armed host. The many banners the mage could glimpse gave that away.

  “What do you think?” Tyler asked the companions. He didn’t consider asking Se-Osiris. Given the limitations imposed on him, the ghostly watchdog wouldn’t tell him even if it wanted to. It was Thyma who answered.