The Accidental Archmage: Book Nine: The Dragon Houses

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  The company had already formed its usual defensive formation, with Tyler in the middle. He glanced at the seer. Whatever tension filled Thyma had now disappeared. The mage took it as a good sign. A fight just before they depart wasn’t in their interest. The expenditure of magic alone might attract creatures they’d rather avoid. The spell enabling them to leave would also cause a ripple in the magical field, but there’s a difference. They’d be gone by the time anybody or anything arrived to investigate.

  The approaching entity vanished and just as quickly reappeared before them with arms held out to the side and palms open. The mage took it as a gesture of peace, especially when he could immediately see the woman’s appearance. She had sharp features which blended prettily into a classically beautiful face. Long black hair tied at the rear flowed down her back. The sides were braided, and a luminous golden headband kept it in place. Her feet, clad in fine leather boots marked by crisscrossed cords of the same material, were now on the ground.

  She appeared to be in her twenties, though Tyler knew the appearances could deceive, especially where deities were concerned. This close, he could sense her magical aura. It was familiar and suffused with the usual energy. Not a whit of the peculiar tinge that marked Adar’s flow of magic for its native inhabitants. But the deity looked tired, and her eyes gazed at them hopefully. The expression surprised Tyler. It was the look of someone who hadn’t seen a human for a long time. Excitement was there, but hope predominated.

  “Keltoi.” The statement came from Thyma. Yet there was no malice or threat in her tone.

  “An Aetolian. The vagaries of my already unlucky fortune brought me to this unhappy happenstance,” replied the woman, her green eyes assessing the seer. A slight disappointment colored her words.

  Tyler hastily moved to the front. From what he heard, the goddess before him was of First World origin, making her a friendly in his judgment. Deities of Banna would probably attack them on sight. Yet her presence on the Forbidden Isle was a mystery, and the guarded interaction between the two goddesses was a threatening puzzle. Handled incorrectly, the pair would be at each other’s throats, though his money was on Thyma.

  “Greetings,” said Tyler as he moved to the fore. To his wonder, magic rolled off his tongue, and his salutation was in Gaelic. Apparently, he had gained the ability to communicate in the needed language. Thyma didn’t look surprised at the development. She obviously expected the mage to have the skill. Once again, Tyler was reminded of the high expectations of mortals and deities from being an Archmage.

  If only they knew, he reflected. Yet admission of shortcomings was a weakness that his enemies could ruthlessly exploit. Gullen’s astounded face when he confessed his absolute lack of knowledge about freezing spells during the Battle for Sterkstein’s Throat showed such beliefs.

  “I am surprised to see a deity of the First World on this forsaken land. There’s a proscription, if I remember correctly. Though I have to admit my inexcusable lack of knowledge about who you are,” continued Tyler calmly.

  The woman gave an amused laugh.

  “Nor did I expect a human, even of power, to recognize a minor deity of a small toutâ. I am Ritona, a dêwâ, a goddess, of the Trēueri. A protector of travelers. I wasn’t aware of any prohibition declared by the pantheons. But then again, we came to this land long before it was isolated by the barrier that surrounded it.”

  “We?” asked Thyma. It looked as if she had regained her composure. The mage wasn’t sure what brought on her sour mood earlier. Whatever it was, it was in the past, probably on the First World, and wasn’t an amicable one.

  “A group of us passed through the first portals and explored this world, looking for territory our people could settle. Our quest brought us here, and the sudden appearance of the arcane wall trapped the survivors of our party. We couldn’t pass and return to our people.”

  “Where are they now?” inquired Tyler, looking around furtively. So far, he didn’t perceive anybody else.

  “Gone. I alone survived. This land is unforgiving and hostile to our kind,” replied Ritona soberly. Despite the placid mien, the mage could sense fear in her voice, mixed with anger and grief. Her companions must have perished a long time ago, assumed Tyler. If any of the unfortunate events were recent, the pain would still be fresh and immediately apparent. At least, she appeared to have maintained her sanity.

