The Accidental Archmage: Book Two - Gifts of the Greeks (Accidental Archmage Series 2)
Page 33
“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.
“My King, we have been given a choice of life or death by the gods.”
“Really? Tell me more.”
“I had a vision last night. But not of the divine Anu. But of the deity Ereskigal.”
“The goddess of the underworld? That seems to be dark tidings for us. What does Irkalla, the underworld, have to do with us?”
“The goddess deigned to inform me that she acts for Great Anu in giving us a choice. Die here under the Persians or go to a new land.”
“And how do we go to such a land? We are surrounded! More enemies will be arriving!”
“I have been shown the way, O my Lord King. Through the temple of Anu. A portal shall emerge between the two columns behind his altar but…”
“Why the hesitancy, Naku-Ikbi?”
“A rite has been revealed to me to manifest the portal. And for it to appear, we need to sacrifice mortal lives.”
“How many?” asked the King, now grasping at an unexpected lifeline.
“For the city’s inhabitants, we need the equivalent of three sattu of sacrificed lives.”
“Three years, huh? 1,080 sacrifices. Get them from the prisoners. If those are not enough, select from the most worthless of the slaves. Where does the portal lead?”
“My Lord King, a new land prepared by the gods. But we may need four sattu as we cannot evacuate all the people and the remaining slaves at the same time. One sattu to activate the portal and the rest to keep it open for the time needed.”
“I don’t care how many lives it takes! JUST PREPARE THE RITE! Order the head of the Palace to prepare everything we need to bring with us! I want us through the portal by mid-morning tomorrow. Tell my general to come and confer with me!” As you wish, O Exalted King.”
Hofsa (The Late Iron Age)
Brandr was deeply concerned. He knew that Hofsa was slowly dying. Cod disappearing from the sea. The increasing cold making farming difficult. Yield was getting smaller.
His people should move. But where? The better lands were held by rival clans. Even distant familial ties with some of them was not enough to overcome the generations of hate and bloodlust.
The settlement's resources was not enough to support a venture further out beyond familiar shores. For people to leave piecemeal would leave defenseless those that remain nor could the settlement's small fleet be enough to fight off blood enemies, rivals or even a pirate horde.
And he was now the chief of his people. The salty breeze which caressed him as he stood by the seashore didn't give him its usual refreshing effect.
As he gazed at the fading rays of the sun amid the creeping fingers of the incoming darkness, he noticed a disturbance in the waves.
Unfortunately, he was unarmored but he had his sword with him. He drew it from its sheath.
But as he gazed upon the figure emerging from the sea foam, he had a sinking feeling of who was coming. He returned his sword to his sheath, knelt on the sand and bowed his head.
"My Lord Aegir, you bless me with your presence."
The figure walked in silence and stopped in front of him.
"Rise, Brandr. Your heart has been burdened as of late. Fear not. With courage, your people will live. Do your people have courage?"
"We are men of the sea, my Lord. We have courage enough."
"Then listen. This world now only offers you death. I offer you and your people a chance at life, with the blessings of the gods. Another world. A better world. Another chance at life."
"And the price, my Lord?"
"The transfer has a cost. A high one. Enough energy is needed to open a Gate long enough for your people to pass through."
Brandt was silent. His settlement was poor. They didn't have riches.
"We are poor, my Lord. Riches in gold and jewels we don't have."
"The cost require energy, Brandt. Magical artifacts could provide it."
Brandt slumped.
"Gold and jewels we have none. What more for magical artifacts?"
"Mortal bodies can provide the energy, Brandt. If thy people cannot provide it, then find others who will. Call me by this strand when you are ready. Ten mortal vessels will be enough."
COMING 2018
on Amazon Kindle
ARCANUM ASTRAY
The Remarkable Adventures of
Master Professor Lucius K. Henry, S.M.*
*under appointment to His Imperial Highness, The Emperor of Burgundy
An alternate history. With fantasy spicing the mix.
A battle won. A Duke victorious. History changed with one missed deadly blow.
Three hundred years after winning the decisive Battle of Nancy, the royal house of Charles the Bold had turned a dukedom into an Empire.
That's the world of Master Professor Lucius Henry. High Mage of the Order of the Sacrum Abies. Summus Magister. High Professor-at-Large of the Imperial University of Learning, the elite institution of higher magical education in the Empire of Burgundy.
Magical knowledge had flourished and evolved for more than three hundred years. A tool, for better or for worse. And now it is the cornerstone of civilizations, empires, kingdoms, and mankind's very way of life.
But something is terribly wrong. Magic is disappearing.
