The Accidental Archmage by Edmund Batara (read out loud books .TXT) 📕

Tyler noticed that the gap in the wagon circle was still there and many shadowy

attackers were in a melee with those left with the wagons. Even in the dark, he could

see that the defenders were heavily outnumbered. As he slowly crouched back, keeping

to the sides of the wagon, another shout caught his attention. This time from Jorund’s

location.

“DOKKALFR!”

Turning, he saw Jorund ride down an armed figure while the two guards engaged a

group which emerged from the gloom. It was difficult for Tyler to see anything.

Apparently, his enhanced eyesight didn’t work in darkness. Then he noticed Habrok

hurling a javelin at someone and pulling out a long sword.

It was a weird experience for Tyler. He knew he should be scared out of his wits. That

he should be looking for a place to hide, weaponless as he was. Yet he felt a

preternatural calm descend upon him. Although through the calmness he felt, he could

sense something warm throbbing inside his skull, just above the nape of his neck. Some

part of his mind hoped it wasn’t a heart attack.

Then he realized he had stood up and as he looked into the night, he could see a group of figures heading straight for him, weapons at the ready. Swords, spears and two

axes, another part of his mind noted. It was as if his mind was working at an incredible

rate. With several components separately but placidly taking care of matters his senses

observed.

As they drew nearer, he observed they were strangely moving in slow motion. It was as

if his mind was processing reality at a faster rate. His mind had accepted the danger

the attackers represented and he wanted them away. In response, a strong and

strange sensation swelled inside him, it instantly collected itself in his mind’s eye as if asking him what he wanted to do. Tyler abstractedly waved his right hand to and fro at

the group as if erasing them. The slow-moving attackers then vanished, part by part.

Where Tyler’s hand swept, those parts of the attackers disappeared. Chunks of the

bodies not included in the sweep fell into the ground, the darkness mercifully

concealing their bloody nature.

Suddenly, he felt extremely tired to the point of being unable to stand. He slumped

down, his back to a wagon wheel. Barely conscious, he felt carried and loaded on a

horse. Then he could feel the wind on his face as the steed raced, with others riding

beside him.

He struggled to open his eyes but after a moment of success, the exhaustion claimed

him. His last sight was that of the shield wall in the distance, eerily illuminated by light from torches and the two burning wagons behind the defenders, as it was finally

overwhelmed by a mass of attackers, with more enemies following in their wake.

Sunlight on Tyler’s face woke him up. He still felt weak. He opened his eyes and found

himself lying down on a bedroll, surrounded by trees. In front was Jorund, tending to

something being roasted. He couldn’t see a camp fire, only a glowing metal plate under

the food being cooked. He could also see the outline of another man, seated some

distance away, hidden among the trees. Clearly acting as a sentry. He struggled to sit

up. Jorund noticed the movement.

“Ah, my lord, you’re awake.”

The warrior came over and brought him a waterskin. He helped Tyler drink from it,

advising him to take small sips at first. The water helped clear his mind and relieved

some of the tiredness he felt.

“Where are we?” he asked Jorund.

“The hills of Fossegrim, my lord. We’re now hidden in a defile. We’re waiting for Habrok

to come back from his scouting.”

“Fossegrim? This is part of Fossegrim?” Tyler’s stomach tightened in reaction to the news.

“We’re past the boundaries of Fossegrim Forest. People call this area the Hills of

Fossegrim due to its nearness to the forest. Past these hills is the large town of

Bildsfell.”

“My mind is still clouded, Jorund. Can you tell me what happened after I lost

consciousness?”

The man told him the general details. Though Jorund was not in a mood to go into

more specifics. After the dokkalfr sneak assaults on the circled wagons and against

them, Jorund realized that the odds were unfavorable. He made his decision to escape.

While Habrok and the two mercenaries were busy keeping the elusive assailants at bay,

he went to get Tyler. He found him slumped against the wagon, barely conscious. He

grabbed Tyler, put him on a horse and tied him there.

Together with Habrok and one surviving mercenary, they raced out of the ambush area,

in the direction of the hills. Along the way, they managed to rescue two more surviving

mercenaries from the left flank guard. The spare horse from the wagon also went with

them, bringing rations and other gear which Habrok had already loaded on the animal.

The horses they had to let go upon reaching the hills.

Tyler’ memories went back to the scenes he saw the night before, while Jorund went

back to tending the roast. He could see saddlebags and a few bundles propped against

a tree as he watched Jorund walk back. That must be rations and gear, he surmised.

He remembered facing a group of attackers and doing something to them but the

details remained sketchy in his memory. But he also remembered seeing the shield wall

being overwhelmed, like a sand castle washed away by the incoming tide.

He had killed. Humans? Creatures? Monsters? He was not sure, the darkness obscured

details. What he remembered was that they were humanoid. Shorter than the average

human, stocky, and wore black attire though he wasn’t really sure if it was armor of

some sort. Faces were also covered with a black face mask but again he wasn’t sure if

it was part of the helm.

He did feel some remorse in killing them. They’re sentient living beings after all. But the recollection of the strange but cruelly designed weapons they carried didn’t give rise to

any guilt over the deed. They were going to kill him. Though he couldn’t recall exactly

how he defeated them. But the memory did bring home to his mind that this world is a

brutal and violent one. Being told that fact and being a direct participant