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

anger erupted from behind them. It came from the direction of the throne room. Unfortunately, it was in a language unfamiliar to the mage. The group immediately formed their defensive formation.

“Svartalfar and their kin,” observed Tyndur. “I’d know those guttural voices anywhere. Two groups, one using a variant of the language. Cursing each other terribly, and busy bashing each other too.”

Tyler could hear at times the shouts of the jarl, trying to get the combatants to stop. He guessed nobody was brave enough to step between the two fighting groups. A man came running toward them. Seeing the formation before him, with the readied weapons of the companions, he skidded to a stop. He looked toward Aage.

“Begging your pardon, battlemage, but the jarl is urgently requesting that the High Mage and his party proceed first to the throne room.”

“What’s happening? An attack?” asked Aage.

“Nothing of the sort, sire,” said the man. Tyler noticed the messenger had a thin iron band around his neck. “I wasn’t there, but was told that two groups of dwarves were brought to the jarl simultaneously so as not to antagonize each group about protocol. But the minute the groups saw each other, ceremonial mattocks and hammers were brought out, and they attacked each other.”

“Come, please follow me, High Mage,” urged Aage as he led the way at a fast pace. The party followed, keeping to their defense pattern.

“Heh,” chuckled Tyndur after a loud snort. “Let me guess. You brought svartalfar and dvergar together, in the same room, at the same time.”

“I heard about some dwarves due for an audience today but no details other than that. But knowing the jarl, the first audience would just be the formal introduction. Another meeting would be set for whatever business the visitors have with him. A separate audience for each group. He clearly didn’t expect this,” replied Aage who was now walking quicker. Tyndur now laughed hard and long. The einherjar clearly knew more about the dwarves than the ordinary mage.

The party reached a door. The noise coming from the room beyond had become impossible. Angry shouts, the clang of metal weapons, and the cry of the wounded filled the air.

“Now those are imaginative curses and insults. Even the wounded insert inspired expletives in their cries of agony. Talented in the art, that I could say,” commented the einherjar.

Tyler assumed the door was the entrance by which the jarl entered and exited the throne room. Aage opened it after making a few passes of his hand over the latch.

Magically protected too, thought the mage. No surprise there. It’s the jarl’s personal door.

The door opened to a scene of indescribable bedlam. The jarl was standing on his throne, with a wall of guards in front of him, shields held to the front. He was still shouting at the warring groups to stop and settle down. Unfortunately, the dwarves were oblivious to what he was saying. Tyler’s party quickly entered the hall with Aage proceeding directly to the jarl. In front of Tyler were his companions, though they had different reactions to the chaotic and violent sight before them. The einherjar clearly found the fray extremely funny, Kobu looked on with an amused expression, while Habrok couldn’t believe his eyes.

But the First Mage could see nobody was dead yet among the battling mob. There were wounded ones, but he could see the armor of dwarves protected them from life-threatening injuries. One group had dark armor and armed with small mattocks, while the other had shiny protective gear and hammers reduced in size. The ceremonial gears of both sides were beautiful, though now dented and scuffed. Almost every inch was covered with decorative engravings and runic inscriptions.

“High Mage! Do something about this! They won’t listen to me! I can’t have my throne room as a battleground!” cried out the jarl.

The shout interrupted Tyler’s examination of the dwarves. They did look like the dwarves portrayed in movies back on Earth, taller though. The battling forms could be mistaken for short and stocky men. Most had beards – braided, tied, or arranged in other designs. Many even had thin gold ringlets in their hair and beards. Gold jewelry adorned a few of the individuals. At the jarl’s bellow, a few of the dwarves in front of the jarl stopped fighting and looked toward Tyler’s group. The words High Mage obviously penetrated through the fog of battle for a few of the participants. But the rest continued with the messy melee.

“They’re enjoying themselves too much, sire,” commented Tyndur. “A call to order might be needed.”

“Do you know how to speak their language?” the mage quickly asked.

“Only a few words, sire. But they understand the language of Skaney well enough.”

“What do you want to do, sire?” came the query from X.

“Oh, you’re back. A sonic boom among those squabbling dwarves when I raise the staff. Not enough to hurt them but to shock them back to their senses,” Tyler said immediately. The guides must have come back when the party was hurrying to the jarl. He didn’t notice them returning to the staff.

Tyler raised his weapon. Instantly, a blast erupted in the middle of the ongoing commotion. It was a small one and covered only the area of the dwarven rumble. Even so, the party and the jarl with his guards were buffeted by the displaced air and briefly deafened by the explosive sound. As for the dwarves, those in the middle of the effect flew through the air and crashed against the walls and the ceiling of the throne room. Dwarves crashed into each other. Others tumbled to the far corners of the room. The middle of the room was cleared and piles of moaning dwarves now greeted their eyes. A few who were able to stay on their feet headed their way but were stopped by an invisible barrier the guides had set up across the room, protecting the side of Tyler and the jarl. The fighting stopped.

“Sire, may I be excused for