The Accidental Archmage - Book Five by Edmund Batara (best e ink reader for manga .txt) 📕

“I should throw it away then.”

“Preferably in a place full of strong energies,” advised Birki. “That way, he wouldn’t immediately conclude that you’re onto his trick.”

“All the entities I have talked to are right then—that Loki never gives a gift without an ulterior purpose in mind,” replied Tyler sourly. Fuck this. Double-crossed by that bastard.

“Must be your First-World attitude. The First World must be a lot less harsh in this era to engender such kind of thinking. I would even say First Worlders are spoiled. Probably never had to face down raiding dokkalfrdokkalfr or a solitary jotunn. Remember, you’re in this world now. Nothing, nothing is what it seems. Unless, of course, you obtain a geas of absolute loyalty. Even Dionysus, Viracocha, and the other friendly deities have their motives in befriending you. It might be genuine in many cases, but still, there’s always an agenda at hand.”

Only in video games, Birki. Only in RPG’s, thought Tyler. “How about Rumpr and Hrun?”

“Same story. But I believe they’re quite fond of you. The fact that you found favor in the eyes of a being vastly greater than they are was a welcome addition,” grinned Birki.

“Again, with the agendas, the puppet strings, and the gifts. I swear this world would put the word byzantine to shame,” sighed the mage. A being greater than they are? Another freaking surprise there.

“What’s byzantine?” asked Birki.

“It’s a word, a term, coined in the First World to mean sleazy, underhanded, sometimes murderous, and extremely complicated plans for power and more power, taken after the name of an empire.”

“Now that sounds like Adar, all right. You think Adarian would also be a similar byword?”

“I sure hope not!” exclaimed Tyler. The mage then walked across the barrier to the accompaniment of Birki’s laughter.

The mage opened his eyes. He was back on the desolate plain. Seeing Tyler moving, Habrok moved toward him.

“How long was I sitting there?” he asked the ranger.

“Not long. About two to three minutes,” replied the man. Tyler nodded.

“Hal? X? You heard the problem about Loki’s torc?” the mage asked his guides.

“We did, sire. Our recommendation would be for our colleague to bring the torc as far as he could deep into the middle of the Barrens, and bury it there,” said Hal.

“You didn’t detect it?” he asked the duo, now surprised and extremely concerned about the situation.

“It was impossible to do so, sire. The torc by itself had its own aura. Add to that the various energies surrounding you, and Loki’s taint was invisible to us,” X answered apologetically.

The answer mollified his apprehensions. For a few moments, the worrying idea that Loki somehow gained the ability to bypass Elder energies came to the fore. But it didn’t appease his anger.

“That prick of a Trickster God! He told me, promised me–no tricks!”

“Technically, there was no trickery involved. But the nature of the magic of the torc and its material composition somehow left a peculiar minuscule residue,” Hal explained.

“Still… Ah, fuck it. Any danger for our torc-carrier?”

“None, sire. He could easily evade any predator and we have given him the protocols for minimal visibility, an ability derived from your invisibility spell,” added X.

“Good. How about our squid problem?” The question was asked with a substantial degree of uneasiness. Tyler was nervous about the abilities of the beings he suspected to be Lost Ones. Though they did give him the knowledge of teleporting for a limited distance, their disturbing proficiencies to know where he was and enter his dreams were unwanted and dangerous.

“We’ll solve two problems with one solution. Somewhere along the journey, the energy marker those beings follow, now thankfully isolated, will also be buried where H detects the strongest emanation of energy from this land. The most powerful he could sense along the way. We hope the confusing mess of different strange energies will play havoc with whatever they’re using to determine your location,” answered Hal.

“The ideal place would be near the Barrier, preferably just before the valley. There are stronger energies there with the added benefit of the continued influx of other bizarre powers from the Void Lands,” suggested Tyler, irritation still evident in his tone. He knew the damned gift should have been scrutinized more carefully. Yet without it, he would have died at Scarburg. Fate always dealt him marked cards, he mused, but the present situation provided a possibility of some payback. “If Loki finds his way there, I sure hope those freaking undead would be there, waiting for him.” 

“Excellent idea, sire,” commented Hal. “We’ll take care of it immediately.”

Tyler suddenly felt H leave him and found the torc already missing from his upper arm.

“He can find us when the job is finished?” he asked, anxious about H.

“Of course, sire. Though it would be difficult to maintain communication with him. But he’ll manage.”

He didn’t answer. His thoughts had turned to the waiting miles ahead of them. The mage looked at his companions.

“Time to proceed with the journey,” he told the party.

Without any further commentaries, the small group quickly grouped into their usual formation and, led by Habrok, started walking in the direction of the mountains in the distance. For the first few hours, nothing happened except for Tyndur’s grumbling that the land appeared to lack beasts, monsters, or creatures with which to test his new weapon.

As the group took another break, Habrok again did his usual scouting arrangements. When he returned, the ranger had some news.

“There’s a group of humans ahead of us, down an incline. Around three hundred feet, past those mounds. They’re on the open plain and have formed a defensive perimeter with horses or mules loaded with goods in the middle. They’re armored the Greek way, but the helmets look different. Long spears and pikes, swords and axes, with unusual shields. Large rectangular ones braced on the ground and targas on their arms. They’re being attacked by packs of large brown lizards,” Habrok reported.

“What’s a targa?” asked Tyler.

“Norse word for small round shields. Usually of Skaney origin,” clarified Tyndur.

“Everybody heard Habrok?” the mage asked.

Seeing affirmation, Tyler continued.

“Let’s observe first,” he