He examined the skies. A few flying dots remained, but the mage thought it was manageable. But the number of enemies on the ground was rapidly increasing again. Palirroia suddenly reappeared before the mage and transformed into a young man with blond hair and beard, wearing ordinary scale armor sans helm. He nimbly stepped into the platform, and the others involuntarily stepped back, crowding around the mangonel, except for members of the party. Tyler could hear the hiss of the swords of the jarl’s hird as weapons were unsheathed. He bowed before the mage.
“A refreshing exercise, my lord, but it is now time for us to return to our vigilance,” the being stood up.
“Out of curiosity, how often do those entities on the other side attack?” asked the mage.
“A continuous and never-ending watch, my lord. Almost every fifteen minutes. Only we don’t know if it’s a major threat or a mere testing skirmish every time they show up,” replied the wyrm. “My time with Ares was a trying one for my race. There are but a few of us, and my absence was sorely felt.”
Then he glanced to the side and saw Habrok.
“Hail, ranger! Good to see you alive and at the service of our master. But where’s the warrior?” asked Palirroia.
“Fallen, great drake. He’s in Valhalla now,” said Habrok.
“Ah. Nothing like a good death, fighting for what one believes. I pray when my time comes, I would be as fortunate as he was. Fare thee well. Your battle is upon you and the numbers of your opponents, though lessened, are still great.”
“Fare thee well, Palirroia. Our gratitude for the invaluable help,” said the ranger.
The wyrm in a man’s shape turned to Tyler and gave a final bow, before disappearing with his kind.
The jarl walked forward.
“You are full of unimaginable surprises, High Mage. You do deserve your real title. Never in my imagination could I conceive of the idea that a wyrm would bow to a mortal. Even now, my mind refuses to accept what my eyes saw.”
“Even I could scarcely believe it, jarl. That race has weightier problems on its hands. Their assistance was a welcome, and crucial, one, but now the siege begins,” said the mage. “From his words, there are still a lot of them out there. But at least the flying monsters have been reduced to a mere nuisance. That kind worried me. In their numbers, and in the darkness of the night, they would have been enough to leave this fortress empty of men and dwarves in less than an hour.”
He gave the jarl a slight motion of his head and moved toward the end of the parapet. The jarl soon stood beside him, the guards having been signaled by the ruler to stay where they were.
“I have to admit the enemy’s numbers are too great to be defeated, jarl. Even with our assistance. We’re all going to perish before morning comes, unless I can nullify the spell animating them. I believe you ought to know the reality of the situation. Good thing the attack is at night, otherwise, even the bravest hearts would fail at the sight of the vast numbers facing us. We do have a slim chance, a gamble that involves attempting to unravel the animating spell. That’s the reason for my sleepless night, but even then, what I was able to come up with might not work. Worse, it required that the high concentration of the bizarre energy be close at hand, meaning that the corpse of your brother would have to be here, before the walls. Until that happens, we just have to weather whatever they throw at us,” whispered Tyler.
“I understand, First Mage. But whether we live or die, I am glad you ventured here, of all places, to fight at our side. Such an act by you and your companions will never be forgotten,” replied the jarl.
“Well, as we have both mentioned before, let’s make sure some people will be left to remember,” Tyler smiled.
The mage looked at the distant field again. Last night’s battle area was already overrun by green dots, and the flood of bright spots was coming closer, though they hadn’t reached mangonel or catapult range yet. That kill zone was also where Birki laid out his latest work. Tyler never thought watching glowing flecks would be such a chilling experience.
“Sire.” It was Tyndur.
“Yes?” The mage looked back.
“I searched the body of that rat. Nothing strange, except for this rune plate. I believe it’s the bastard’s means of communicating with the leader of the revenants,” said the warrior.
“Let me see that,” said Tyler. The germ of an idea was forming in his head.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Insults Matter
Loki spake:
60. “That thou hast fared | on the East-road forth
To men shouldst thou say no more;
In the thumb of a glove | didst thou hide, thou great one,
And there forgot thou wast Thor.”
Thor spake:
61. “Unmanly one, cease, | or the mighty hammer,
Mjollnir, shall close thy mouth;
My right hand shall smite thee | with Hrungnir’s slayer,
Till all thy bones are broken.”
Tyler scrutinized the rune plate, and then turned to his guides.
“What do you think? Activated by energy?” he asked.
“Of course, sire. A surprisingly small amount. We believe it’s intended to reach one destination only, in both directions,” answered X.
“Thanks.” The mage walked to the jarl. What he planned had to be explained. It involved a lot of insults and might be misinterpreted; Jarls could be touchy about honor and the reputation of their line.
“With your permission, Jarl Geir, another private conversation? I do apologize for disturbing you this often,” voiced the mage.
“Nonsense, High Mage. As if I have anything better to do. Right now, I am hoping to be a jilted bride at her wedding. I really don’t like the arriving groom.”
As soon as they were alone, the mage warned the jarl he would be asking personal questions.
“How was your relationship with your eldest brother?” Tyler asked.
“Bjarte? The eldest and heir to the throne. Arrogant as they come.
