Tyler walked forward, clad only in tunic and pants, though he had the staff in hand.
“Who demanded the High Mage’s presence?” he coldly called out.
A bulky warrior standing in front of the shield wall stepped forward.
“Don’t tell me you’re him? Such a young, thin mage. Probably a seidr mage too. Where’s the High Mage?” demanded the warrior in a haughty shout.
“The High Mage is not of Skaney, nor of any realm in this world. The arrogance of your king will fail you. Be careful. Otherwise, Skaney will find itself without a ruler,” replied Tyler. He felt weird. Cold anger and hot fury alternated deep inside him.
“You’re making threats?” laughed the warrior, loudly. At the words, the vast number of onlookers quickly withdrew a good distance from the scene, a fact which didn’t escape the attention of the warriors in the shield wall. A good many were craning their heads around, curious as to the reason for the mystifying reaction.
Something rapidly boiled from within Tyler, a strength which only made its appearance when Astrid had lunged at Habrok a long time ago. It rose and hovered on the outskirts of his consciousness, waiting for the expression to give it form and substance.
“STUPID!” he shouted. As the word came out, the mage could see the transparent form of the energy accompanying it. The massive force slammed into the leader and his men, breaking wooden shields and flinging men a considerable distance away. Some flying bodies even reached and slammed into the inner earthworks. Clouds of dust covered the area. The sound of moaning and the cries of the injured came to the fore. The mage walked forward through broken armor and spears lying on the ground. The air cleared as Tyler advanced. Directly in front of him was the leader. The man was still conscious, though clearly suffering a broken leg. Seeing him, the warrior drew his sword.
The mage said nothing. Instead, using the levitation spell, he raised the warrior twenty feet up in the air, then released his hold on the conjuration. Then Tyler turned back to the keep, not waiting for the warrior to reach the ground. A loud crash sounded behind him. As he neared the keep, he saw the jarl, the two dwarven chieftains, and his companions waiting for him. The ruler of Hedmark was wearing a wry smile.
“Remind me not to get on your bad side early in the morning,” commented the jarl.
“I almost didn’t get any sleep preparing for the inevitable onslaught. My body hurts like hell, and a bad headache said good morning to me. And I am not even referring to these clowns,” replied Tyler crossly.
“But I am deeply thankful you decided to stay and fight with us,” replied the jarl. “After the events of last night, your mere presence encourages the men. Hirdburg is far from here, and I doubt if our plight has gained the High King’s sympathy.”
“Well, High Mage, that was a good laugh with which to grace one’s morning,” said Otr. “After Hedmark, I was wondering if you would be so kind as to visit our kingdom. There is a part of our realm no mortal could enter. It’s a dark place, but rich in what we seek. Normally, we wouldn’t worry and leave it be, but our watchers have reported that the area is growing. About 500 feet a year. We fear the longer we wait and the greater its area, whatever lived in that noisome place becomes stronger. If you have the time, of course.”
“Don’t say anything, High Mage!” exclaimed Dvalin. “Let me negotiate terms for you. The dvergar are tricky.”
“And I suppose your kind isn’t?” replied Otr with a snort.
Any further acrimonious business discussion was suddenly interrupted by the abrupt arrival of a ball of glowing light a few feet away. As the orb spun through the air toward Tyler, it left an incandescent stream of sparks in the air, visible even in the bright morning sun. It stopped in front of the mage.
“Lord First Mage. I am the Valkyrie Gunnhildr. The god Freyr bid me to inform you that the army in the Barrens is now pursuing them in the direction of Ymir’s Domain. However, the army near Hedmark has started moving toward the town.”
Then the glowing sphere disappeared. Tyler waited for the stupefied jarl and the two dwarves to recover. Dvalin was the first to speak.
“First Mage? A Valkyrie messenger? The God Freyr?” Luckily, the questions were spoken in a low, almost reverential tone, limiting the people who heard them only to those gathered around the mage.
“I trust you will keep what you witnessed to yourselves,” requested the mage. Then Tyler glanced back at the scattered and injured warriors of the High King’s warband and looked at the jarl.
“Kindly see them on their way back. Tell the High King he doesn’t want me angry, and I am halfway there.”
The jarl meaningfully looked at where the leader of the company fell to the ground.
“If he’s dead, the world is one less doltish warrior. If alive, then let that be a lesson in humility,” said Tyler, not even glancing where the jarl stared.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A Strange War
Then Sif came forward and poured mead for Loki in a crystal cup, and said:
53. “Hail to thee, Loki, | and take thou here
The crystal cup of old mead;
For me at least, | alone of the gods,
Blameless thou knowest to be.”
He took the horn, and drank therefrom:
54. “Alone thou wert | if truly thou wouldst
All men so shyly shun;
But one do I know | full well, methinks,
Who had thee from Hlorrithi’s arms,–
(Loki the crafty in lies.)”
Beyla spake:
55. “The mountains shake, | and surely I think
From his home comes Hlorrithi now;
He will silence the man | who is slandering here
Together both gods and men.”
