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

seems to be the norm."

Ivar paused for a while, clearly thinking about the subject.

"Imagine dropping into the middle of a vast ocean, the mouth of a volcano, rocky terrain, a desert, or in the midst of carnivores. One has to survive the drop first and

then contend with either broken bones or more serious injuries. Even if one survives,

the chance of finding a friendly civilization is quite small. There are civilizations and

tribes out there which look at us as a meal or a propitious sacrifice to their own gods.

Besides, there are a lot of mythological and other creatures roaming out there and most

are not friendly to humans. As I said, it is an extremely dangerous world.”

“Can we get home? To Earth, I mean.”

“It is possible if you have the magical skill and power for it. Either by the use of an

existing exit gate or portal or by making a new one. Finding an existing exit portal is

trying to find the proverbial needle in a mountain of a haystack. All have been closed by

the pantheons. Opening one will need the magical knowledge and ability of a major

deity. And a very complicated ceremony. Not to mention the massive energy required to

force a way back. And, this is a crucial consideration, the summoner of such a portal

will have to contend against the desire of this world’s pantheons to keep such doors

closed.”

“So, we’re really stuck here?”

“Yes. As you Americans would say, like glue.”

Somebody knocked on the door. Tyler heard the word “Davre!” being called out in a

woman’s voice. That must be Helga. Looking at the Gothi, Tyler saw him already in his

mature guise. That was fast chanting, he thought. The Gothi called out in reply. Tyler

noted that even the timbre of the voice had changed.

The Gothi looked at him. “Time for the day-meal. You think you are strong enough to

go out of the room?”

“Yeah. I think I can manage. I am still hungry, very hungry. But I don’t feel that weak

anymore and the pain has receded. Must be your potion. How about my clothes?”

“Wait for a moment,” said the Gothi as he went to the wooden chest beside the table.

He pulled out a set of clothes.

“Here. Put this on. These are not Eric’s, I brought them with me. Hope they fit.”

The Gothi turned his back while Tyler put on the outfit. It felt a bit loose and one size

larger. The long-armed tunic was light brown and went down to a point above his

knees while the baggy trousers were in dark blue. A buckled leather belt completed the

ensemble. It looked like what Eric was wearing.

“We’ll leave the cloak, boots and other gear here. We’re inside so you can walk barefoot.”

Digging through the contents of the chest, the Gothi brought out a necklace with a

medallion which had a piece of amber in the middle.

“Here, put this own. It’s a runic device for language. But it’s only good for Nordic and

similar languages. You can talk to people and people can talk to you. You will actually

be talking and hearing in English but it makes people think you are conversing in their

language. Even listeners will believe it to be so. Area of effect would be around eight

feet around you. So try not to shout.”

Tyler inspected the medallion. The thin metal around the amber centerpiece appeared

to be copper, inscribed with runes. The necklace also looked to be copper, made out of

tiny interlocking rings.

“I wear one myself,” said the Gothi, “and these things are rare so don’t lose it. Only

deities and high-level specialist mages can make them. But be careful, such deities and

mages can also see through the magical effects. They will know you for a stranger and

think that you are a high-ranking mage. That may be good or bad depending on the

circumstances.”

“So how did you get these?” asked Tyler as he put on the necklace.

“Fringe benefit,” answered the Gothi, who was looking him over. The Gothi suggested

he hide the necklace inside his tunic.

“Freaking Star Trek universal translator,” commented Tyler as he hid the item.

“Star Trek?”

“Cultural reference again. Sorry. Science fiction television series. Came out during the

1960’s.”

“I do read science fiction,” said the Gothi, “unfortunately, that reading genre doesn’t

seem to exist here. It’s mostly runic spell books, trade accounts, history of nobles,

lineages of people I truly don’t care about. You get the idea.”

“Hah! You’re living the story already!” replied Tyler.

“Dangerously so, Mr. Havard,” commented the Gothi, amused at the suggestion.

“Now, your back story. You’re an apprentice trader from Barholm. That’s very far from

here. Your caravan got hit by bandits, you escaped and wandered through the forest

for several days. You’re still recovering and have memory lapses. Don’t talk too much.

Let me handle it. Good thing you do look as if you lost a lot of weight.”

Tyler looked at the Gothi.

“You know, that has really puzzled me. I only noticed that I had lost body weight when

I was in the forest. I guess I shed around 25 to 30 pounds. Though I didn’t think it

affected me that much. It was as if I naturally got thinner without the negatives of

abrupt weight loss. The consequences of arrival in this world had more impact.”

“Etheric cost of transfer. Happened to me too. Moving over requires power. Using the

portal has an energy cost. In the past, this energy cost was serviced by sacrifices or

offerings of power. In our instances, the portal took it out from our bodies. As it

couldn’t get magical power from you, it took some of your body mass as payment.

Come, let’s have our meal. I am hungry too.”

The meal was laid out in a bigger room which served as the dining room, the kitchen

and the receiving area of the house. A half-opened wooden door reinforced by iron bars

led to the outside of the house. The room still smelled of smoke from the cooking fires.

The area and its furniture were all made of wood, except for the large cooking area

made of stone. A cauldron hung from an iron rod laterally traversing the enclosed

cooking chamber. It also served as the fireplace of the house, the chimney’s