The Accidental Archmage - Book Five

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  The eruption of light in the sky over the archers evidently also was the signal for the warriors of the main group to commence their assault. In utter silence, the undead warriors and various creatures rushed forward. Even in the absence of battle cries and war shouts, the movement of the immense formation had its own ominous and terrible noise.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Deadlord

  Loki spake:

  62. “Along time still | do I think to live,

  Though thou threatenest thus with thy hammer;

  Rough seemed the straps | of Skrymir’s wallet,

  When thy meat thou mightest not get,

  (And faint from hunger didst feel.)”

  Thor spake:

  63. “Unmanly one, cease, | or the mighty hammer,

  Mjollnir, shall close thy mouth;

  The slayer of Hrungnir | shall send thee to hell,

  And down to the gate of death.”

  The mage released several barrages of small sharp blades, cutting down numerous undead, but it barely made a dent in the seemingly inexhaustible wave.

  Loud battle screams greeted the attackers as they reached the walls. The mage could see most of the first wave were festooned with arrows. They had numerous crude ladders with them. Now that’s surprising, he observed. I thought they’d concentrate on forcing the gates.

  It appears arrows don’t do shit. But stones do, he continued to note as the defenders started throwing large rocks down at the climbing revenants. The archers on the walls had observed the ineffectiveness of their arrows and instead had taken their places near the piles of stones arrayed near the battlements. He glanced at Kobu. The man’s right hand was raised and looking down the length of the walls, protected by Tyler’s energy shield. Then he swiftly lowered his hand.

  Immediately, the numerous Wolf’s Teeth lined up along the battlements dropped as one, their weight and large sharp blades crushing the improvised ladders and skewering the undead caught under them, piercing bodies and skulls. The slamming sound of the deadly squares as they hit the ground was deafening, overcoming for an instant the din and cacophony of battle. The crew of the lethally effective defense apparatuses frantically winched them back. Spears and pikes removed wriggling ghouls caught in the iron teeth. It was a ghastly sight, and the mage didn’t doubt those being removed with uncrushed craniums would again try to climb back up. Tyler looked down and saw mounds of unmoving revenants already forming under the walls. The undead siege ramps had their grisly foundations.

  And this is but the advance party, he thought. I hope Thor doesn’t attract the attention of Bjarte. Otherwise, this plan is screwed. The undead blight would continue all across the northern realms. There’s no telling if its creator would be encouraged to revive more and more of the dead.

  His eyes could discern some far-away flashes.

  Well, I guess Thor has buckled down to work, the mage thought as he studied the incoming tide of enemies. Where the fuck is that Bjarte?

  Tyler noticed the undead attackers were concentrating their attack on three portions of the wall, all well away from the North Gate. Using large trunks of wood, attempts were also made to break through the barred iron doors, but they all failed. The front of the three main towers was already littered with roughly-shaped battering rams and twice-dead bodies. But it was clear to the mage that the assault on the gate was a diversion. His sight could see that most of the enemy were grouped around the wall portions they intend to overwhelm, though assaults on all sections of the wall were cleverly conducted to hide that plan. The night hid the layout of the enemy’s formations well.

  “Kobu,” he called out. “The assault is really directed against three sections.” The mage pointed them out.

  “Thank you, sire. But I could see the pressure beginning to tell on the men.”

  Tyler nodded. Darkness now worked against them, even as illumination spells were now flooding the ground beyond the walls in a haphazard fashion. If not for his warning, the warriors would have defended every section of the wall, stretching the defensive line. As he watched, several of the carts with knives were being wheeled into position near the sections to be contested.

  A final reserve if the line breaks, observed Tyler. I hope it doesn’t reach that point. Where the hell is that Bjarte? He gazed at the surging undead tide continuing to come in, wondering where the leader was.

