The Accidental Archmage - Book Five: Loki's Gambit

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  I swear they’re faster than I expected them to be. Some even evaded blades! Is it the lessened body mass? wondered the frustrated mage.

  “Hal? Leave the bowmen to X and do the approaching warriors,” Tyler told the guides. He knew he had reached his limit when faced with bobbing and weaving heads on top of moving bodies.

  “You need to crush or slice the heads!” called out the mage to the companions.

  “Damn. A waste of four arrows to every successful hit,” murmured Habrok.

  He turned to the ranger.

  “Don’t tell me you’re running out of shafts,” the mage told Habrok.

  “No, sire. Refilled my quivers at that settlement. Packed them full too. I just don’t like wasting arrows. Four to one is a joke.”

  “Keep shooting. We’ll get more arrows when we reach Hedmark.”

  The formation of undead warriors suddenly opened up. Through their ranks ran a number of axe-wielding figures, each only clad in ragged wolf or bear skins. They were unbelievably fast, and the sight of naked, decaying and filthy bodies wearing only torn and ragged animal pelts almost made him puke.

  “Berserkr!” warned Habrok as he unleashed a flurry of his arrows, getting one whose body continued tumbling after its head exploded.

  Tyndur and Kobu strode forward to meet the revenants. Tyler, for his part, couldn’t help but wonder how frayed, desiccated, and crumbling flesh and bones managed to stay together. Hal got five of the rushing warriors, then the leading berserkers were within reach of the two companions in front of Tyler.

  Kobu abruptly vanished and reappeared above one, his kanabo already raised for the killing blow. As the exile struck, the metal skull cap was flattened, and the whole head was crushed into the undead’s torso. Kobu then immediately disappeared. Tyler saw him next beside another revenant, the spiked mass of metal already swinging sideways to bash the head. The force was so strong, it didn’t only crush the head, but also removed it from the still running body.

  Tyndur approached the fight in a different manner, preferring to slice off part of the skull, but after he had rendered the opponent relatively immobile by incredibly rapid slashes against the legs and arms. All to the accompaniment of his shouts of “swina bqllr!” That curious, vulgar battle cry seemed to be one of the warrior’s favorites. The last time the mage heard it was back at Viracocha’s temple.

  The mage observed that the einherjar never targeted the torso of his opponent, although with his flaming battleaxe, every victim of Tyndur’s onslaught was left in a pyre of flames. To a certain extent, the mage could see the einherjar’s movements had a certain grace, a flow, to them. The warrior definitely had his own style, though not as refined or elegant as that of the movements of Kobu or Astrid, but effective nonetheless. Even the way he evaded the strikes of the berserkers was impressive, especially in the way the einherjar’s defensive movements were incorporated into his attacks.

  In the unfolding battle before him, Tyler noticed that Tyndur never blocked. He moved to one side as his opponent attacked with its weapon, and then rapidly struck in various combinations which left his opponent with a partially cut up or bashed skull, while also on fire.

  Then the fight with the advance group was over. It took just under a minute by the mage’s calculations. The barrage of arrows had also stopped; X had put an end to that problem.

  But Tyler noticed the main group was nearer, and clearly lessened in number, though he believed Hal’s change of targeting priorities after he was done with the berserkers had something to do with it. Kobu and Tyndur were again in their previous positions, and he could see the einherjar beaming beatifically.

  He got his quota of fighting for the day, thought Tyler. Then he noticed the flaming bodies Tyndur left behind had ignited the dry leaves and shrubs on the ground. A forest fire was already starting to his left.

  Shit. We’re going to be burned to death, thought the mage as he frantically searched his memory on any applicable forest spell. He came up with nothing. Fuck this. I should have asked Eira for lessons.

  “Tyndur! Habrok! Put the fire out! I’ll handle these insomniac bastards!”

  “Insomniac, sire?” asked Habrok as he passed the mage on his way to the growing fire.

  “They’re dead. They should be sleeping,” Tyler testily answered.

