“We’ll be there,” answered the mage. Aage then did the introductions. Tyler thought the jarl had the right idea about weighty matters being discussed in such an informal atmosphere. It freed up one’s balls from the rigid and castrating rules of protocol.
“I have already given instructions to my chief lieutenant that the defense will be handled by you,” said the jarl. “His name is Skarde. He’s doing the rounds now, telling the various drottin about the new development.”
The jarl paused, obviously waiting for the servants to leave the room. As soon as the room was closed, he sat back and looked at Tyler.
“Scarburg. One of my drott went there as Hedmark’s contribution. But what my drottindrottin reported to me when they returned was puzzling. What attacked Scarburg was a lot less than what their scouts initially reported. There were reports of large boulders from the mountainsides smashing enemy ranks, killing and injuring many. Dokkalfr reaching the walls in disorganized groups. Few enemy mages were in attendance. Their siege machines were devastated the night before the final assault. It was said that a great wave of destruction swept through the enemy’s camp, explosions and discharge of massive magical energies, according to the war-mage of Scarburg,” said the jarl. He paused, looked at Tyler, and then continued.
“So great was the magic involved, that he refused to go out and investigate. Of course, credit went to the gods. But even I know they rarely involve themselves in such battles. Especially when it involves Ymir’s legions. The risk of Ymir himself coming forth if those of Asgard appeared on the battlefield was too great. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Tyler just smiled.
“Then reports of a battle near the city of Akrotiri in Hellas. A great mage fought Ares to a standstill and drove off or killed his minotaur lieutenant. A broken siege, the Dorians defeated, and now I hear of a new Greek deity of war. Ares’s son, apparently. You don’t think you could also tell me about that?” resumed the jarl.
Still smiling, the mage shook his head.
“I thought so. I make it my business to know what I can, High Mage, especially in the matter of defending Hedmark. The Allfather might have his reasons, but I would also like to hedge my bets. Now I find myself betting my entire realm on a single throw of the dice in this deadly game of Mia we play against the undead. You have my blessing, High Mage. I am at your command. What do you wish us to do now?” concluded the man.
“I thank you for your trust, jarl. Matters of warfare are better left to experienced hands. The defense preparations I leave to Kobu, with the assistance of Habrok and Tyndur. How many mages do you have?” asked Tyler.
“Around ten as of today. I don’t know if more would be arriving. But a moment, High Mage. Something about Tyndur makes me curious. I sense something different about him,” said the jarl as he stared at the einherjar.
This jarl is sensitive to magical matters. He must have some innate though undiscovered ability. But I can’t have him following Tyndur around trying to determine what the man is, thought Tyler. Then he quickly decided to get it out in the open so the jarl could focus on what he should be doing.
“He’s an einherjar, Jarl Geir. A peculiar one. Gave Odin constipation during his stay in Valhaĺla. So, he got sent down to assist me,” answered the mage.
“An einherjar! I never thought I’d see one in the flesh. Tell me, Tyndur, is it everything the tales say?” asked the jarl eagerly.
“Quite overrated, but more or less close to what the skalds sing. Which reminds me, are there any skalds about by any chance?” Tyndur asked the jarl.
“I believe there are a few who insisted on remaining in town, demanding the right to stay and get stories from the coming struggle. New material, that’s how they described it. They better hope their new material doesn’t bite or slash them to bloody pieces. They’re billeted in the Ogre’s Head Inn,” said the Jarl.
“Good! My thanks, Jarl Geir. I intend to visit them when I have time,” beamed the einherjar.
Now, what is this guy up to again? But the mage thought it better not to ask. Inquiring about a man’s private business would be intrusive and disrespectful. Knowing the einherjar, the warrior would tell them himself when he was ready. It was not as if it was only the einherjar keeping secrets.
“Then it’s settled. The three companions will prepare the men and oversee the outer defenses. I get to discuss matters with your mages,” remarked Tyler.
“And how about me?” asked the jarl, his voice rising.