  The mage was already considering asking Otr to try it. He focused on the still lit mangonel gauntlet area and released a series of cloud spells. Tyler avoided casting spells near the walls; the fighting was already hand-to-hand, and the mage wanted to avoid friendly casualties. They were already vastly outnumbered as it was. Suddenly, Habrok’s arrows flew by in quick succession, together with Tyndur’s thrown maul. From the corner of an eye, he saw the einherjar quickly pull out his flaming battleaxe and jump toward him. Kobu vanished, his weapon shifting to its kanabo form. Everything happened in an instant, yet it was a slow-moving eternity for the mage.

  As he moved his head to glimpse at what they were attacking, Tyler belatedly noticed a huge shadow had fallen on him, given form by the magical illumination in the distance and the skies around the fortress. A giant skeleton, covered with bony plates in places, loomed in the darkness, its long, elongated shape culminating in a now agape cluster of serrated fangs serving as its head. On top of the abominable horned excuse for a head was a standing figure, holding a massive ancient sword and a large tattered banner.

  Deadlord

  “WILAN!” the undead warrior thundered, his unnatural voice loudly echoing throughout the immediate area and cutting through the sound of battle.

  Tyler felt hands clutched around his waist, and his surroundings disappeared, replaced by a gray atmosphere. Just as suddenly, reality came flooding back in and he found himself beside the startled jarl. The mage realized it was Kobu who rescued him. The exile again vanished.

  The mage turned to the jarl.

  “Go! This is a battle of magic and magical weapons!”

  “How about you? I can’t just run away from that corrupted thing!” exclaimed the jarl. The mage could see his companions trying to fight the monster and its handler. Tyler knew it was Bjarte, though he couldn’t explain how the undead warlord approached without being seen.

  “Go, jarl! Even I can’t guarantee a victory against that abomination!” Tyler meant what he said. His mage eyes could see a green nimbus of power surrounded Bjarte. Kobu had materialized on top of the monstrous steed and was in combat with the warlord. The banner was planted somewhere among the horns of the creature. Finally heeding the mage’s words, the jarl immediately left, covered by his immediate retainers.

  “Little Geir! Don’t die yet! I have plans for you!” came a shout from Bjarte. He evidently saw the jarl moving to leave the parapet. The jarl glanced back at Tyler for a moment.

  “I hated that nickname!”

  Tyler turned his attention back to the ongoing battle. Bjarte’s sword was obviously magical too. The mage could see the angry sparks as it met Kobu’s weapon. The movements of the two warriors were supernaturally fast, leaving the duo surrounded by a cloud of green and gold flickers of magical energy. Tyndur and Habrok were concentrating on the giant skeletal worm.

  They can’t win this on their own, thought the mage as several small beams from his guides lashed out at the creature. To his shocked bewilderment, the energy streaks hit an unexpected invisible wall surrounding the gruesome beast, the only visible indication of the barrier’s existence being the ripples where the rays struck. The bony giant glanced at him and swiftly darted in the mage’s direction, its mouth terrifyingly agape, thin rivulets of a dark green mist streaming from the fangs.

  Tyler froze. The reality of a deadly collection of large, jagged fangs lunging at him had stunned his senses into immobility.

  What’s that freaking thing? was the all-consuming thought occupying his mind.

  A blazing wide shaft of light met the frontal of the bony monster. I
t broke through whatever energy shield protected the creature and cracked the skull like a fragile porcelain vase. The rest of its body rapidly disintegrated into numerous pieces, clinking on the stone floor of the parapet. Bjarte adroitly somersaulted off the disintegrating creature, and Kobu again vanished. As the exile reemerged on the bastion’s floor near his foe, the pair resumed their battle, again furiously exchanging blows. Though the dead lord now appeared to have two distinct disadvantages – Tyndur and Habrok. But a few fiery shafts from Habrok revealed the undead warrior was also protected by a similar energy shield.

  “Guys! He’s as close as he’ll ever be! The spell?” Tyler called out to his guides.

  “X is already on it. We had to use a portion against that mutated Minhocao. But on the bright side, the unconventional energy you produced appeared to be effective against the kind of power fueling the animating spell.”

  “Hal. Do it quickly. That Bjarte is a dangerous warrior! With a supersized magical sword! He’s holding off Tyndur and Kobu. The bastard is bound to eventually get a lucky hit against those two!”