  The mage looked at the enemy with Kobu taking up a protective stance at his side. They were barely fifty feet away, though steadily being whittled down by X and Hal.

  Fifty to sixty, my foot! There’s probably 100 or more, including the archers, observed Tyler. Then his eyes fell on the ring given by Sarva. Energy, huh? Let’s see if this one can play havoc with them.

  He concentrated on the ring which became warm to the touch.

  “You called, Master?” came a deep, bass voice.

  “Yes. There’s a group of revenants in front of us. Go and play with them.”

  “As you wish. The Lord Sarva might have failed to mention it, but I only have sufficient power to exist on your plane for around fifteen of your minutes. The energy I need to manifest and fight is enormous, hence the limitation.”

  “Fifteen minutes is enough. I’ll try to find a way to extend your time later. Go. Play.”

  A huge, armored translucent bull with enormous horns abruptly appeared five feet away from the mage. It looked like any bull from Earth, except it stood ten feet at the shoulders and was clad in what appeared to be armor plate. Even its head was covered with a faceplate. But Tyler could feel the disruptive aura around it. It was a very powerful ancient spell, that he could tell. It looked back at him, bowed, examined the incoming mass of undead for a few seconds, and then charged.

  What followed was pure mayhem. The bull crashed into the shield wall, throwing undead left and right, crushing whole bodies in its path. Then it proceeded to stamp revenants into the ground, mashing their bodies into gross unrecognizable lumps. Weapons passed harmlessly through its form. It worked insanely fast, and in a short while, the mass of undead was a revolting crushed collection of long-dead flesh and bones, decorated here and there with broken weapons, armor, and shields.

  Tyler himself was shocked at the spirit’s violent handiwork and the swiftness with which it was performed. His gaze went to his companions. Their reaction to what he witnessed was similar to the astonishment he felt. Habrok’s jaw hung in amazement, Tyndur’s eyes bulged, and even the exile’s interest was clearly caught by the ferocity of the bull’s attack. The mage had to admit it was the craziest thing he had ever seen. It could be funny to some extent, especially when one recalled how the bull stomped on the fallen revenants like a jackhammer, but still, it was impressively fast and furious violence.

  The spirit got rid of the few undead at the back of the formation and then inspected its handiwork. Satisfied, it went back to Tyler, but kept the same distance from the mage. It bowed again.

  “That was impressive. And thank you,” the mage said.

  “It is a pleasure to serve, Master.”

  “Do you have a name?” he asked.

  The spirit took some time to answer.

  “I apologize, Master. It has been too long since I was on a plane other than the ring. I believe I was called Curavali, or cyclone, in one of the languages of Earth.”

  “You appear to be not the ordinary sort of spirit. The energy you exude does not match any magical spell I know of,” observed Tyler.

  “I was created as a gift to the lord Sarva by an ancient people, not of this world and now gone, their empire lost beneath the seas.”

  “You now wish to return to the ring?” asked the mage.

  “With your permission, Master, I would like to stay until the enchantment runs out. It had been a while since I walked in your reality,” answered the spirit.

  “I wouldn’t call millennia a while,” smiled Tyler. “You have my permission. We still have a fire to put out.”

  The fire appeared to be beyond the efforts of the two warriors to contain it. The men had pu
t out the small fires near the trees, but the main conflagration had grown. Watching its progress as individual flames reached out and joined together, Tyler could see the danger posed by fiery embers floating on the breeze and starting more fires in the woods.

  The mage looked at Tyndur's weapon, slung on the einherjar's back. It still had some flames around the blade. He looked at the roaring fire again.

  “Hey, Tyndur! Your axe is still aflame,” the mage shouted.

  “It's all right, sire. No telling if there's a skulker left,” answered the warrior.

  “Can you try using your will on the fire? Put it out,” said Tyler.

  The einherjar gawked at Tyler as though the mage was losing his mind.

  “Humor me. Treat the fire as if it came from your axe. And I am not going mad,” reassured the mage. The fire did come from your weapon.