Loki spake:
56. “Be silent, Beyla! | thou art Byggvir’s wife,
And deep art thou steeped in sin;
A greater shame | to the gods came ne’er,
Befouled thou art with thy filth.”
Morning tantrum over, the mage went back inside the keep, determined to grab some sleep. Meeting Aage, he requested food be brought to his room. As Tyler walked back with Kobu following, he was surprised at the way people along the corridors reacted to seeing him. Those who couldn’t avoid him hurriedly pressed themselves against the walls, others who saw him coming ran away, and some quickly ducked into open rooms along the hallway. The mage stopped and asked Kobu about the strange, though comical, scene unfolding along the corridor. That was when the man told him about his stormy exit from the keep.
Mystified, Tyler continued and took the time to ask his guides.
“You heard? What’s with the gray aura with red streaks?” he inquired.
“You’re nearly an Adept, sire. An Elder Mage-Adept. At that level, your negative emotions start to manifest themselves unless you keep them in check. The phenomenon does occur at times at lower ranks, but at the adept level, they become a regular occurrence,” Hal explained hurriedly. “It must have happened after the conversion exercises.”
“Exercises. You make it sound like a morning walk, Hal.”
“Oh. You’d rather hear the alternative?” smugly replied the guide.
“On second thought, let’s consider it an exercise,” said Tyler. “No sense being reminded of the details. Is being a Mage-Adept responsible for what I felt back there? Cold and detached anger mixed with hot, boiling fury. A weird sensation – fire and ice.”
“It is, sire. It’s a way of your magical power giving you the option of which emotion would be given free rein. But do note what we said – nearly an Elder Mage-Adept,” clarified X. “Nearly there, but not quite.”
“Anger expressed in an impersonal manner, I can understand. What are the consequences of hot fury as a driving emotion for my actions?” asked the mage, knowing he was learning something crucial, one which meant a world of difference between merely destroying his enemies or getting his companions killed as collateral damage.
; “The latter is analogous to being in a berserk state of mind. Very dangerous. We might be able to mitigate some of the damage, but can’t even guarantee that,” said X.
“Simply put, you’ll probably end up destroying everything in sight. Or try to destroy everything in sight. Either way, it’s not going to be pretty,” added Hal. “That’s why we said you’re ‘nearly’ at the adept stage. You still lack control, a prerequisite for entering the first adept stage.”
“Remind me if I ever get to be dangerously close to such a mindset, will you?” said Tyler. “But for now, I need to sleep. I feel lightheaded, and I know that’s a sign of sleep deprivation. I’ll eat when I wake. Wait. First adept stage? How many stages are there?”
“Three,” replied X.
***
For the second time that morning, Tyler found himself being woken again. But at least he’d had an hour or two of sleep, judging from his more relaxed reaction when Kobu roused him.
Damn. Who the fuck is it this time?
“Who is it now, Kobu?”
“Your friend with the damned soul, sire. He says he’s just a messenger.”
Damned soul, damned soul. Most of them would have one, if you ask me, he mused.
“I can’t recall the person, Kobu.”
“The man who visited you in Wilan’s domain, at the old temple. You did say he was a damned son of a bitch.”
Lumeri!
“Ah, Lumeri. He’s a friend. Of sorts. Show him in,” said Tyler, eyeing the food laid out on the table. His stomach was grumbling.
Kobu went out and came back quickly, Lumeri in tow.
“Ah, good morning, Havard. Should I call you First Mage, or is it still High Mage? It’s confusing right now. It appears more mortals know of your status,” greeted the scribe.
“I would prefer High Mage, Lumeri. Come, eat with me,” said the mage, before he remembered the man’s curse. “Oh, I sincerely apologize, my friend. I forgot your… unique condition.”
“Oh, don’t mind it, High Mage. It’s refreshing to be treated as an ordinary mortal. I actually would prefer that, but I find my time to be occupied with deities, powerful entities, dark beings. All with stories to tell. All refusing to admit they’re frightened they won’t be remembered. You know, the usual,” answered Lumeri in a dismissive tone, punctuated by a wave of his hand.
“You don’t mind if I eat? I haven’t had breakfast, but I don’t want to insult you,” asked the mage.
“Eat away. I can do what I came for as you’re attacking those mounds of food. I can’t stay long anyway. There’s a siege coming, and it’s prohibited for me to get involved,” said the scribe.
“I could use the army of guardians protecting you,” laughed Tyler.
“I guess you could,” smiled Lumeri. “But to business.”
“You don’t mind if Kobu’s around to hear it?” asked the eating mage.
“Not if you don’t. The message is for you, not for me.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“It comes from a defeated enemy. The sole but dying survivor of the Followers of Zin.”
Tyler nearly choked on his food at the extraordinary revelation.
“Go on,” he was finally able to blurt out. “I know at least one survived. That fellow on the other side of the portal when I was in an Aztecah temple.”
