With the priest’s statement, Tyler heard a loud “DING!” in his imagination. He felt giddy and excited. But he still had to continue the conversation. Otherwise, he would have rushed back to his room to experiment some more.
“Then how is the energy harnessed? I mean it has to be collected in some form, right? Before being shaped and channeled through the rune by means of one’s will. But as you said, the effectiveness and strength of the spell are determined by a person’s magical affinity. A limiter of sorts.”
“Knowledge and awareness of the energy itself are crucial. To collect or harness something, one has to know it exists and how to find it. Then manage and manifest it through the appropriate rune.”
“So the rune determines the kind of spell?”
“Yes. That’s the basic principle behind runic magic. Otherwise, one will still have to shape the energy to the form of the looked-for result before it is manifested. A shaping ability deemed to be beyond mortal magic’s capacity. Runes make it far simpler and faster. But as I said, it has its limits. Magical affinity is like… Let me first think about an apt analogy.”
The priest thought for almost a minute before he looked at Tyler again.
“Got it! Think of every Adar inhabitant as an electrical wire. Insulated with a conductive material. Now, as with such hardware, we have many kinds of wires with varying thickness of the conductive material within. The conductive material courses the magical energy through a person. The bigger the wire, the more energy can be channeled. Use more than what the material can handle and you can guess what the result will be.”
Tyler nodded his head. The images of electrocuted people ran through his mind. Not a pleasant experience. Again, he blamed his active imagination.
The two discussed magical matters for a while, with Tyler being able at last to insert the idea of a central learning establishment for mages with a healing center for non-mages, as Odin instructed. The priest was excited about the concept. Apparently, no formal structure existed. Though training was handled by temples, mages usually work alone in conjunction with the fiefdom they found themselves in or are grouped in informal associations. Organizing matters would be fairly easy for the priest. With his status as a Favored of the head of the Nordic pantheon and the fact that magical training was handled through temples, the Gothi was highly confident of accomplishing the task.
Maljen was also the perfect site for the center. Far enough from the capital and the politics of the nobility, yet important and wealthy because of being one of the two major trade ports of Skaney. Moreover, the Jarl and his line have always been supportive of the priesthood, probably because of the need to balance out any aggressive ambitions towards Maljen from neighboring fiefdoms. The priest was also confident enough to see the guaranteed support of the Jarl as well as the grant of land for the center.
As the after-dinner talk was drawing to a close, the priest mentioned that he has been informed that Tyler will be going on a journey. Tyler was not surprised. The old man certainly works fast.
“Any idea where you’ll be heading?” asked the priest.
“I was thinking of going north. That seems to be the direction which will favor me in the long run.”
“North… you do know that choice is more dangerous? Ymir is getting restless, I hear. He can’t resist poking Skaney every five years or so.”
“I know. But the safer route is not a solution and at the end of the day, I have to learn to protect myself. You know the degree of unwanted attention I have attracted.”
Tyler had no idea how much the old man had told the Gothi. For now, he played it safe. But the priest didn’t intrude further on the matter.
“Scarburg does have an extensive library of jotunn-related materials on magic. I think you may be interested in them. I will prepare a letter of introduction to the priest-librarian giving you full access. Also, another letter to the war-mage of Scarburg, it is a fortress-town after all. Perennially on war footing. More so now. When do you plan to go?”
“I was thinking of the day after tomorrow. No sense putting it off.”
“I will make the arrangements though I suggest you leave your pack and its contents here for the time being. Your room will always be available for your personal use and locked while you are gone. You can leave your things there. For your journey, I will secure the services of a group of mercenaries to go with you up to Bildsfell. Two of my huskarls will be your permanent companions. There’s a new road leading directly from Maljen to Bildsfell which will considerably shorten the travel time. But few people use it because of the road’s proximity to Fossegrim Forest. Fear of old legends takes a long time to disappear in this world.”
“Ah… Ivar… I do have to confess something,” said Tyler with some embarrassment, “I don’t know how to ride a horse.”
The Gothi laughed.
“No, you won’t be riding a horse. I did have my suspicions. You can use the pickup carriage we used last time though I hope it brings you better luck than it did me. Don’t worry about the rest of the arrangements, I’ll take care of it.”
With that, the evening meal was over though Tyler asked for another book, this one dealing particularly with the kind of runes being used. The priest promised to send one to Tyler’s room in a few minutes.
On the way back to his room, Tyler was excited about the epiphany he had and was thinking of continuing his experimentation. Then he remembered that it was night time. People sleep early in this town. With the possibility of making a racket with his experimentation, he may attract undue attention, not to mention disturb his host. Sighing, he decided to defer such activities to the following day and instead read through the book the priest promised to send up.