Damn it. I should have started with him, thought Tyler. Pride and all that shit.
“There is a second line of defense. I was going to suggest you oversee its construction. Prepare for attacks from within. Is the town’s cemetery inside or outside the fort?”
“About two miles from the east entrance,” said the jarl.
“Then there could be an assault from that direction and a high possibility of some revenants within the town itself. The second defense ring, the internal defense of the town, and the East Gate I leave to you.”
“That’s a relief. The way people had been acting around me lately, one would think they’re taking care of a child,” commented the jarl.
Oh, the extra precautions of his men to protect him, remembered the mage.
They heard somebody knock on the door. A large man walked in, a bow strapped to his back. Mostly clad in leather armor, it appeared the warrior was a scout, a ranger like Habrok.
“My jarl. Reports have come in and I believe they’re significant enough to warrant your attention.”
“Take a seat, Hendrik,” the jarl ordered. Then he looked at the party. “My head forester, Hendrik. Hendrik, meet our guests – Habrok, Tyndur, Kobu, and His Excellency, the High Mage, Havard of Fossegrim. How exactly does one address a High Mage?”
“High Mage would be enough, Jarl Geir. I am not cantankerous enough,” grinned Tyler.
The man nodded respectfully to the members of the party and turned to the jarl.
“Scouts report two large formations. One near the Barrens and the other about thirty miles from us. They’re not doing anything at the moment, but it looked like they were gathering their strength, waiting for more undead to join them.”
“Numbers?” asked the jarl.
“Too vast to count. The entire valley is full of them. Not only caricatures of men, but also other creatures and races. Scouts trying to observe the force near the Barrens had to leave in a hurry. Too little cover in that part of the region. But they say it’s a bigger force.”
“It might be Valhalla for all of us after all,” remarked the jarl.
“There’s something else, jarl. My men witnessed tattered banners being carried by the dead. They appear to be the flags of your ancestors, though desecrated with large runes marked in red paint.”
“What do the marks show?”
“They appeared to be insults to the gods, sire. And there’s more. The group in the Barrens seemed to be led by the founder of your line, Jarl Sigurd, and the second army nearer to us is led by the body of your eldest brother. The use of their personal battle flags leaves no doubt about their presence.”
Tyler saw the pale face of the jarl who was in shock, unable to say anything. The First Mage quickly spoke up.
“Your brother and ancestors are dead, jarl. Foul spirits now animate their bodies. Either that or their spirits have been enslaved and twisted by dark magic. The best way to save and honor them is to return them to the peace of the grave.”
The jarl released the breath caught in his throat.
“Good thing my father and other brother were sent off the traditional way – a funeral pyre. The body of our eldest brother was never recovered. As to the founder of our ruling line, lore mentioned he went missing with an army in a foolhardy attempt to clear the edges of the Barrens even before Hedmark was secured,” explained the jarl.
“We better warn the men, jarl,” said Tyndur. “No telling if some will have to face the rotting
bodies of their mothers in battle.”
“That… is a distinct possibility,” replied the jarl.
“Once they start moving, how long would it take the undead nearest to Hedmark to reach us?” asked Tyler.
“With no logistical train and no need to rest, around a day. They’ve got two roads to use,” replied the forester. “I’ve got men watching them, but if the group nearer to us starts to move, we have barely enough time to prepare.”
“How about the force near the Barrens?” Kobu asked.
“That’s quite the distance. That army would take around three days to get here at their fastest pace, and I am assuming a continuous march. The dead don’t need breaks,” answered the forester.
“Our own forces?” asked Tyler.
“Hedmark is the strongest region in Skaney, at least in the number of warriors. Even more than Hirdburg, the seat of the High King. In terms of numbers. That’s because of the wide area we have to protect. Scarburg is lucky. They’re just concerned with a gap blocked by a stone wall. Unfortunately, the nature of the blight compelled us to disperse our forces. Many of our warriors are now protecting the towns and large villages, others escorting evacuees to larger settlements. And we have already lost men amidst the reality of destroyed villages and hamlets, a situation leaving us with…”
The jarl looked at Hendrik.