  Shaking his head, Tyndur faced the blaze. Habrok was on the other side, trying to make sure it didn't spread to the trees. The einherjar stared at the roaring flames. After several seconds, the rest of the party could see a visible reduction in the intensity and size of the fire. Tyndur kept on concentrating until the conflagration was but the size of a small brushfire. Habrok immediately moved in and put it out with dirt.

  “How did you know that was going to work?” asked the very puzzled einherjar.

  “The fire was started from the flames coming from your axe. It stood to reason that the energy of the magical fire was still in the blaze. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the power of the flames of your weapon also sustained the blaze. Probably made it bigger than it should be,” explained Tyler.

  Tyndur gravely thought about what the mage said for a while.

  “That does open a lot of possibilities, sire,” he finally commented.

  “Why does that statement worry me?” commented Tyler uneasily as he walked along the trail. The spirit bull was waiting for them farther ahead, though its attention was not on them. It was busy looking at its surroundings. The rest of the party fell into their usual formation.

  “A powerful spirit, that one,” Kobu told the mage as they walked toward the huge armored bull.

  “I agree, but I doubt if anybody could create such a creature anymore. That particular form was the result of a magical spell created by an empire now lying beneath the sea,” replied Tyler.

  “Lost wisdom. I doubt if it came from a civilization on Adar. Such treasures are among the jealously-guarded secrets held by the most powerful magical practitioners. Which was actually the problem – they held on too long to such arcana that when they died, knowledge of the spells died with them,” commented the exile.

  “That was for the best – the spread of such dangerous lore could have endangered everybody, even the world itself. No telling if some mad genius would come up with a world-ending twist to one such spell,” replied Tyler.

  “I guess you're right, sire. And I believe it is time for the spirit to take its leave. It's fading away.”

  Tyler saw that the exile was right. The huge bull was slowly disappearing. It glanced at them and gave a final bow before it was gone.

  “Polite fellow,” pointedly observed Habrok.

  ***

  They walked the few miles down to the ridge above the flat terrain separating Hedmark from the Barrens. Unlike Scarburg, the area wasn’t a gap in the sense of a narrow channel between mountains. The land was a wide expanse by itself, with settlements serving double duty as redoubts. The fortress-town served as the final barricade against onslaughts from the Barren Lands.

  Hedmark itself was a relic of a more bloody and violent past, a time when humans were struggling to wrestle control of the land from the creatures who made it their own. The region of Namdalen didn’t include Hedmark initially, but the need to remove any threat coming from the Barrens demanded a narrowing of the open frontiers.

  But the mage was unaware of the area's turbulent past, though the mage was curious how such a force of undead was in the woods. From the way the revenants were organized and fought, they must have been one cohesive group when they were alive. Taking advantage of the relative safety of their present surroundings, a conclusion reinforced by the natural sounds coming from the woods, the mage decided to ask the two companions of Skaney origin about the matter.

  “Habrok, do you have any idea about why such a group of undead is in these woods? If there's no rational explanation for it, then we’re heading into a trap, or somebody knows about our movements. Or it could be both,” said the mage.

  “No idea, sire. I did my hunting work to the south and the east. Job pickings were scarce in this region. Only the occasional foray by creatures of the Barrens troubled the area, easily handled by the doughty warriors and inhabitants of Hedmark. No mercenary would be foolish enough to accept a commission leading the hunt into the accursed lands. And as I mentioned, the inhabitants are hardy folk, which in turn means any job offer would be the death of any professional mercenary group,” replied the ranger.

  “I believe I can answer that, sire,” spoke Tyndur. “You see, this land was not originally part of Skaney. It took a long time and uncounted lives before the warriors of Skaney were able to beat back the monsters and other creatures infesting the place. If memory serves me right, this area was a favorite haunt of the sons of Fenrir – Skoll and Hati,” remarked Tyndur. “Though the shapeshifters we encountered werewolves and bears. At first, we thought they were rogue Úlfhéðnar or Svinfylking practitioners, but we found such opponents to be exactly what they appeared to be. Damned nuisances.”

  “I am not familiar with the terms Úlfhéðnar and Svinfylking, Tyndur. Care to explain?” asked the mage.

