Tartarus Beckons, Edmund Batara [bts book recommendations .TXT] 📗

rain of boulders again violently shaking the ground. An enormous cloud of dust arose, concealing the field of battle. Asag noisily blew a breath of air into the mess, and the dust disappeared. Where Tyler expected to see large piles of rocks now stood an army consisting of smaller versions of the giant golem, if being twice the size of a human could be called smaller. The creatures were neatly arranged in a caricature of the orderly formations of the dokkalfr, and the mage could see that just below them, another line of the same creatures stood ready to defend access to the mesa itself. Asag clapped his hands, and the newly formed creations started to move against what remained of the dokkalfr host, though the mage could see that the Anari forces were still at a significant strength. Then he noticed more of the stone creatures were being created, this time from the direction of the ancient ruin at the end of the valley.

Ah, they’re screwed. They’d be lucky if any survive, concluded the mage.

“There! That would be sufficient. Now we have time for a council of war! Revenge! And Titans? I heard of them a long time ago. Powerful deities, from what I know. Better! A challenge! And much, much better – a war against powerful deities, with the First Mage at my side,” declared Asag. This time, his statement was followed by the mad cackle Tyler expected.

Chapter Twenty

The Judgment of a Lesser House

Everyone looked at Tyler. The mage was surprised by the suddenness of Asag’s suggestion. The battle was still going on, but even if it was an obviously one-sided conflict, it wasn’t over. He had never been in such a situation, and the mage was one who assumed that something had ended only when it’s clearly finished.

“You’re sure about the battle being over, Alal?” he asked Asag.

“You doubt me, too? I am so disheartened right now. There’s a fixed number of my rock followers down there. The enemy destroys one, and another takes its place. They’ve also got instructions not to let anyone escape,” explained Asag, though the ancient warrior’s face still bore the expression of one offended by the insinuation. Tyler couldn’t tell if the display was feigned or real as the gleeful twinkle in Alal’s eyes told a different story. The demon was proving to be more inscrutable than Kobu.

“If you say so, Alal. I did notice the line of rock creatures at the bottom of the rise. They’ll be able to protect us if anybody does try to reach this rise,” said Tyler, trying to mollify Asag in case the demon did feel offended.

The group, except the two dokkalfr who stayed where they were, huddled in a circle. Tyler gave the unburnished and dismaying news to them – that it was highly probable the Titans and their allies were responsible for the abduction of Eira and death of Rumpr, and that unfortunately, the gates to Tartarus were shut from the inside. All that bad news, in the face of an ongoing quest for the dokkalfr and no means of getting to Maljen.

“First time I’ve heard of prisoners refusing to open the gates to their prison. Though it’s an excellent situation. Better to catch all the rats in one place,” remarked Tyndur casually.

The rest of the companions stole glances at the einherjar. His singular display of sorrowful anger had not been forgotten. Typically, such a comment would have been accompanied by laughter or some form of levity, but this time, the words were uttered in a different, serious tone. Something had indeed changed in their einherjar. Tyler looked at the warrior. Only the mage knew of the plan of the einherjar to leave the company when they’ve left the cave behind. Did the comment mean Tyndur had changed his mind?

“Prison dimensions. Hah! Stupid Titans. Every place has its imperfections. Even the most perfect sword will have a defect somewhere if one looks long and hard enough. Though the proper magical skill and knowledge are essential for cutting down the time needed for such an examination. It’s not as if everyone has the longevity, or patience, to undertake such a task.”

It was Asag who spoke.

“Do you, by any chance, know of a way into Tartarus?” asked Tyler. He did know it was a long shot, considering Asag came from a far earlier time and a different magical system.

“No.”

This guy could be a pain at times. Why the freaking lecture on dimensional cracks?

“But find me dark, solitary creatures who live in shunned places of this world,” continued Asag. “Chances are they made their abodes in such openings. The energy coming through is usually enough to sustain them, thus enabling such mad beings the capability of not needing to venture into the surface in search of sustenance, whatever form that might be.”

Mad. Takes one to know one, thought the mage.

“What are they? Parasites? Aren’t demons supposed to go out and try to rule the world?” This time, it was Habrok who pointed out the common belief about demonic creatures.

“Well, the rule the world desire is a given. But haven’t you wondered about the ones who weren’t sent back to the nether hells, but were able to slink away in defeat? They try to gather their lost strength in the darkest corners possible, away from any hero or deity. Renewing power or levels lost to beings armed with magical weapons is a lengthy process. Years turn into centuries, and into millennia. Madness slips in, dances its merry way into a demonic mind, and then some of them decide that they’re better off where they are,” answered Asag glibly. It was an uncharacteristically clear reply from him. Tyler expected a song-and-dance routine and yet wondered if Asag was partially describing what he had gone through.

“So, what are they? By what you described, they can’t be called demons in the usual sense of the word,” persisted the ranger.

“Barnacles,” replied Asag, who then laughed his heart out.

Suddenly, Asag stopped his mirthful howling,