The Accidental Archmage: Book Two - Gifts of the Greeks (Accidental Archmage Series 2)

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  He assigned Astrid to the right flank and Habrok to the left. Eight feet distance from him on either side. Again, he repeated his injunctions against engaging the demigods and minor gods, the need to avoid killing them, and the fact that they are supposed to guard against flanking enemies. But he told Habrok to use his bow as he saw fit.

  "Habrok, I don't think we have the time for scouting. Anyway, in a short while, they'll know we're here. Just watch for any movement along our flanks."

  Habrok nodded in response.

  Looking over the terrain, he started planting the squares again. They have shown to be deadly constructs against onrushing foes back in Scarburg. These were sown on the flat ground in front of their position in a four-layer crisscross pattern. Some he placed along the tree line in the flanks of their area. A few were emplaced at the back. He didn’t put any on the slope, figuring the angle of approach would make it already difficult for the enemy.

  He worked as quickly as he could, knowing his expenditure of magical energy will be noticed by their enemies. Satisfied as to the placement of his surprises, he fashioned a force barrier similar to the Scarburg one. A waist-high frontal shield, enough to protect the three of them, with an angled overhanging cover and support panels at its sides. He double-checked his own shields. Finally, he called the attention of his two AIs.

  “Guys. You know what’s going to happen next.”

  “Yes, Elder,” answered X.

  “If you start using your offensive spells, will that affect my use of the energy I have gathered?”

  “No, Elder. We gather energy by ourselves. We do not rely on any reserves you have prepared,” said Hal.

  “For the coming party, you are free to use the spells against our enemies. Semi-divine and divine beings take priority.”

  “As you order, Elder,” replied X. “It would be a good opportunity to test the accuracy of our targeting systems.”

  “At least, you get some hardware testing out of it,” Tyler dryly replied. “By the way, how powerful is Hal’s fireball now?”

  “Power had increased by a factor of three, Elder. The increase also applies to your barrier,” said Hal.

  “Good. You have your instructions.”

  Tyler lay prone on the grass, waiting for the mass of foes to make an appearance. A few minutes passed and still no sign of them. He let his affinity sense flow through the ambient energy in the area. Finally, he could feel the presence of four slowly moving power concentrations in the distance. He looked at Habrok.

  “Habrok, do you have any idea on how fast a lochos can march?”

  “I’ve seen them in Akrotiri, Sire. Quite slow. The need to keep in close formation and all that armor make for a sluggish mass of men. If that ostentatious mounted soldier is their leader, then they would take longer than usual. That kind of officer usually insists on making his men march as if on parade.”

  “Thanks, Habrok. That means we’ll be waiting for them for a while.”

  “Oh no, Sire. If he’s a by-the-book man, he’ll send some cavalry to scout first.”

  “I hope so. We do need to announce our presence formally,” said Tyler.

  The three waited some more. Astrid was crouching, her body shielded by a rise in the ridge of the hill.

  “Sire! I see horsemen approaching at a canter,” said Astrid.

  Figures. She’s got a better vantage point.

  After a while, Tyler could see the cavalry approaching along the dirt track. They appeared to be a group of around twenty to twenty-five men. They looked like hoplites on horses but with smaller shields. Probably lighter armor too, he thought.

  The horsemen stopped in full view of the hill.

  “Distance, Habrok?”

  “A bit far for arrows, Sire. Around 600 to 700 feet.”

  “You think you can take a shot?”

  “Too chancy, Sire. The wind is against us,” came the reply.

  “Let’s wait,” said Tyler. “Hopefully, they’ll oblige us by coming closer.”

  From what he could see, the horsemen were craning their heads in the direction of the hills. Tyler realized that though the enemy knew their general location, they still had no idea of where precisely they were positioned. After a while, the horsemen adopted a line abreast formation and urged their mounts forward at a slow trot.

  “Habrok,” said Tyler. “Allow me to greet them. But you can use your bow after that.”

  “Yes, Sire.” The man already had an arrow in his bow.

  The enemy cavalry came closer. The lack of resistance for a few minutes encouraged some of them to speed up.