“6,000 warriors led by the various chieftains, experienced and hardy men. Another 2,000 older men are warriors past their prime but could still swing an axe or sword. Then, there are another 1,000 freemen from the town and the surrounding areas, and an equivalent number of bondsmen. 10,000 all told,” said the man. “But the freemen and bondsmen are not as trained or well-armed as the others.”
“A paltry force,” said the jarl. “An equivalent number is now guarding the towns and villages of the region. We can’t expect reinforcements as the plague is everywhere. Before this calamitous event, Hedmark was the least affected among the strongholds of Skaney. Now, it has come to us with a vengeance, meaning we live or die here. There is nowhere else to run.”
Nowhere else to run. It’s beginning to sound like a refrain, thought Tyler. But couldn’t they just stop mentioning it? The reminder isn’t doing me any good.
“At least, nobody would be considering deserting,” commented Tyndur. “As the jarl said, the plague is everywhere. To reach a safe town would mean running a gauntlet of revenants roaming the countryside.”
Tyler let the discussion continue as he maintained his silence. Actual physical war was never his forte; he had Jorund to lean on in Scarburg and Akrotiri, Tyndur in the Inka kingdom. But this conflict was indeed a war of magic similar to the second part of the Akrotiri battle. His mind was busy trying to figure out the nuances of the spell. The mage had an idea, but it was based on untested assumptions and pain. A lot of pain.
“With your permission, High Mage, I’ll let your men go with Aage to make the rounds and meet Skarde.”
The jarl’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.
“Of course,” he replied, mind still partially absorbed in his musings. “I’ll just be around the jarl’s keep. Don’t worry, Kobu, a few undead wouldn’t be a bother. There are a few things I have to think about.”
“The meeting with the dwarves will be tonight after the night-meal. Aage will fetch you and your companions. Only the leaders of the two dwarven groups would be attending,” said the jarl.
“In the room, yes. But the hallway outside will be full of their warriors. I don’t know if they’ve already agreed on how many will come from each group. Otherwise, expect everybody,” advised the einherjar.
“I never thought dealing with dwarves would be so complicated,” complained the jarl.
“This situation was easy. It’s more convoluted if you’re the one leading a delegation to one of their courts. And don’t get me started on the food,” said Tyndur.
***
Covered by an invisibility field, made smaller to cover only his person, Tyler made his way out of the keep. Few people were in sight. The mage assumed most were near the fortifications. He was looking for an out-of-the-way park near the jarl’s house. Finally, he espied an acceptable location surrounded by several trees with the establishments around it locked and deserted.
Tyler stood in the small grove and extended the cloaking field. Then he focused an intense burst of magical energy into the ground. Once the power sank into the earth, he stopped its downward spiral and let it radiate outward. The effort was similar to a scrying spell, with two distinct differences – it was exerted below the ground, and it carried Rumpr’s name.
The mage stood there for a few minutes, waiting. Tyler knew he was but taking a chance that the being was within reach of his magical call.
“Not too loud next time, lad. Nearly deafened me. Didn’t anybody tell you magical vibrations pass faster through the ground?” A familiar voice came from the back.
“Sorry about that. First time I used energy that way. An experiment. I didn’t even know you were in Skaney, just took a chance. Could you handle the sound dampening? I haven’t learned that yet,” said Tyler as he turned and faced his friend.
“Oh, by Tyndur’s beard! Experiments! A First Mage who knows fantastic spells yet couldn’t handle a basic one, second nature to even journeyman mages!” crossly replied the being, though he did as Tyler requested.
“I am just curious, but where were you when my call arrived?”
“I was along the borders of the Great Tundra Waste, watching what Ymir was doing. Quite a show,” answered Rumpr.
“I know. Massing forces. Same with Sutr.”
