Gifts of the Greeks

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  Tyler's instinctive reaction was to follow the energy back to its source. The tracking was immediate. He saw an ominous being in black armor and a black hooded cloak. It wore a mask over its face, a dark gray metal covering which had a long vertical slit for its eyes and an intersecting thin horizontal opening for breathing and speaking. The mask slits exuded a greenish light. When the being saw he was discovered, he cut the connection off and disappeared.

  Back on the field, Ares had finally gotten up and prepared to attack again. Tyler’s back was still turned. Suddenly, an opening appeared high above the god of battle. A small stone mountain swiftly fell on him with a thunderous and earthy thump. Dust covered the entire area. The ground shook.

  Tyler stared. The only thought that entered his mind as of that moment was Ares would not be able to get up from that humongous mound of rock.

  Then a bright glow appeared in front of the mage. It quickly increased in intensity and then disappeared. A smiling Viracocha stood in front of him. Tyler just looked at the deity, mouth agape.

  “Well, High Mage? Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

  Chapter Lore:

  Yahui - Mixtec. A supernatural creature in Mixtec mythology. Yahui usually takes on a humanoid form with combined human and animal features. They are believed to be cruel creatures. Myth attributes to them intelligence, speech, and magical abilities. They are also believed to engage in human sacrifice though there are stories of them assisting humans too. Literary license is adopted in this story by its adoption and expansion of the Yahui myth.

  Dorata - Ancient Greek. The plural of "dory" or spear. The term "dorata" was also used by Homer in one of his epics. A "dory" is the typical phalanx spear but it is shorter than the spear used in a Macedonian phalanx which is called a "sarissa".

  EPILOGOS

  Hellas.

  The City of Akrotiri

  The Temple of Dionysus.

  A small room at the back of the bar.

  The group was all seated. At the head of the table sat Dionysus and to his right, King Silenus. Tyler had the left chair nearest to the wine god. The rest of his companions, Jorund, Habrok, and Astrid, were in the other chairs. The ancient deity Viracocha took the seat opposite Dionysus.

  Tyler inwardly smiled as he took in the reactions of his three companions. Consciously or unconsciously, they had moved their seats as far as they can from Viracocha. The three stared at the table, avoiding eye contact with the deity. They still think Dionysus and the King are human, he thought. I wonder how they will seat themselves if they knew those two are also deities?

  Dionysus and Pappo were both quiet. Tyler sympathized with the ordinarily garrulous beings. They probably don’t know how to act with the three companions in the room, he again observed. I guess I get to be the one to break the ice.

  “Our greetings, O great Viracocha. What brings a mighty Incan deity to our humble city?”

  Viracocha’s eyebrows rose. His face a picture of puzzled amusement.

  Tyler winked at him. The god got the message.

  Now they’ve got me winking too!

  “We come with a request. We need the High Mage’s presence in our homeland. The Aztecha Empire has finally forced its way into our heartlands. Our forces are in disarray. Our Champions dead. We need a mortal avatar. And this request comes together with the entreaties of the Norse and Greek pantheons. Among others.”

  “How about other mortals? There may be other powerful ones around. As you may have noticed, we just came back from a war. Make that two, if you include the one back in Skaney. The Dorian forces may have been defeated, and Ares humbled, but we are but mortals. We are already tired and stressed beyond our limits,” replied Tyler.

  “I know, High Mage. I wouldn’t have come if the situation is not so dire. My son, Inti, the sun god, is dead.”

  Silence filled the room. The news of the death of the head of a pantheon was a shock. Especially to Dionysus and Papposilenus.

  “I am sorry. I didn’t know that,” replied Tyler, “our condolences.”

  “Our thanks. The threat is real. An Aztecha victory has implications beyond the Incan Kingdom and its two neighboring allies. And we believe you know what that means.”

  Oh, screw me. He knows about the burden imposed on me. And how come he's using the royal "we"?