  “How did you maintain your existence? This far from your tribe, the belief needed to keep you whole must be almost non-existent,” observed the seer. While Tyler appreciated being direct, the bluntness of the question seemed to be callous. Ritona had been trapped here for a long time and seen friends perish. He wouldn’t be surprised if their group was mercilessly hunted down.

  “The energy of this place sustained me. When the wall came into being, a subtle change in its magic also happened. It wasn’t enough to increase my power, but at least it kept me whole.”

  “What do you wish of us?” Tyler asked. They could talk some more in the proper place and time, not while in dangerous territory. Then he recalled that deities couldn’t pass through the barrier created by the Avatar. The mage suddenly realized what Ritona was going to request. Beg, even.

  Oh, shit.

  Chapter Six

  Native Son

  The mage knew that the company’s attention was on him the moment Ritona uttered her request. Their gazes were almost physical in impact, tiny needles boring prickly holes in his back. Tyler forced himself to ignore the interest and didn’t glance back. He continued looking at the Gaelic spirit, trying to look as if he was considering what Ritona begged. His mind was trying to comprehend the incredible suffering and anguish the minor goddess had gone through, and the mage couldn’t wrap his head around such a torment. Yet, he could empathize with the reality of being alone in a strange and unfathomable land.

  It was, as expected, a wish to join them in leaving the island—a well-nigh impossible appeal. From what Tyler knew, there were two barriers, an ancient one created by the Avatar and another by the pantheon heads when they found the welcome not to their liking. He wasn’t sure if the pantheons knew about the former. His empathy aside, information about Banna was valuable. The mage doubted if anyone could say they had been on the island long enough to observe its inhabitants. Ritona and her group might have spent it hiding and on the run, but it didn’t mean they learned nothing.

  The heads of the northern deities, Skaney and Hellas, had long realized the existence of an ancient power, not of the First World, on Adar. Their lack of surprise about Asag and the events involving the Dokkalfr Range showed it. Maybe they preferred to avoid waking it, which was absurd since it was impossible for such an entity to be unaware of their presence, and he knew it was painfully cognizant of the damage and destruction the First World had wrought on its domain.

  The inaction might also be a brilliant course of action since the Avatar had so far mostly let them be, though the mage credited it to the interference of another more powerful being. But there was no telling how far a world’s patience could stretch. Still, Tyler suspected that their collective pride refused to accept that a sleeping neighbor might be more powerful than all of them combined. They got their noses rubbed in the dirt by three Elders in the past, and another humiliating drubbing by one entity would really screw up inflated egos.

  Se-Osiris’s use of the magic of Thaut enabled them to pass the latter, mulled the mage. The formidable god was one of the leading lights of their pantheon. The mage wouldn’t be surprised if they involved Thaut in the barrier’s creation. He was, after all, a god of knowledge and artifice. But the Avatar’s barrier was a crucial complication. It allowed the passage of humans and demigoddesses – even a human spirit like the ghost of a Kemetian mage – but not deities of purely magical nature. Ritona didn’t fit any of the exceptions. He wanted to help the goddess. The situation uncomfortably reminded him of one visitor unceremoniously dumped into an unfamiliar world.

  Finding a way for Riton
a to pass through the Avatar’s wall depended on the entity’s goodwill. But calling its attention wasn’t an option. Somehow, Tyler knew the number of favors he could ask was limited, and Ritona’s plight didn’t meet the Avatar’s criteria. He could ask his double to try to destroy it, but that route entailed attracting its ire, and the mage didn’t want to go that far. Tyler enjoyed an excellent relationship with the Avatar and accepted that there were valid reasons for Banna’s isolation. Intentional or unintentional genocide being one of many plausible threats. The fate of Sarva’s people was illustrative of the stark reality of asinine decisions, blind hostility, and insatiable greed.

  “A problem, brother?” Given the circumstances, Tyler expected the intrusion. Unlike his guides, this trespasser could talk to him anytime it wanted. The mage wasn’t happy, but one couldn’t really suppress a vocal, intimate part of one’s mind.