“Hrun told me about it. A mighty storm is coming, lad, and I fear you’re going to bear the brunt of it,” said Rumpr unhappily. “I wish I could do more to help you, but my constraints still bind me.”
“I understand that, Rumpr. But I heard the fighting between the two had stopped. Any idea why they’re massing such forces?” The mage had to ask the inevitable question even though he knew the answer. He doubted if the avatar told her native elemental followers.
“Well, they’re all facing southward, and that’s a terrible sign for mortals and deities alike. I never thought I’d see the day those two giant buffoons would work together,” answered Rumpr.
“Any news of Loki? I also heard he was sent there by Odin to pacify matters,” remarked the mage.
Rumpr laughed. “Loki? I swear the old man must be getting senile.”
“Or overcompensating for the mistakes of the past,” commented Tyler.
The small elemental gazed closely at him for a while. Tyler stared back. He realized that he never had looked at Rumpr closely before when the being was in a serious mood. The being had differently-colored eyes. One was light brown and the other blue, and they reflected the wisdom and sadness of ages. It was like staring into a deep and calm pond, in which one could see the brutal march of mortals and other creatures throughout the millennia.
I never guessed the burdens Rumpr carried and kept hidden inside him. To see all that and yet be unable to do anything, thought the mage sadly.
“You know something I don’t, First Mage. I sense an immense tragedy. But it is your decision if you think it’s not the proper time to share the story. Ah, mortals and deities. Such a short time to live for the former and an unknown afterlife for the latter. You always fill your lives with tragedies. And I still can’t figure out why,” remarked Rumpr. “What a waste.”
“Anyway, let’s just hope old eye-patch didn’t make a grievous or even fatal error. That would be quite costly in more ways than one. But I have it on good authority that Loki is in southern climes now. Definitely not in the north,” continued the being.
“South. The new battleground,” said Tyler.
“You’ve heard of that too. A cousin, one of air, is keeping watch. It’s not going well for the allies of Kemet. Now, why the clarion call?” inquired the elemental finally.
“I wanted to know if you, with Gul
len and Dionysus, continued with your prank involving Sutr. I heard you discussing it at Fossegrim Forest.”
“Nah, we decided it was too dangerous. Not the prank, but the possible consequences. That jotunn had no sense of humor, and that, my friend, makes it very dangerous. He could have blindly retaliated against somebody or a kingdom instead. No telling where such a thing would lead,” replied Rumpr. “Though Gullen was disappointed. We thought of an equally challenging one.”
“What did you do?” asked Tyler, half-dreading the answer.
“Placed bells on each of the necks of Kerberos, the monster hound of Hades. One pink, one orange, and the third, red. The pink was mine. Hades threw a momentary fit when he saw the result. Then he laughed himself to bits. That god of the Greek underworld may appear dour and distant, but he knows how to laugh. I don’t know if he’ll remove the decorations soon. He’ll probably call his brothers and show it to them,” described Rumpr with a grin. “That would really be funny. Oh, and Gullen placed golden tassels with miniature bells on its tail.”
“Bearding Hades? That’s one for the books, Rumpr. Any other news?” grinned Tyler.
“Well, the dokkalfr are in a panic. Ymir broke off their alliance. And they’re right on the jotunn’s path. I believe some of their kin live on the mountains facing the land of fire. That means most of their strongholds would be under siege if those pair of elemental lords attack at the same time.”
“Serves them right,” replied Tyler, suddenly remembering the ambush outside Maljen and the dokkalfr assaulting Scarburg.
“They’ve lost a lot of warriors in that attempt to take Scarburg. They’re easy prey now for anyone who has the ability to enter and wage war in their domains. A damned bloodbath,” remarked Rumpr with an unhappy shake of his head. “I don’t like them but killing on such a scale is an appalling outrage!”
“Now Ymir wants to eat them up. As I mentioned, serves them right. I still remember what I went through. They nearly killed me during an ambush!” remarked Tyler.
The Accidental Archmage - Book Five Page 23