The Accidental Archmage, Edmund Batara [read after TXT] 📗

a full day disappeared. Tyler smiled and shook his head. Habrok

on the other hand was fascinated by the man's appetite.

After Tyndur washed down the meal with a few cups of ale, he gave a loud burp, put

his back against the pile of gear stacked near one of the tents, and then looked at

them.

“A puzzle, my mind says. Three men, in a land filled with Ymir's minions. What seek

they, these madmen. A grace from Odin’s eyes? The magic of seidr and kunna? Answer

me.”

Man, this guy appears to have more personalities than a flower has petals.

“I am looking for a man called Starkad. I was told he was in these parts. I need his help

regarding matters of magic.”

“He was but an Erinherjar. No mage was he. So what help could he give?”

“He had some experience with a different form of magic. I hoped he could shed some

light on the matter.

“No need to play with me, mage. Your need seems true. But for now, night's rest

beckons and matters of light are better seen in the rays of the sun. I will see you an

hour after day break.”

With that, Tyndur stood up and walked away. Tyler eyes followed him as he stepped

through two tents. Then he simply disappeared. Jorund and Habrok immediately went

to where he disappeared. Long minutes after, the two came back.

“It seemed he just disappeared into thin air,” said Habrok, “his tracks stopped just after

the tents. No other sign of him.”

“It’s fine, Habrok. He did say he’ll be back tomorrow.”

The night came and passed with a surprising lack of unwelcome visitors. Though Jorund

and Habrok were expecting jotnar or dokkalfr remnants to disturb them. Morning was a

welcome arrival. Spending the night in an isolated area in the wilderness recently

vacated by the enemy was nerve wracking.

Tyndur appeared, or rather manifested, just before the meal. Nobody noticed his

arrival. He was just there in the middle of the campsite.

Nice timing. And nicer trick.

“Hail and good morning, Tyndur. Just in time for our morning meal.”

“Good morning, young mage. Your companions?”

“They eat when they want to. It’s a rule we adopted while we’re on the road. Come,

let’s have out meal together.”

Perfect, Tyler thought. He had told the two to eat ahead and stay away from the

campsite that morning. He wanted to have a private discussion with the hermit.

As they were eating, Tyler took the opportunity to initiate the discussion.

“You don't look to be the type to seek a hermit's life, Tyndur. From what I have seen of you, I would guess you to be a warrior.”

“Secrets we all have, mageling. Like you. I see a mage, on the cusp of awakening. Yet

is he a mage truly? Of another world maybe, reborn to a second life. Elder might,

ancient knowledge, what tidings does he bring?”

Oh, man. Freak me. Another man of prose. It’s bad enough when they speak in plain

sentences.

“You seem to know more of me than I do of you, Starkad.”

The hermit’s face broke into a sad smile.

“Ah, my friend. Mention not names of a frivolous and shallow past. Starkad. Skaldr.

Other names have I. All in the past. It was a sad day. But a glad day. Called to arms,

an unassailable foe awaited. A berserker's wrath, a warrior’s rush. But strength and skill

availed him not, when a wave of an ancient hand stopped him cold.”

“Then what?”

“Caught in bonds of force, the warrior brought to a place of wonder, of ethereal

ascendance. Where Asgard and Valhalla are mere brass trinkets beside the glory of a

throne made of gold. Alas, at the gate I stayed, my mind denied, my abilities flawed.”

“So, you became a hermit. Trying to ascend and be allowed entry.”

“Hah. What would you do in my place? Go back to a thatched barn when a gilded

palace awaits you? Better a life of effort trying to be what I could be than be satisfied

with what I had thought to be the pinnacle of a warrior’s life.”

“Have you learned anything so far?”

“My path and yours do diverge, my young friend. From different worlds we came, and

through different paths we will meet at our common destination in the end.”

“Then my coming here appear to be a fruitless exercise in my search for knowledge

about my abilities?”

“Your path is closed to me, immortal of the world. Master you may be, but of what, I

cannot say. Sagas you won’t need, nor praise of mortal men. For the world is you, your

eyes need but see.”

“You know, the way you say things make it more confusing for me.”

The hermit laughed.

“Of the First World you may be, but thy brain is thick as an ogre’s ass, or of a troll,

though an anvil fits you more.”

“This quest appears to be more and more a illusive journey.”

“Not at all. Consider this. Divergent our paths may be, yet common magical principles

govern; the use and understanding, of an ethereal energy which lights the way to

ascendance.”

Now he sounds like a yogi. Me and my life. Why couldn’t things be simpler? A quest

here, a quest there. Before you know it, you're an overpowered player.

“Plain language please, Tyndur. Where I came from, we are not used to such indirect

ways of talking.”

Tyndur laughed. And laughed.

“Forgive me, Havard. But to talk in meanings plain and simple, do not a magical bent

allow. For horizons to be explored and expanded, lessons need be cloaked in ways

obscure and hidden. If matters be so easy, no farmer nor tradesman will be, for all will

be mages.”

“True.”

“But fret not. Only these lessons you do need learn. Know it and you know all that is

needed for your own path. So, to my words, harken.”

A mortal man thou art,

A human bent, may be;

But thy way is prepared,

Needed knowledge at hand;

Thou limit thyself, a

Mind cage of your making;

There are no boundaries,

Chains of forms to bind thee.

Tyler shook his head.

“Have you ever thought that the Norse gods may be looking for you?

“Hah! The gods? What are they, but of mortal men born. Their palaces of air, of dreams

made, and blind to the paradise that lies beyond the Veil. Paradise I have seen, though

its