  “I want to help Ritona,” he answered simply.

  “That’s a power I know nothing about,” replied his twin, referring to the blockade. “It isn’t Elder energy or the usual magic one finds in this world. To be frank, nothing about it is familiar. Unless you want to let me try destroying it?”

  “No, no. A… friend created it,” Tyler replied immediately.

  “Ah, I know what you mean. That part of your memories. Nope. Nothing here. Call if you want the demolition option.”

  ***

  He quickly went over his choices again. Almost all involved tearing the barrier apart. They only differed in the mode and manner of knocking it down. Nothing appeared workable. The mage drew a quantity of Elder energy and let it flow to a point close to the barrier. A violent reaction threatened to erupt from the wall. He promptly withdrew. It was a very sensitive spell, Tyler concluded. He wasn’t keen on testing the interaction between the two powers. The area where they positioned would probably collapse into the sea. Then the mage noticed the attempt revealed that his senses were keenly aware of the energy powering the barrier. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have even perceived the aggressive response.

  Could it be? he wondered. The Avatar called Tyler an Archmage, or to be precise, an Archmage-to-be. He had long believed the term referred to what the deities of the First World had coined—a human with abilities approaching that of a god. A minor one, probably, but still with impressive skills and command of magic. The mage never thought that the Avatar was referring to an Archmage of her own. Her gift of a minuscule portion of her own power should have been a sign, reflected Tyler. Damn. Why doesn’t she come up with her own label? I wouldn’t be this confused if this world had some sort of magical copyright protection.

  As full comprehension sank in, the mage tried to focus on his immediate concern—the arcane barrier. At the back of his mind, the stark reality of bearing the enormous weight of dual responsibilities was eating away his reserves of confidence. Two worlds. Two forbidding, powerful blocs, one the essence of Adar itself. The burden imposed by the Elder race. Add the promises he made. The complications hounding him. They all seemed insurmountable tasks.

  The sudden awareness staggered him. An unwelcome chill caressed his flesh and his sight distorted. His surroundings were images in a distorted mirror, forcing the mage to close his eyes. Even as he fought warning shudders, Tyler pushed the fear and tension aside. He compelled himself to breathe deeply and calmly, and in the isolated, dark privacy of his mind, turned his thoughts away from the swarm of screaming concerns. As the weighty and demanding worries receded, the mage dug into the energy forms within him and quickly examined what he had. Parallel glowing streams waited for him.

  He discovered to his shock that though there were three main currents, faint ripples of other fluxes were also visible. The primary energies were all of bright, golden hues and varied only in their luminescence. He observed the minor waves had a different selection of colors—from a light blue to a glittering black. Tyler disregarded them, though resolved to investigate their nature when time allowed it.

  Yeah, when time’s available, he thought sarcastically. I’ll probably burn myself inside and out, not knowing what the hell happened.

  Two of the three were familiar to him as old friends as they shone in in his mind’s eye. The more vivid one he assumed to be of Elder origin, and it was the first time he has seen it in such quantity. The other had a subdued quality. It was shining, but its glow was easily surpassed by the neighboring strands. Even without the color, it was easily recognizable—the pervasive scent of the usual magic on Adar. It brought with it a memory of a burning wire. But even under the strongest spell he had cast, it merely left behind a trace of an ozone-like smell. Tyler wasn’t sure if he was the only one who could sense such a trait. Nobody had told him about it. Elder energy, in comparison, had a strong metallic undertone.

  The flow of the final primary current wasn’t as ample as the other two. It was visible, yet its brilliance eclipsed by the luminance of its Elder brethren. It looked and behaved the same way – as a straight, liquid rope made up of several cords, each curling around a central core. The mage knew such representations were what his mind deemed fit to interpret the sources of power. With their innate capacity to bend natural forces, the actual appearance of such magical fuel would be beyond his comprehension. His guides might be able to tell him, but they were unavailable.