  “Also, there is a site of ancient power in the Incan Kingdom. No deity had been able to decipher its secrets. If such a site falls under the control of the Aztecha Empire, the grim and deadly possibilities are dangerous beyond imagining,” Viracocha continued.

  An Elder temple. He’s talking about an Elder site. Now I am really caught between a rock and a hard place.

  “Mighty Viracocha, the Dorians are still a concern. We also need time to rest and recover,” said Tyler, grasping at an escape route. His mind was rebelling against the idea of going into the path of an empire on the warpath. A bloodthirsty and powerful empire. I remember that freaking Greater Yahui!

  At that, Viracocha looked at him. Tyler then recalled the deity had some capability to read minds.

  “Then they know about you. If they do, they won’t stop hunting you,” the deity sadly remarked.

  "Somehow, I knew you were going to say that," replied Tyler. "Though my thanks for saving me back there. I have to admit that repeat of Athena's boulder trick on a larger scale did impress me. A lot."

  The Incan deity smiled.

  "I had permission to do it. I just bent the rule a bit to make a grander and heavier impact."

  Dionysus then spoke up.

  “For Hellas, I think the Dorian threat is ended for now. The rout of their army and the defeat of Ares and his minions will be a lesson for the rulers of many Doric city-states. It will also give Akrotiri the time to improve its defenses. The Pelasgoi , for one, have been granted a permanent base in the city and have volunteered to train Akrotiri’s soldiers. Even now, I have heard reports of contingents from Dorian cities already on their way back to their homes.”

  “That’s a much-needed breather, Master Dio.”

  “We already have concluded a formal agreement with the Pelasgoi, ” piped up Papposilenus. “And we have received congratulatory messages from our leeches.”

  “Leeches?” asked Tyler, mystified.

  “We meant our allies. Fast to leave us in the lurch and quicker to return when the wind is blowing favorably. I guess the terms of our future cooperation with those leeches will be more one-sided.”

  “That’s all well and good, but how about us? As I said, we need to rest and recover.”

  “Will five days suffice?” asked Viracocha.

  “Can you make it a week?” came Tyler’s counter-offer.

  “The Incan Kingdom and its allies are currently holding back the invaders. I think they may have advanced too fast and too far. It will take them time to consolidate their forces. A week it is then.”

  “How do we do this?”

  “Just tell me where you want to go, and I’ll send you there. For your return, some of Master Dio’s stones may be of help,” replied the Incan deity.

  Tyler looked at his companions. Really powerful, he thought, a flick of a finger and the deed is done. Other deities, like Dionysus, needed to accompany us. But if he's that powerful and he can't handle Aztec pantheon, what does that mean? Oh, shit.

  “Jorund? Habrok?”

  “Some time to spend back in Maljen would be fine, Sire,” replied Jorund.

  “For me, Karsfell would be good enough. I want to settle the fatherhood issue,” replied Habrok.

  “Astrid? Your time with us has ended. It’s now your choice.”

  “I’ll go with Habrok, Sire. I want to go home for a while. As to the future, I think I’ll take a stone with me. If I don’t decide to come back, Habrok can return it to Master Dio.”

  “So that’s settled for these three,” said Dionysus, throwing three heavy pouches on the table. Each landed on the table with a weighty thump.

  “Each purs
e contains a return stone and some spending money. Gold, I think. I forgot what I filled it with,” the deity explained with a smile.

  Habrok hefted the pouch. Then he looked at Dionysus.

  “Thank you, Master Dio. But this seems too much for spending money. I could buy a small village with this. No, make that three villages!”

  “Just get it and don’t spend it all in one place, as people say.”

  Viracocha looked at Tyler.

  “And how about you, High Mage?”

  “A visit back to Fossegrim would be nice.”

  Viracocha smiled.

  “Fossegrim it is then.”

  Tyler turned to Jorund.

  "Our casualties, Jorund?"

  "A lot less than expected. The battle-god did most of the damage. But I still don't have the exact figures. Our men are still scouring the battlefield."