  “X is calculating the minimum needed energy against the dimensional shield and the encapsulating spell. We need to reserve the most we could retain against the ancient conjuration. And that’s not the dead lord’s natural ability and skills. They have been greatly enhanced by the animating energy. Added to, even. His personal shield is but an example. But I believe the ancient sword he uses has increased his martial abilities at least tenfold.”

  “Done!” Tyler heard X exclaim. There was a tone so human in its utterance, the mage was fleetingly distracted.

  “What do you mean done?” he asked, half hopeful that his guides had finished the undertaking. It was a given that X and Hal would have to do the tricky and challenging task of making sense of the magical labyrinth awaiting them. A sharp, detailed image of the main conjuration rose in his mind.

  Like the delicate structure of a snowflake… Though it’s a sickly hue of green, concluded the mage. So marvelously intricate, aesthetically beautiful, and deadly. To navigate his own way through such a maze was crazy.

  Tyler looked at his companions. The ranger was running out of arrows. Only his magical shafts were making an impression, though Bjarte evaded them or sliced them in the air.

  He must be making sure anything magical is not of the same sort that killed his pet, thought the mage. Only Kobu’s weapon was getting through Bjarte’s shield, merely to be blocked by the warlord’s sword; it was an observation which puzzled Tyler and made him wonder where the exile’s weapon came from.

  Tyndur’s fiery strikes, though magical, were not getting through the shield, but they were savagely struck with such force that unless evaded or blocked, the inevitable feedback staggered the dead lord. Yet the mage was exceedingly worried. Only a minute or so had passed and the lone Bjarte had managed to maneuver the trio into a corner, with Habrok at the back. With Kobu’s weapon the only effective counter to the sword, the mage knew the exile wouldn’t dare teleport and instead attack from the rear. If he did that, the mage knew it would be over for Tyndur and Habrok in a few seconds.

  The back… the thought momentarily lingered.

  Without hesitation, Tyler converted the staff to its spear form, and with a final warning to Birki, threw the weapon at the back of the revenant. The blade penetrated the shield, and at first, it flew with incredible speed but was abruptly beset with noticeable slowness when it encountered Bjarte’s barrier. Then it was through the obstruction and pierced the dead lord’s body, half of the staff now protruding from the torso. The revenant immediately jumped back and stood on a crenellation. He looked at Tyler, green eyes now blazing with fury.

  “I forgot about you. But your minion did keep me busy. It appears I have to get rid of you first,” the dark being said in the low, chilling, sepulchral tone they all had heard before.

  Kobu immediately appeared in front of Tyler, the kanabo now in daisho form, a two-sword combination.

  “He’s good,” the mage commented tersely.

  “It’s just that accursed sword. Remove that, and he won’t last two seconds with me,” replied the man with obvious disdain. “I hate fighting against objects.”

  The exile adopted a strange stance with the two swords, the dual blades held out in front at shoulder level, while Bjarte lightly jumped off the stone cover. He didn’t even deign to remove the spear staff absurdly sticking out of him. Tyndur slowly moved closer and approached from the back. Habrok had gotten tired of using his bow and had drawn his longsword. The ranger approached from the side. Nobody had gotten in a cut or blow yet, except for Tyler, and the mage suspected that only the nature and energies of the staff made it possible. Bjarte raised the great sword, marked with nicks and rust, in a two-handed grip.

  “Impressive sport though. I had thought one of you would have fallen by now,” said the dead lord with a trace of sarcasm.

  “You’re nothing without your stinking magic, braggart. I could smell the foulness of your aroma from here. Smells like the cowardly dung of a donkey’s fodder twice eaten and twice shat into a pigsty,” said Tyndur.

  At Tyndur’s statement, Bjarte stopped his advance on Kobu and Tyler. He carefully looked at the einherjar. The mage could see the nimbus surrounding the dead lord roil and churn busily, and then finally spun around the figure, its speed picking up as it continued its circuit.