  “Distance, Habrok.”

  “The leading group of five is about three hundred feet away. The rest about fifty feet behind.”

  “Enough distance for a greeting then?”

  “Of course, Sire.”

  Tyler looked at the incoming line. He thought about the placement of his fireballs. One in front of the leading five and two distributed among the rest. Concentrating, he created the orbs in front of the approaching horsemen and detonated them.

  The three explosions, though not as massive as the bigger fireballs he had used, still shook the quiet of the countryside. The flutter of a mass of birds as they took to the sky from the trees around them could be heard from his position. As the red, orange and yellow fiery streamers came into existence, he willed them to expand and cover the men. The fire burned and engulfed the cavalrymen nearest to the detonation points. Unfortunately, he could hear the screams of the burning and dying.

  Several immediately fell to the ground. Some were still, apparently already dead or struck unconsciousness by the shockwave of the explosions. They soon will be dead, thought Tyler. The characteristic sticky nature of the flames of his fireballs will see to that. The unmanned horses able to escape the fires rushed away together with the mounted men beyond the area of effect of the magical blasts.

  Looking at the field before him, which had three blackened areas, he estimated he had eliminated around ten to twelve men of the patrol. Though two more bodies were whole and unburned but with arrows sticking out of them. Habrok’s handiwork, he noted.

  He glanced at Astrid. The Valkyrie appeared calm and was continuing to survey their surroundings. He looked back at the field and saw one figure trying to crawl back. In a second, he was unmoving due to having sprouted an arrow on his back.

  “What kind of arrow did you use?” asked Tyler.

  “They had these armor-piercing arrows back at the inn’s armory. Grabbed all I could get and oiled the heads with that magic fluid,” replied Habrok.

  No wonder his arrows pierce through ordinary armor like shit through a duck.

  Quiet again reigned over the area. But with the wind blowing from the opposite direction, the familiar sweetish and roasted smell of burned flesh assaulted his nostrils. Tyler was deeply troubled by the lack of his usual instinct to gag and vomit. Does familiarity breed immunity? God, I hope not. Having cauterized feelings would mean giving in to this world’s norms, he thought as he shuddered. I don’t want to go into that black hole.

  Several long minutes passed. Then Astrid spoke up.

  “Sire, I see them coming. Running. Riders at the back. Ragged lines.”

  The lochos did show up as a disorganized mob. Their handlers must have gotten angry and made them hurry, Tyler observed. But accompanying them were slingers and archers. The entire group were some distance away. Farther than where the horsemen earlier stopped. As he watched, he saw officers impose order on the chaotic mass of men. Finally, the formation was deployed in a reasonably disciplined array. Suddenly, Tyler felt a massive wave of energy flash everywhere.

  There goes the don’t-leave-yet spell, he wryly observed.

  The hoplite lochos , with spears up, was at the back, shields locked together. The typical phalanx formation. Nice. A massed target, noted Tyler. In front were the bowmen in a skirmish line, slingers at the side. The cavalry was grouped to the right of the lochos. He could see Ha
brok’s favorite cavalryman, with his golden armor and a monster of a decoration for his helmet. Another peacock, thought the mage. What interested Tyler were the four figures in front of the entire formation. Deployed in a line, roughly equal in distance from the nearest being. They looked human, though a lot taller and wore different sets of armor. But one stood out from the rest as it had wings. White, large, and eagle-like wings. That must be Nike, he noted.

  The winged figure broke formation and slowly flew towards the hill. Directly at where Tyler was hidden. Though she held her shield on her left arm, her sword remained sheathed.

  “Don’t shoot! Don’t attack!” he called to Habrok and Astrid. He stood up, finding no sense in hiding anymore when Nike knew precisely where he was. He took a few steps back. Nike stopped at the ridge, floating above the ground. He could see Habrok give the being a glance and returned his observation of the enemy below them. Astrid, on the other hand, had a surprised expression on her face. Tyler saw she forgot to close her mouth in the shock of the moment.

  “Khaire, young Havard,” greeted the winged goddess of victory.