  “Úlfhéðnar refers to wolf-men but is also a term used to refer to the berserkr. Svinfylking means boar-warrior, followers of the god Freyr and the goddess Freyja. Likes battle-boars, those two. Rogue half-beasts do exist. Half-mad too,” explained the einherjar.

  “Thanks. Was the effort done through individual jarls or by High King?” inquired Tyler, curious about the extent of the High King's authority.

  “Individual lordly buffoons at first. When a sizable army of one of the jarls was lost, the High King called a ting at Hirdburg, his capital. Well, he should be concerned. His city was directly in the path of any massive incursion.”

  “What’s a ting?” asked Tyler.

  “A lords’ assembly. They recognized the danger of allowing such a wide border to face the Barrens, the defense line being from Barholm down to Stenhus, a vast distance to defend. Then began concerted efforts to push back the infested area, many warriors’ lives sacrificed in a campaign across many years. Armies were decimated, expeditions lost, initial settlements razed to the ground, settlers massacred. It was a costly period for Skaney; people still remember the enormous cost and effort to secure this region,” said Tyndur, softly adding, “I know. What I recall tells me I fought here. Desperate battles, not against men.”

  Then he glanced at the three listeners who were clearly interested in what he was narrating. Tyndur grinned at his companions.

  “I had my fill of fighting, that's for sure. Don't ask me about what we fought, that part appears quite vague in my recollections. Rest assured we got used to facing fangs, claws, and magic. But we won. Though I am not certain if I met my death here or somewhere else,” continued the einherjar who suddenly shook his head vigorously.

  “Stupid memory flashes. All that comes is a sense of confused fighting against crawling, running, and… some flying beasties too. Wait. More blasted unclear memories,” said Tyndur who had stopped and closed his eyes for a few seconds. Then he looked at his companions.

  “I believe I died here,” said the warrior softly.

  At those words, the other companions didn't know what to say. It took a few seconds, but Tyler then walked forward and slapped the einherjar on the shoulder.

  “I have a feeling you'll get your chance to kill them all over again. Let's see if we can find the one who killed you. You've improved
beyond what you were before and now have that arsonist's axe into the bargain.”

  The einherjar chortled loudly.

  “I think it was a big red drake. One of the wild ones from the Dreki Mountains,” replied Tyndur.

  "It could still be alive, you know. They're almost immortal, being magical creatures," observed the mage.

  "I sure hope so, but I remember it had a frosty breath. That's what got me. Being red, I thought I was going to face fire."

  “Aren’t they supposed to range in the south? Deeper in that cluster of mountains?” asked Habrok.

  “Not in those days. There was a lot of prey here then. It attracted predators of all kinds. Not that the creatures here were always the meal. Barren creatures were usually bigger and more ferocious,” clarified Tyndur.

  “And some are back from the dead. At least those which didn’t get eaten, bones and all,” remarked the ranger. “I should get myself the appropriate weapon. My longsword, even with its enhanced ability, seems more appropriate for cleaning their fangs after a meal.”

  Freyja spake:

  31. "False is thy tongue, | and soon shalt thou find

  That it sings thee an evil song;

  The gods are wroth, | and the goddesses all,

  And in grief shalt thou homeward go."

  Loki spake:

  32. "Be silent, Freyja! | thou foulest witch,

  And steeped full sore in sin;

  In the arms of thy brother | the bright gods caught thee

  When Freyja her wind set free."

  Chapter Fourteen

  A Dipshit of a Day

  Tyler watched with apprehension as Habrok approached him at speed.

  Bad news. The unbidden insight arose in his mind.

  The group was hidden on top of a rise several feet from what Tyndur mentioned as the beginning of the flat area of Hedmark. The stone-paved road leading to the town would be visible the moment they started moving down the escarpment; there were thick shrubs and clumps of trees along the way but nothing which would prove to be a problem. Cultivated fields would also begin to be a common and welcome sight, the einherjar told the company. Unfortunately, now it seemed the ranger had seen some complication waiting for them.