  “You.” Bjarte’s voice was cold. “I swore I would feed your balls to you as you watched.”

  Fuck. This is not going to end well!

  “Is it nearly done? We’re going to have our eggs scrambled out here! inwardly screamed the mage as he let loose the strongest lightning bolt he could manage at Bjarte’s head. All it did was leave a black mark on the intangible barrier, a large blemish that disappeared after a few seconds. Bjarte was slightly rocked by the furious attack.

  He glanced at Tyler.

  “Wait your turn.”

  “Come on, tiny balls! You spineless excuse for an offspring of an ugly jotunn and an undersized dokkalfr. You want some of this?” shouted Tyndur. “Come and get some! Buttery balls!”

  Even the mage was astonished by the einherjar’s language, until he realized Tyndur was giving him more time and Kobu a chance to attack. As Bjarte walked toward Tyndur, he abruptly stopped and gave a soundless scream toward the heavens. A bright light erupted from inside his body, burning away his form and the ghastly nimbus encircling him. Then he was gone, though a small pile of ash remained on the stone floor with the mage’s staff on top. A stiff night breeze suddenly blew through the parapet, scattering the dead lord’s residue to the wind.

  Tyler immediately stood up and stared at the moons and stars of Adar. The hazy mist shrouding the clear night sky was gone, as if done away with at the flick of a finger. The deafening roar resounding from the ramparts told him the siege was over. In the distance, he saw a bright speck of light fly toward the heavens.

  Flashy bastard, thought the mage.

  The companions rushed to the crenellations. But Kobu made a point of stopping where Bjarte spectacularly dissolved. He glanced at the watching mage.

  “Making sure that cursed sword is also gone. Such things are not for mortal men. I could sense the corruption within it,” the exile explained with a wry grin.

  Tyler stood where he was, trying to calm himself down. He couldn’t believe what a near thing the entire episode was. A few more seconds and a second dead companion would have been on his conscience. After a quick healing spell on himself, the mage walked to where Bjarte had fallen and retrieved his staff. The companions were busy watching the joyful reaction of the defenders.

  “Thanks, guys,” he told his guides when he returned to the open archway leading down the parapet. The thunderous victory shouts were still continuing. He sat on a stair, his back to the wall. The mage could feel his adrenaline going down.

  “You’re welcome, sire. But lest you forget, our existence also depends on your survival,” Hal remin
ded him laconically.

  “That too,” laughed Tyler. “But even so, my gratitude and appreciation for a job well done.”

  “We did notice a welcome side effect of your energy. Thankfully it was enough, though because of the limited quantity, it took some time to destroy the core of the target spell. It was, as suspected, a remarkably complex matrix,” said X.

  “Side effect?” reacted the mage quickly but then relaxed. My nerves are tightly wound as a freaking fisherman’s knot. X did say a welcome effect.

  “The Elder energy produced was bonded to the natural magic of this world. As it dissolved the ancient spell, the result of our experiment also rapidly returned to the ether, spreading the dissolution effect. Elder energy takes a lot more time to decay and return to its original state. Sometimes, it just vanishes. You’ll find the undead plague is gone throughout the realms or will be gone in a day or two. But in this area, we doubt if a ghoul could be found for miles around,” Hal explained at length.

  “That’s good! At least we don’t need to go around shutting off animating spells. Not to mention undergoing that harrowing and debilitating process over and over again.”

  Tyler’s discussion with his guides was interrupted by the clatter of armor rushing up the stairwell. He stood up. It was the jarl and the two dwarves. The bodyguards stayed several feet behind, though the mage could see them.

  Seeing him, the young jarl threw out his hands and embraced him.

  “My thanks, High Mage! Thank you!” It was all the jarl could say.

  Tyler moved back to the parapet to give the others room. As soon as the two dwarves stood on the platform, they went to him and simultaneously slapped him on the shoulders, one from each dwarf. It was a painful experience. His muscles were still sore. But the mage forced a grin.

  “Good job, High Mage! I knew you could handle it!” cried out Dvalin.