Master Professor. High Mage of the Order of the Sacrum Abies. Summus Magister. High Professor-at-Large of the Imperial University of Learning, the best institution of higher magical education in the Empire of Burgundy. That's Lucius Henry. A very irritated Lucius Konigsberg Henry.
Lucius looked at his visitor, his face the very image of a calm and collected professor. As a lecturer among arrogant and conceited magic practitioners, he had lots of practice in hiding his desire to blast to smithereens objects of his displeasure.
His plan of a quiet afternoon of poring over priceless and rare ancient tracts for his magnum opus, “Sources of High Magic – A Compleat Dissertation”, was now derailed by the presence of his officious guest.
Not that he had any choice in the matter. If and when the Imperial Bureau of Magical Investigations need the university’s help, only “yes”, “of course”, or the usual “what do you need” will suffice.
The reputation of the IBMI already terrified many an advanced magic user or researcher in the Empire. From the land of the Scots to balmy Italia, the Empire's wardens of magic range with dedication and secrecy. They were thaums more efficient, widely distributed, and infinitely loyal than the Emperor's own secret police, also known as the Imperial Commission on Standards and Measures.
With the absolute power to regulate the practice of magic, enforce its will and decisions, lovingly handled with a heavy iron hand in most instances, a visit from one of its investigators was enough to make an academician wet himself. Its mailed hand, as many realized, had very sharp spikes. But to the credit of its investigators, IBMI visits are always handled with discretion and a minimum of fuss.
Not that the affected distinguished lecturer, researcher or professor would know exactly what was wrong. But the nature of magical research being what it is, it could be possible that a new equation or a daring experiment may have contained an anomalous theorem or a forbidden thaumaturgical element. And in some instances, plain stupidity was the cause of the feared visit and IBMI agents never knock on the door.
Yet in many instances, the violator knew exactly what he was doing. The question though was how the Bureau learned about it. Nobody, at least outside its inner circles and the Emperor himself, knew the secret. Even the Great Tamzgha Empire, with powerful djinns controlled by its ruler, the Mali
k Maghreb, couldn’t uncover the secret.
Lucius didn’t have a clue about it. But he knew that in very serious and exceptionally dangerous instances, it is the Imperatoria Manu Magica, the officially non-existent section of the Bureau, which resolves matters with an even more terrifying ebony and jagged armored hand. Usually in a quick, decisive and fatal manner.
Outside the realm of the academe and magical professionals, the Imperial police took care of the problems created by hedge magicians, unauthorized tinkerers, and those mages belonging to criminal elements. It was a nice dichotomy. It kept clear the distinction between the mere irritants, the dangerous, and the world enders or would be world rulers.
But the learned professor's visitor was not an ordinary IBMI man. He was of that secret section nobody talked about as it didn’t exist. As with his kind, he didn’t look Manu, much less Magica.
Lucius knew better. It was his business to know those small and dangerous sections, agencies, and commissions most didn't expect to be around in this enlightened day and age. But that widely rumored, virtually held as gospel truth, secret imperial commission investigating magical alien visits was pure rat droppings. He knew the task was given to the agency in charge of the Imperial zoos. Not even as a special task but as part of its routine work.
And now his visitor, a portly balding man in his late forties, was puffing away at one of Lucius' cigars. He really couldn’t blame him. The cigar box was inadvertently left at the visitor's table. Good thing the cognac was under lock and key. He knew he better get the meeting over quickly. Get the inquiry and then work on it as fast as he could.
He was highly confident about doing it quickly. Since the time he started being consulted by the agency that didn’t exist, they haven’t brought him a true conundrum worthy of his time.
“What mystery has the esteemed bureau brought me this time,” he politely asked the man who clearly had not properly dusted himself off. Lucius thought the man must really be in a hurry. He even forgot to remove his grey duster, to the detriment of the leather chair. At least he hung his tricorne hat where it should be placed.
The man produced a pen and a notepad. He started scribbling furiously on it. While talking to Lucius about a totally different subject.
“Hello, Professor! I am Stephen. Stephen Swarovski. We just would like to thank you for your help in translating the Odic documents!” the man said, enunciating each word carefully as if he was talking to a man with a hearing problem. While talking, he passed a note to Lucius.
What the Newton is wrong with this man ? thought Lucius as he took the note.
He read the scribble. Such abominable handwriting, he thought. He turned the paper over and wrote his response.
Mages are dissolving? Or is it massage in dipping sauces?
He gave the note back. The man read it, furiously shook his head, and wrote again. This time in block letters. He returned it to Lucius. It now legibly spelled out the message.
MAGIC IS DISAPPEARING.