  “Wait. I forgot to give the mage something,” said Dionysus. He fumbled among the clutter in a bookshelf. “Ah! Here it is. I was supposed to give it to you if you do decide to go to warmer climes. And your pouch. A bit lighter, I don’t think you’ll need money in Fossegrim.”

  Something inside a rolled piece of thick cloth was given to Tyler, together with a small pouch. Smaller than the ones given to his companions and much lighter.

  The mage unrolled the package. Inside was a long and large white feather.

  Nike.

  Somebody knocked on the door.

  “Settle down you lot,” Dionysus told the three warriors. “It’s just General Ippeas.”

  The door opened, and the man stepped inside. He went to Tyler and gave him a piece of parchment.

  “Your map, Master High Mage.”

  Chapter Lore:

  Epilogos - Ancient Greek. Meaning "a conclusion."

  EXODE

  Olympus.

  Bastion of the Greek Pantheon.

  The Domain of Ares.

  The room was a large one. It had a balcony overlooking a perfectly garden filled with flowers. Most of them being red. But the statues spread sporadically throughout its blooming flowers and verdant hedges had a distinctly martial aura to them. They were all depictions of the battle god Ares, in various poses, in all his glory. It did provide an incongruous contrast to the peacefulness a garden usually exudes.

  Within the room itself, red banners with the current symbol of the battle-god, a pair of crossed swords, hung from the walls. Weapons and armor decorated every available space, even nooks and crannies of the room. But its furniture only consisted of a large bed situated near the balcony, a big chair on the balcony itself, and two chairs beside the bed.

  Occupying the two bedside chairs were the two favorite sons of Ares, Deimos and Phobos. Minor gods. But the gods of fear and panic. Ares was on the bed. Swathed with healing bandages, the only visible part of him was his face. Everything else was covered by the magical dressings.

  “Father, we have come as you have commanded,” said Deimos.

  “We are concerned, Father. You should be resting and healing,” added Phobos.

  The sons had valid reasons to be worried. They were there when a small mountain of stone was dumped on the battle god by the extremely powerful staff god. They knew the god by reputation. The oldest deity among all the pantheons of Adar. And when the staff god took an active part and stopped Ares’ treacherous attempt on the human mage’s life, the two didn't make a move to help their father. They may be deities, but they’re not stupid.

  And now, Ares appeared to have broken bones throughout his body. Hard to heal injuries. They knew their father was lucky that the gods present during the battle didn’t decide to end him right there and then. Even Athena helped them bring their father back to Olympus. But they knew their father was a stubborn and prideful man. A defeat at the hands of a mortal mage was a difficult thing to accept.

  “Don’t mind my condition,” came the rasping voice of the patient. “I want revenge on that gnat!”

  “Father, your patrons and our allies have left us. Dorian cities have withdrawn their hoplite contingents except for the survivors of those sent from Ossa and Ernieus. What we have left amounts to a mere 20,000 men. And that includes mercenaries who have not run away.”

  “Those cowards.”

  “Sire, it is too soon to think of action. We are greatly diminished.”

  “Prepare the army and get more mercenaries. Our beasts still roam the hills of Dori. Use them. Akrotiri and the rest are still defenseless. We will take them all.

  “What about the mage, father?”

  “His time will come. And I intend to cut him down to size. Little sizes.”

  “What about now, father.”

  “Gather troops and supplies. A campaign of conquest by my sons can't be pinned on me,” said the battle god.

  “And call that discordant sister of mine,” he continued.

  “The goddess Eris, Father?” asked Deimos.

  “Who else? Ask for any help she can give you! Then wait. Wait for time. Make sure the High Mage and his friends leave the city first. Give it a week. Then make your move.”

  Chapter Lore:

  Exode - Greek. Meaning "Exit Ode." It refers to the song sang by the chorus in a Greek play after the last episode is performed.