Well, he did need another good night’s rest, Tyler thought, an undisturbed good night’s rest.
CHAPTER LORE:
Kunna – Old Norse. Meaning “to know, to understand.” Sometimes used to refer to knowledge of the workings of magic.
CHAPTER VII
A Dokkalfr Welcome
Tyler looked at the approaching column of warriors as he sat at the rear of the carriage, legs dangling over the edge of the cargo part of the conveyance.
The men leading the march were visible now to his enhanced eyesight. Five men abreast, the column took up more than half of the width of the road. His own group had been on it for two days now, making slow but steady time, with breaks for meals. They had left Maljen before daybreak on the appointed day, meeting the mounted mercenary escort outside the city gates.
For now, they had already passed Fossegrim Forest and the hills forming the end of the mountainous area bordering the forest was in the distance. As expected, the road wound its way a great distance from the forest, about five to six miles in his estimation. Past the forest, it coursed its way back to the hills, avoiding the forested area to the right of the road.
The sight of Fossegrim Forest initially filled him with some degree of anxiety. But the lack of any incident relieved him, causing him to trust more in the ring of the All-Father. Strangely, even from a distance, the colors of Fossegrim Forest seemed a bit muted compared to the vibrant hues of the trees in the distant hills.
As far as his experimentation on using magical energy the following morning after the dinner with the priest, it was a dismal failure again. Despite his epiphany on the theory of magical energy, he still failed to make a breakthrough. Mr. Water Jug remained obstinate. He knew he had a logical theory of the basics but something vital was missing in his comprehension of the subject.
During that same day, the priest showed him the various devices used to tell time in Skaney. They were all primitive and unreliable. Even the priest was dissatisfied about the time-keeping contrivances. But he explained to him that for the Norse, keeping time had not been that important for them. Nor do they have the inclination to invent more precise instruments.
The Grecian water-clocks were a lot better. More to the point, existing technology was not up to the making of
small springs, sprockets, and gears needed for modern mechanical clocks. But the priest told him he was already making inquiries for the importation of a sample of the improved version of the water-clock, hoping to introduce it to Nordic culture. And make a lot of profit selling copies of it after reverse engineering, thought the amused Tyler when the priest confided in him.
The rest of that day was spent reading the new book and resting. Until he left Maljen, his fear of human assailants and supernatural encounters bottled him inside the Gothi's house. But now, on the open road on his way to Scarburg, it felt great to be outside of the city. Fresh air, the countryside vista and the feeling of escape from the closed city confines made him feel free.
Jorund and three of the twelve-man escort had gone to meet the column. The mercenary escort appeared to be hardened professionals. Each with their own mismatched set of leather armor improved by small iron plates distributed at the owner’s discretion. Helmets and weapons were also eclectic in diversity and shapes. The only common thread among their gear was the shield adornment, a stylized dark yellow hammer in a white field, and the spear each carried.
Tyler didn’t bother dealing with the mercenaries, Jorund took care of that. Even during camp, the mercenaries gathered among themselves, staying some distance from them. But the posted watches conducted by the mercenaries included their area. March order was also organized, with three riding point, three at the back and the rest distributed along the sides of the carriage.
His new companion, Habrok, was a distraction. A thin but muscular man, with blond hair and a pleasant face but the likability ended there. The priest had mentioned that the warrior was his best scout and bowman but didn’t mention how talkative he was. Even when nobody was listening.
He sang when he didn’t try to begin a conversation with Tyler or with any guard who came near. He now knew what Jorund meant when the man slowly shook his head the first time Habrok had a discussion with Tyler. Which was more of a monologue of Habrok’s real or imagined adventures, sexual conquests, complaints and the like. The man never ran out of topics. Tyler was reduced to answering with a yes, no, or a grunt when Habrok tried to start a conversation. He didn’t even know the places the man talked about nor understand most of the situations portrayed by Habrok. Quiet only reigned when Habrok got tired of talking. Or of being ignored.
Jorund was no help in reining in Habrok. The only time he heard Jorund talk to the man, except for orders and instructions, was at camp when Habrok starting telling a story about a tavern girl. Jorund called him a “kveldulfr,” which translated as an evening-wolf. A term which was followed by Jorund’s reference to one of the reasons why Habrok was assigned to the journey. Habrok clammed up after that. For a little while.
But Habrok made for an excellent camp manager. He handled and cared for the horses well, was a decent cook, and was attentive to small camp details. Armed and in his black leather armor, he slept near Tyler who had his sleeping area under the wagon. But the man snored. Loudly.