  Tyler inclined his head in the semblance of a bow. Never hurts to keep your eyes on your opponent, he thought. Even when you’re bowing. The goddess, to Tyler’s surprise, was wearing an armor similar to the Roman lorica segmentata , a laminated-strip cuirass. Her helmet was Illyrian like Astrid’s, but decorated with metal wings at the side. She wore greaves on her legs, leather trousers, and sandals. A focale , or a scarf worn around the neck to prevent armor chaffing, and pteruges , or a skirt of leather strips worn around the waist, completed her protective attire. And she looked young. A woman appearing to be eighteen to twenty years old though her blue eyes were wise and old beyond what she seemed to be.

  “What brings us the honor of the goddess of victory’s visit?” he asked.

  “A battle is looming. I wanted to see for myself the bane of Ares,” she laughed.

  Well, that appears to be a good omen, he believed. She’s laughing and apparently in a good mood. Then the thought struck him that she could be in an excellent temperament in favor of those waiting below.

  “And what do you see?” Tyler queried the goddess.

  “A young man. Lost. Trying to find his way in this world. And yet, powerful. A mystery hidden behind his youth. Buried inside is retained civility and righteous indignation. I think I will watch how you fare, young mage. But there’s time to talk later. For now, battle awaits you. But wait for a while yet, I do have something to tell those cretins.”

  The winged goddess turned and faced the soldiers and beings below. She rose several feet in the air. Then she spoke.

  “Hear me, soldiers and minor gods of Dori! This battle is not mine! I will stand aside and let the Fates decide how you will fare this day!”

  With that, the goddess rose until she was just a speck in the sky. Then she stopped, clearly intending to watch the battle. Tyler looked back at the enemy. It was clear that Nike’s declaration discomfited them. The three remaining beings were conferring with each other. He had to admire the discipline of the Dorian soldiers. Lesser men would have started to think about running when the deity of victory suddenly adopts a neutral stance. It did help their discipline that the cavalrymen and their officers were going among them.

  After a few minutes, the entire group started moving forward, the three remaining minor gods in the lead. He noticed that the archers in front of the lochos had advanced further ahead, enabling the first rank of the phalanx to lower their long spears. Immediately after that move, the succeeding ranks raised shields on top of their heads.

  A tortoise-formation? I thought only Romans had those! Tyler was startled.

  He began to think of a way to break the formation but he noticed that the archers' bows were almost in range of the hill. He was starting to prepare his spells against them when he saw something strange and even to his militarily-untrained mind, stupid. The cavalry, led by the golden armored figure, attacked. Their going through the infantry was a prelude to their lining up in charging formation. Tyler missed it.

  The cavalry force of less than a hundred men thundered through the flat ground. The distance between them and the hill would make it a very short charge. He thought quickly. He didn’t want to use the exploding squares yet. He intended that welcome for the infantry or the three minor gods. Then the enemy archers let loose their arrows.

  “Cover!” he shouted.

  He knew the arrows were released at an extreme range. It was intended to keep their heads down. But Tyler knew there was no telling if any would find their mark. True enough, he could hear some arrows impact and bounce off the overhead energy barrier. As the mage was going to raise his head and look at the onrushing enemy, three massive explosions dissolved the shield in front of them. He didn’t know whether it was cast by mages within the lochos or by the minor gods.

  Shit! We’re losing the initiative!

  But he could see Habrok firing shaft after shaft. Keeping prone, he rebuilt the barrier and looked at what was happening. The cavalry had reached the foot of the hill and with evident difficulty, were trying to rush up the incline. Some saddles were already empty. Gathering energy, he let loose a blizzard of arrowhead-sized blades at the milling crowd of men and horses at the bottom of their position. As the blades struck home, he threw in three fireballs for good measure. His last view of the bottom of the hill as he ducked was of men and horses being sliced to pieces by the blizzard of blades. Then three loud explosions followed.

  “Habrok, what do you see?” he asked, not wishing to raise his head.

  “A meat market and a roasting party,” came the laconic reply.

  “How many left?”

