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

to Hel, if need be. My flaming battleaxe was the final stamp on any wavering brain.”

The mage laughed, to the surprise of those around them.

***

As the group entered the door, Tyler saw the jarl, his aged adviser, and the two dwarven leaders. The occupants of the room stood up as they entered.

“Please sit down. Take whatever seat you want. Except you, High Mage. Come sit by my side. This is a war council. No need for formalities,” said the jarl.

“These are Dvalin and Otr. Princes of their respective Houses,” continued the jarl. Dvalin was the one with gleaming armor, while Otr was the other, paler one. “Aage, kindly introduce everyone.”

The mage learned the adviser’s name was Anarr, a renowned warrior and traveler in his glory days. He gave Tyler a humorous smile as they were introduced.

Probably thinking about the possibility of another dwarven spectacle, thought the mage as he grinned back.

“Tyndur, kindly change places with Kobu. I need your words during this meeting.” The exile had taken his seat beside the mage.

“Sorry, Kobu. Tyndur’s knowledge would be invaluable in this situation,” he whispered.

“I understand, sire,” answered Kobu in an amused tone.

“We are here because of the delegations from our dwarven friends who’re beset by the same troubles but worried about the undead prevailing in the coming battle. They have no illusions about the hatred of our enemies for the living. If we fall, they know they’ll be next. So, they have come to offer what aid they can in our time of need. For that, Hedmark extends its gratitude to your peoples and will forever remember. Help given in a time of need is doubly appreciated,” said the jarl, slightly bowing in the direction of the two leaders.

“If we do survive the coming days, let it be known that Hedmark is open to trading and other arrangements with your kingdoms, with separate posts, of course. Let us avoid unfortunate misunderstandings arising from custom and different outlooks,” continued the jarl diplomatically.

Hey, this guy might be young, but he knows his politics! With trade from both dwarven races, Hedmark would be rich and powerful indeed. And I doubt if business would be the only relationship the jarl would have with them. The High King won’t be happy, observed Tyler.

“We are most fortunate that we have a High Mage with us. It is with great respect that I turn over the conduct of meeting to him,” finally added the jarl.

Huh? What happened?

Tyndur leaned over and whispered.

“It’s expected, sire. You’re the highest-ranking person here. Custom demands you handle the proceedings. But there’s a slight complication we have to resolve,” advised the einherjar in the lowest voice he could manage.

“And that is?”

“Which dwarven group gets to talk first. They’re very touchy about those matters. Matter of pride, you see.”

Duckshit.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Bony Regards

Heimdall spake:

47. “Drunk art thou, Loki, | and mad are thy deeds,

Why, Loki, leavst thou this not?

For drink beyond measure | will lead all men

No thought of their tongues to take.”

Loki spake:

48. “Be silent, Heimdall! | in days long since

Was an evil fate for thee fixed;

With back held stiff | must thou ever stand,

As warder of heaven to watch.”

“I am so screwed,” Tyler told Tyndur.

“Like a goat caught between a hungry draken and a mad ogre,” replied the einherjar. “But there’s a solution. Though you might not like it. Leads to more bad blood.”

The mage was about to ask when the sound of furious knocking startled them all. The old adviser quickly went to the door and opened it. A panting warrior stood there, arm braced against the entrance. It was apparent the man ran all the way. Sprinted from the gate, guessed Tyler.

“Begging your pardon, my jarl, but something’s happening at the North Gate. A scout has just come in with word that his fellows are guiding two large groups of dwarves into Hedmark. But they’re being pursued by a horde of undead. Unfortunately, they couldn’t move fast, the dwarves don’t want to leave their heavy weapons behind,” reported the man.

The jarl looked at the two dwarven leaders, caught by surprise by the development. Worry was etched on their faces.

“Those are the reinforcements we were supposed to send to the fortress. I intended to announce it during this meeting, but it seems circumstances have caught up with us,” said Dvalin. “That’s 2,000 dwarven warriors with some siege experts.”

“2,000? We brought 4,000 of our warriors and three ballistae, the Imperii kind!” bragged Otr.

“Ah, but we brought ten of those heavy weapons!” replied the other.

Oh my God. Their men are fighting for their lives, and it’s still a pissing contest in here, thought the aghast mage. And there’s no way the passage of such large contingents would pass unnoticed.

“How many are pursuing them?” asked the jarl.

“It’s hard to tell, sire. The darkness makes it difficult. That’s one reason our scouts remained with them. They had to be guided through our defenses,” said the warrior.

The jarl looked at Tyler.

“Suggestions?”

“Mages to the battlements. They can provide some illumination over the attackers when and if they come within range of the walls. We should know what we’re facing. But I believe a sortie is needed,” replied the mage.

“I feared you would suggest that one. It’s tough fighting in the dark unless they’re in the vicinity of the defenses. Torches have already been prepared in our killing areas. But let’s go to the gate first and assess the situation firsthand,” answered the jarl who then asked the messenger.

“Alarms?”

“Already raised, jarl. Our men are already rushing to their positions,” answered the messenger.

The group went out of the room into the open courtyard to be greeted by the loud ringing sound of iron clappers. He guessed the place was magically warded to prevent noise from coming in and conversations from being heard. He doubted if the technology of perfect soundproofing had been developed in Adar.

Warriors from the shadows stepped forward as the jarl strode through his keep –