“She knows she’s dying. Actually, I could feel it when she surprisingly got hold of me. There’s no denying that fact. I didn’t even know the Followers knew I existed in this world. They did belong to a different congregation.”
She? Females are definitely deadlier on Adar.
“What does she have to say?” asked the intrigued Tyler, taking note of the different congregation comment. It meant the Scribe knew more than one group of rogue Elders. Yet the mage also accepted that it would futile to ask Lumeri for more information. Any knowledge would have to be freely given by the entity.
The immortal messenger didn’t reply directly to the question. He sat still for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, and then turned to the mage.
“The Followers were an intriguing group, each individual connected to the other members. Each can manifest the strength and knowledge of the others. The deaths of the rest doomed the last member of that ancient cult. She knows who eliminated them and wants revenge. And no, she doesn’t trust the deities of this world. She knows they’re but magical constructs born out of man’s imagination and fears. Doesn’t trust dark deities either. Those entities have their own agenda which differ from one to another. This dying entity wants to deal with the mortal mage who was able to defeat them. That battle showed her your ability and your willingness to risk yourself for a commitment.”
“What commitment? How could she know that?” replied the mage. Inwardly, he was surprised that Lumeri was allowed to give out that background on the Followers of Zin.
“Exactly my question too. She said you don’t look like you’re from the Inka or nearby kingdoms, and no sane mercenary mage would undertake a mission to the heart of the Aztecah empire. That led her to infer that your attack arose out of a human moral commitment. I didn’t tell her there could be other possibilities, that the human mind is more complicated than they believed,” said Lumeri.
“And she wants what?” asked Tyler, going directly to the issue.
“Revenge, as I said. And in return, knowledge and whatever power she has left. The transfer of energy would kill her, but she believes it’s a fair price to pay for a chance to get back at who eliminated them.”
“Did she tell you who was responsible?”
“A group of the same prehistoric race, though, as I mentioned, of a different church. A very powerful one. Worshippers of Cthulhu, she said. There are other cults, but she’s positive about this assumption.”
Another damned group of lost ones? Could they be the squids? Other cults?
“Why doesn’t she come herself?” asked the mage.
“Traveling is not an option for the dying. She’s also trying to husband all the energy she could spare for you, if you accept the proposal.”
“And where exactly is she now?”
“On Banna, the Forbidden Isle.”
Shit. Figures. Nothing’s ever easy.
***
Early afternoon found Tyler back at the platform atop the North Gate. The jarl had asked for his presence. Scouts had reported movement closer to Hedmark. Kobu, on his right side, was busy conferring with Skarde.
“Any specific details, Jarl Geir?” Tyler asked.
“Unfortunately, none. What we got was sent by a signal from the forward scouts, but the message was cut off. The scouts on the left side of the approach, the ones closest to the enemy, also have not reported. I am assuming the worst and have given the order for our remaining lookouts to withdraw from the vicinity of the enemy. They are to find heights where they could observe with safety.”
Tyler merely nodded. Matters of grand warfare again. He appreciated the briefing but didn’t really understand the principles behind the strategies. The mage walked forward and gazed at the fields beyond. A sliver of darkness could be seen on the far horizon, but that was all. Details could not be discerned; it was too far even for his enhanced eyesight. A scrying spell appeared to be a waste of magical energy. He knew the numbers of the enemy were beyond counting, and sending the spell would probably just frighten his balls off.
Lumeri had left a few hours before, leaving to him the decision of whether to accept the proposal of the dying Follower of Zin. The Scribe left with the mage a description of the general location of the remaining Follower, saying that Tyler’s presence would be known to her once he arrived near the specified location. Then Hal helpfully reminded him about G’s information that an Elder temple was on the island nearly the size of a continent. When he asked about the depiction of the location of the dying rogue Elder, X replied that it was meaningless. It could fit a lot of areas on the Banna. Tracking the Elder energy would be a more fruitful endeavor.
“If I know my brother, he’ll send probing attacks ahead of his army,” said the jarl.
Tyler glanced back.
“You do know he’s really not your brother anymore?” the mage asked.
“I know. But this undead version will be out for blood. Our pigs and chickens included,” laughed the jarl. “But I do remember his preference for night attacks. I guess it will be a long night for all of us.”
“Any report on any undead coming from the cemetery on the East Road?”
“None actually. Any sighting involved undead coming from the woods and the mountains. Not many.”
“I suspect the dead affected by the spell are those who died violently, either in battle or by accident. Those who died of disease and old age are not affected,” ventured Tyler.
“Then we can pull out men from the East Gate and transfer them here. With the dwarves’ help, we have blocked the Western and Southern Gates. The East Gate remains our exit point,” replied the jarl.
“Why not the South Gate?” the mage asked.
“Stenhus is too far. Barholm is nearer, even though it’s in the region of Voss. I have made arrangements with Jarl Leif. He’s a good friend. He even posted a substantial number of men midway between here and Barholm to serve as a blocking force in the event we are forced to withdraw.”
The Accidental Archmage - Book Five Page 29