The sound of nearing horses broke Tyler out from his reverie. He heard Jorund give the order to move off the road. As they waited for the column to pass by, Jorund went to Tyler.
“More reinforcements from Maljen for Scarburg, my lord. Four batur’s worth. Or one pentekostyes.”
“Isn’t that Greek?”
“Yes, my lord. Fighting jotunn the old way was inefficient. The old way was for fighting men, as it gave an opportunity for honor. Against most of the jotnar? Against monsters? It may be a way to go to Valhalla but for no other purpose.”
“So you adopted the Greek way of war?”
“Only the dead don’t adapt, my lord. We took some lessons from the Greeks whom we have fought in the past. But the shield wall remains. In melee, our way of fighting is still the best. Now as in the past, our warriors have always proven to be ferocious and vicious up close.”
Tyler was impressed. For Jorund, those few sentences were already a speech.
The warrior column was now passing the group. It was followed by some supply wagons. Again, Tyler observed the mismatched armor with the only commonality being the helms and the shields. The helms were of the conical shape with eye guards. Most were colored black, while the round shields were similar in size and decoration – green with red bands from edge to edge. The shields were all slung on the backs of the warriors though Tyler noticed something.
“No spears?”
“They’re in the wagons, my lord. Makes no sense to carry spears while in marching order in peaceful country.”
“Same kind as our guards?”
“No, my lord. Heavier. Boar spears. Around eight to nine feet in length. Also javelins. At least two for each man.”
Tyler noticed that Jorund was back to his clipped way of talking.
“We have been permitted to be part of the column, my lord. But at the back and at their speed.”
“That’s perfect! Then our journey will definitely be safer! No bandit will even think of tangling with us!”
That was Habrok. Tyler sighed. The man just jinxed them. He was sorely tempted to push him off the driver’s seat.
But the journey continued without incident. They did have to speed up but it was not a problem. During camp, each group stuck with their own and posted their own watchmen. It did give Tyler a greater sense of safety and security. Towards the end of the second day since they joined the column, Tyler saw that they were approaching the end of the hill range. The road passed through a series of hills and the edge of a forest.
It was nearing dusk and he was looking forward to the night-meal and some rest. The novelty of the journey through Skaney’s countryside was gone. It was hills, forests, a bit of flat land topped with a solitary hill now and then on the right side of the road. No villages or settlements. It was obvious that people wanted no part of being near Fossegrim Forest.
The column stopped. Tyler asked Habrok about the reason. After a few inquiries, Habrok turned to Tyler and said that the commander thought it better to get the men to arm shields. The gap ahead was a perfect ambush site for bandits. The commander was playing it safe. And then Habrok continued with a long dialogue. With the singular thread of how safe and lucky they were that they had joined with a warrior column with such an experienced and brave leader. Tyler tuned him out and held up his hand, palm out, signifying the end of the conversation. All he could think of was how Habrok jinxed them again.
After a while, the column started moving. It was obvious that the commander wanted to get past the gap before finding a place to camp. As they neared the gap, the last rays of the fading sun were disappearing. Then, it happened.
Even from the back of the column, Tyler could see the cloud of arrows rising up like a horde of insects. It was directed at the column. At that moment, all Tyler could think of was how truly jinxed they were. And it was all Habrok’s fault.
“BAKHOLD! I KOMANDI!”
Tyler could hear Habrok shout the alarm. But his eyes were fixed on the incoming rain of arrows. Ambush, incoming, his glazed mind translated. He was snatched from his morbid fascination by the sudden movement of the carriage. Habrok was turning the wagon, bringing the horses away from the deadly rain. As the wagon turned, he could see the other wagons in front doing the same maneuver and similar shouts echoed all along the column.
When the wagon came to a stop, Tyler jumped out and took cover under it. To his front, he saw that the other wagons have started to form a circle, though theirs was evidently not included. He could see some of the mercenary guards in the gloom, moving back but within sight of the wagon. Jorund was nowhere to be seen. It deceptively looked like a confused mess, with people running around amid loud shouting. But he could see that the reaction of the other wagon drivers and their helpers was fast and decisive. Though the panic in their voices was obvious.
Aside from the activity among the wagons, he couldn't see what was happening elsewhere. He did observe several glowing areas in the distance, as if fires have been lit. Hab
rok snuck beside him.
“I am glad your instincts are with you, my lord,” said the man.
The Accidental Archmage: Book One - Ragnarok Rising (MOBI EDITION) Page 14