  His mental focus aimed at the third undulating wave, sweeping aside the others. It was the first time Tyler had scrutinized the Avatar’s gift. So far, he had ignored it. His guides didn’t know how to deal with it, nor did he. Now, circumstances had forced him to examine its utility. Unlike the other two, the energy unexpectedly smelled earthy. That caught him by surprise. It reminded him of what’s left after a storm – the scent of damp, fresh soil underscored by a sharp tang.

  Don’t cross the streams, he grinned inwardly, remembering a famous movie line. Yet he suspected that the saying held true in his situation. The contrasts were distinct, and if he was to go with his gut instincts, a warning. Make that don’t cross the fucking streams.

  ***

  Tyler drew back and the sparkling tableau of different energies returned. His mind went to the third current, willing the emergence of a luminous tendril. Then his attention reverted to his usual surroundings. The released energy didn’t erupt from a specific spot. The mage initially felt it around him, though it speedily regenerated in front of his position. A quick use of his enhanced acuity as it gathered revealed it formed from his aura, but his body’s nimbus bothered him. Where it was pure bright light before, a thin dark shade now danced around its edges.

  That’s Tom, the grim observation arose, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. His presence is more pervasive than I expected.

  He stood close to the edge of a cliff where turbulent waves battered the suffering rocks below. The sound of the surging tide was loud, though the disturbed seawater didn’t reach as high as his position. Tyler was mindful of his stance and made sure of his grip on his staff. It was already pressed to the ground at an angle. Hopefully, it would help him brace against any sudden gust or force emanating from the test. The wind buffeted him, but not enough to make him struggle. But his confidence was buttressed by the nearby presence of the exile. Kobu wouldn’t allow him to fall if the wind suddenly changed direction or the experiment he was conducting resulted in an explosive conclusion.

  The wisp of energy elongated and reached out to a point close to the barrier. It was a test, and the mage wanted to be sure the connection could be ended straight away if another hostile interaction occurred. The distance to the wall wasn’t far, around thirty feet. Still, the consequences of letting the two connect were unknown. All he had was a strong intuition that what he released was of the same kind of energy. Tyler couldn’t even use his scrying to inspect the barrier. It was a type clearly different from what composed the wall. As an isolated spell, it would definitely trigger a reaction.

  With bated breath, the young mage waited for a few seconds, his attention entirely on the exploring energy string. Nothi
ng happened. A deep breath and he gingerly moved the questing tendril forward. It touched the wall—still no adverse reaction. Yet Tyler swiftly sensed the incredible reserve of magical power the barrier represented, and he recognized its earthy composition. Greatly relieved, the mage merged the strand with its surface and observed that it overlaid a tiny part.

  I guess that represented what I sent to it, concluded the mage. Then he split the neat circle of energy into two, forcing an opening in the barrier. Tyler found no resistance to his effort, and to his astonishment, felt a flexible structure. He changed the shape of the breach to a triangle, and the wall followed his wish.

  Damn. I’m stoked.

  ***

  His grin as he looked back at the company fetched smiles and relieved expressions, except from the Romanii mage. Cassius had a thoughtful air, and his eyes wandered to the sea. Tyler wondered if the Romanii could see the barrier. If he could, that would speak volumes about his magical prowess. But he had a few more minor hurdles to overcome. With any luck, Se-Osiris would have reassuring answers. Tyler called the Kemetian over.

  “How exactly does that travel thing work? Specifically, are we shifted to another form? The size of the company as transported? Is the link permanent in location, or does it depend on the spellcaster?” The Archmage was mindful of the potential complications. The size of the opening for one, and another would be whether a specific position would be needed.

  “It’s a divine ability. Details are hidden from me. But from what I could tell, the spell determines the point of contact, assuming the connection from the desired destination is available. Whether transformation is involved, I don’t believe that happens. Magic encloses the individual or party desiring to travel and then uses the ether for passage. But that’s for mortals. Deities, their essence being of the same nature, shift their forms and course their way through the magical field,” replied the spirit mage cautiously. Tyler appreciated the wary answers. The more powerful a mage was, the more arrogant and pretentious the disposition. Se-Osiris appeared to be an exception.