  “A few. A moment, Sire. I see Mr. Pompous Ass.”

  Tyler took a quick look. He saw the golden armored warrior free himself from his fallen horse and start running up the hill. The man didn’t lack bravery, he thought. Then four arrows quickly pierced the body of the warrior. One in the neck, two in the torso, and the last one in the right leg. The speed by which the arrows were loosed by Habrok astounded him. The stricken warrior fell in a spray of blood and rolled down the hill. At the sight, the rest of the survivors retreated.

  “Got him!” said Habrok. “I really hated that armor.”

  With the debacle at the foot of the hill before them, the rest of the infantry slowed down. Tyler estimated they were in range. He had to act before the minor gods start their attack. Thankfully, they appeared to have been shocked by the gory mess of men and horses. He focused on the archers and slingers, materialized small orbs along their line, infused them with energy and exploded them. The blasts went off as one, with a deafening and otherworldly explosion. His ears rang from the detonation. He could just imagine how the ears of those close by were affected, even if they did survive. As he peered out, he saw the three minor gods thrown aside like dolls by the shockwaves. He doubted if their hearing were unaffected by what happened.

  The line of bowmen and slingers was gone. Some were running back already. And Habrok was busy picking them off. He guessed the only thing which would stop the ranger was an empty quiver or quivers. He believed the man brought two with him, if Tyler’s memory served them right.

  The hoplite phalanx had stopped. Whoever led it now couldn’t make up his mind to either march forward or do something else. For one, a double line of bloody and dismembered bodies blocked its way. While it was immobile, Tyler struck with a quake spell in the area of the waiting hoplites. As the field heaved and split around them, the ordered ranks of the hoplites broke open. Men fell into the ground, some were swallowed by the maws of the splitting ground, and other dropped their shields and spears in the tumult. At that moment, he threw another three fireballs into the confused and milling lochos. Then followed it up with another blade blizzard. A bigger one.

  It was a hellish scene. As the fireballs exploded, men were torn apart, engulfed by fire, or thrown high into the air by the blasts. And as the flame
s were still burning men and the ground where they were, the deluge of deadly small blades hacked and sliced their way among them. Tyler saw shields cut through and armored men gutted like fish, even as they were trying to put out burning parts of their bodies. And while this was going on, Habrok was firing arrow after arrow into the doomed and wretched throng. He glanced at Astrid. To her credit, the Valkyrie’s eyes were on the three beings who were starting to stand up.

  As the three beings stood up, Tyler could see how livid and irate they were. They immediately rushed to the attack. Furor was indeed the fastest though to Tyler’s eyes, he looked like he was jogging due to the slowing effects of the bracer of Hephaestus. Meanwhile, the spirit of the din of war stood and gave a ferocious shout. The mage sent him a spearhead-size exploding blade. As it hit, Homados tumbled back heads over heels, engulfed in flame. Mors, in his black armor, was walking fast towards them. Which to Tyler meant he was running.

  As the two reached the middle of the area where the squares were emplaced, the mage exploded those around the rushing deities. Mors was staggered and fell to his knees, armor smoking. Furor surprisingly was able to evade the worst of the explosions and was getting nearer. The gradient of the slope proved to be no obstacle to him. Tyler let loose six blades against the advancing foe. All missed. And Furor was heading directly at the mage. All of a sudden, a lesser Elder blast slammed into Furor just as he was jumping over a hollow depression in the ground. The explosion lifted him up, only to be met by a javelin thrown by Astrid. The javelin tore through the minor god’s shoulder and the momentum of the projectile brought him forward. This time directly to the ground, head first. Tyler gave quick thanks to his AIs. The blast was perfectly timed and removed any force shield Furor had.

  Tyler looked at Mors. The being was trying to stand up again. The mage hit him with a lesser Elder blast of his own. The powerful energy hit Mors directly in the chest, threw him back a few feet where he fell, face facing the sky. He was smoking more than before. Tyler looked for Homados. He found the spirit on the ground, weakly trying to put out the flames on his body. Nobody was left standing among their enemies.