  NEXT IN THE SERIES:

  Book Three

  BLOOD WARS

  Continuing our lost mage's epic journey through the magical and extremely dangerous world of Adar.

  Escaping the convoluted schemes of the Greek pantheon, Tyler finds himself with an old acquaintance, the Incan deity Viracocha. His son, the sun god Inti, is dead. With the Aztecah Empire and its powerful pantheon of deities on the bloody road to more conquests, the deity asks for his help. A request he could easily refuse.

  Except Viracocha is not alone is asking for his aid. Two other pantheons have made their presence known to the young mage. And the Egyptian deities are watching how he will decide the matter. To add to his burdened conscience, the rise and dominance of the Aztecah pantheon would mean a million or more new human sacrifices. Resulting in extremely overpowered bloodthirsty deities.

  What's a newly minted Elder apprentice mage to do? Involve himself in a blood war?

  COMING 2018

  on Amazon Kindle

  The Chronicles of Adar:

  MIGRATION

  The Great Migration has begun. Magical entities, gods and creatures all escaping from an Earth losing its magical energy. Without magic and man’s belief, even gods will die.

  A new world beckons. Full of magic. Of new life. Of novel opportunities. Of war. Of death.

  Yet to cross over, a price needed to be paid. Magical energy. In a world fast losing its magic.

  This is the story of how the world of Adar came to be. And in the telling, the chronicle of the journey of an obscure war-god to escape to Adar with his people. Against all odds. Against nearly every magical deity.

  EXCERPTS

  BABYLONIA:

  The Sumerians (c. 3000 B.C.)

  Excerpts from the writings of Kurum, a minor priest-scribe in the Temple of Enlil:

  So it was prophesied and so it was to be.

  Revealed it was to the Great Magi Iter-Pisha in the month of Adar during the fifth year of the glorious reign of the Priest-King Amar-Sin, a new land, a magical land, for the faithful.

  In the Great Magi's nightly meditation and prayers before The High God Enlil, came a wind, strong and fresh, into the temple. Blowing through its colored stone alcoves and marbled halls, the tempest weaved its course and whirled its tumultuous way into the prostrate voice of the faithful.

  As the Great Magi bowed and abased himself, the words of fate, resounding from the temple halls and boring through his bones, came from the mighty and powerful divine visitor:

  Attend! O faithful Servant!

  For We are pleased with thee,

  And in Our bliss and generosity

  Grant thee and yours, a new land!

  For thy use and Ours. Serve us well,


  For such is Our pleasure and command.

  And so the Great Work began. A world to call our own. Away from the Elamites, the Akkadians, and the barbarians which have so troubled this ancient land of the Gods.

  UR-KASDIM:

  The Chaldeans (c. 500 B.C.)

  The ruler of Ur-Kasdim, beloved of the gods, whose reign covers all he surveys, Lord of the Chaldees, of the warrior line of Arphaxad, looked upon the enemy besieging his city. The balcony of the palace was thankfully beyond the range of the enemy’s weapons. Negotiations with the Achaemenids had failed a month ago. Now the Persians are here. Their rise to Empire looked unstoppable. He would have preferred peace. Even to the extent of being a vassal state. But the terms were too onerous. Gold, levies and land he could forego. But to abandon their gods…

  As he watched, a wave of new attackers assaulted the walls and were beaten back again. Parts of the city were already destroyed, some buildings were burning. He could see the dead bodies of his people on the streets. But the besiegers were too many. And now, his spies have told him about massive reinforcements coming to the enemy’s aid. They were a day away. Ur-Kasdim is good as fallen.

  “My Lord, my King? A soft voice called for his attention.

  “Yes, Nabu-Ikbi?” He looked upon the wizened visage of his Chief Astronomer. A competent man, his field was more about magic than the stars. Though the two fields do mesh nicely. The man provided a covert alternative to the High Priest-Mage of the Temple of Anu, the father of the gods. True to his misgivings, the traitorous priest conveniently defected to the Persians at the first opportunity.