Tartarus Beckons by Edmund Batara (reading an ebook .TXT) 📕

life as a monk, warrior, and a commander – that fiery emotion was an effective way of burning right through any despair or feeling of misery. But the mage was also human and the shock of the sudden, terrible tidings was enough to traumatize an ordinary mortal. He trusted his master would quickly recover. Kobu the war leader had seen strong and battle-hardened men rendered catatonic by dire news close to their hearts.

“Move! We’re going to be attacked soon,” cried out the exile, the words addressed to the other members of the company.

But the warning came too late. Out of the corner of his eyes, Kobu could see the rain of flaming orbs headed their way. As a commander, he appreciated the fast reaction time of their enemy, absent-mindedly reflecting that a veteran war leader must be in command. The neatly arranged lines and formations which had greeted them when they first laid eyes on the waiting and unexpected host didn’t matter to him. Battle lines and formations were nice to look at but didn’t matter in the bloody crucible of actual battle. A magical shield would be handy now, reflected the exile, but the kind which the First Mage was the only one capable of creating considering the number of spells being used against them. It also didn’t help that they were on a rise and neatly outlined against the sky. He could teleport out of harm’s way, as could Tyndur, but that would leave the rest vulnerable to the destructive spells.

Suddenly, the deadly spells broke against an invisible barrier several feet away from their exposed position. Extremely surprised, Kobu looked around and saw the rest was as astonished as he was. His gaze finally settled on the newcomer to their party. Alal the Akkadian. The man had a mischievous smile on his face as he looked back.

“Oops. I might have broken one of my promises to the mage. But I couldn’t let them kill all of you, could I?” came the impish explanation.

Somehow, the exile got the feeling that the man was thrilled about using his magical abilities as if he had been prevented from indulging in such activities for a while. Though the use of the phrase all of you did strike a puzzled chord in the exile’s mind. Alal said it in such a way that he obviously believed such spells wouldn’t do any damage to him. Then he saw Tyndur slap Habrok and Astrid on their backs.

“Move! We’re all in danger,” said Tyndur. “Defensive positions!”

But Kobu noticed that the einherjar’s tone had visibly changed. Gone was the anticipatory glee which marked his usual mien before any battle. Tyndur’s voice was now cold and calculated. The exile realized that what Tyler had revealed had acutely affected not only the mage, but also Tyndur. The rest of the company, Kobu included, felt the agony and anguish of Tyler when he told them what happened. How could they not be emotionally shaken when Tyler’s involuntary release of his anguished aura had shared with them what the mage felt? The exile knew they’d all deal with it their own way, but Tyndur appeared to be the most affected among all of them.

“Should I be doing something?” Alal said suddenly. The question was directed at Kobu. “But I really couldn’t do anything unless the First Mage allows it.”

Kobu stared at Alal and the still-kneeling mage, trying to understand what Alal meant. Tyler had his head bowed; mind clearly still mired in the morass of whatever despair trapped the mage. Then he realized the strange thing that Alal said – that he couldn’t do anything without the mage’s consent. The exile immediately dropped on one knee to the ground beside Tyler.

“Sire? Sire? We’re under attack by the dokkalfr. We need you and your guidance. And Alal is asking for your instructions, weird as that may sound.”

Tyler didn’t answer. Kobu could hear the muffled explosions of attack spells as they impacted against Alal’s barrier. They appeared to have increased in intensity and frequency. More mages are now involved, reflected the exile. As he gave Alal a quick glance, the exile noted that the man didn’t appear to be disturbed at the least by the number of spells attacking his barrier. In fact, he had a detached air about him, as if the attacks weren’t happening.

Kobu gently laid an armored hand on Tyler’s shoulder. He didn’t want to intrude on the man’s privacy and inner struggle. The exile, of all people, knew what it meant to lose loved ones in war. He had lost many and even part of his soul. But those were secrets and memories he intended to keep for himself.

“Sire? We are under attack,” the exile repeated, now worried that the mage had really lost his mind.

“I heard you the first time, Kobu. But I can’t think. I am overwhelmed. My mind…” Tyler started to reply in a broken and despairing whisper.

“I understand, sire. Then we will fight to the end on this rise. Though I expected to die at the hands of a truly fearsome creature. Not at the hands of ordinary warriors,” laughed Kobu, trying to get the mage’s spirits up.

“No need to die. Don’t want to die yet. Still have Eira to recover from those bastards. Get Alal to help you. Tell him I told you,” continued the mage, still in a pitiful tone.

At that point, Kobu felt better. Tyler was recovering – his use of the word bastards couldn’t make things clearer as far as the issue of recovering was concerned. It was a start. Though the exile was puzzled as to why he was asked to get Alal to help. He knew the entity was a dark one, but from his experience, such creatures only engage what one could call personalized savagery and mayhem, or indirect meddling when it came to broader human concerns. Kobu had never heard of a dark creature directly involving itself in human battles.

“I’ll tell Alal, sire. This might be far below my station to say, given my