The Accidental Archmage: Book Two - Gifts of the Greeks (Accidental Archmage Series 2) Read online

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  COVER PAGE

  ASIN

  THE ACCIDENTAL ARCHMAGE SERIES

  AUTHOR'S NOTES

  ADDITIONAL NOTES FOR BOOK TWO

  IMAGE ATTRIBUTIONS

  THE STORY SO FAR: BOOK ONE

  EPIGRAPH: KASSANDRA OF TROY

  GREEK HOPLITE HELMETS

  PROLOGOS: PARODE AND STROPHE

  PARABASIS: EISAGOGI AND ANTISTROPHE

  CHAPTER I AKROTIRI

  CHAPTER II DRINKING, DISTURBED.

  CHAPTER III INTERESTED PARTIES

  CHAPTER IV ALONG CAME A SPIDER

  CHAPTER V THE ISMENIAN DRAKON

  CHAPTER VI AN IMPENDING FRACAS

  CHAPTER VII KILLING A RHUMBA

  CHAPTER VIII TEMPLE HUNT

  CHAPTER IX YIN. YANG.

  CHAPTER X DEATH AND LIGHTNING

  CHAPTER XI REPERCUSSIONS

  CHAPTER XII A COMPLICATION NAMED ASTRID

  CHAPTER XIII A FORCED HAND

  CHAPTER XIV BAIT AND SWITCH

  CHAPTER XV THE HILLS OF DORI

  CHAPTER XVI THE LONG WAY HOME

  CHAPTER XVII SPOILING A SIEGE

  EPILOGOS

  EXODE

  NEXT IN THE SERIES: BOOK THREE - BLOOD WARS

  COMING 2018: THE CHRONICLES OF ADAR: MIGRATION

  EXCERPT FROM THE CHRONICLES OF ADAR: MIGRATION

  COMING 2018: ARCANUM ASTRAY - THE REMARKABLE ADVENTURES OF MASTER PROFESSOR LUCIUS HENRY, S.M.

  EXCERPT FROM ARCANUM ASTRAY

  THE ACCIDENTAL ARCHMAGE

  Book Two

  Δώρα των Ελλήνων

  GIFTS OF THE GREEKS

  An epic fantasy in another world. With a modern twist.

  By

  Edmund A.M. Batara

  @ soloflyte

  AMAZON KINDLE ASIN:

  B076NLS6TS

  AUTHOR'S NOTES

  Incidents of people disappearing in plain sight are well-known in recorded history. One of the earliest known accounts was in the 1700s. One of the most recent was in 2007. Various theories have been advanced to explain such disappearances. This story is not such a theory.

  Endnotes appear at appropriate chapters. There are mythological terms and names used in the story. Footnotes are not appropriate for ebook formatting and I believe footnotes are more distracting than endnotes. Story immersion may also suffer if the reader is left to search by himself the meaning of the terms and names used. As some terms from Book One again appear, the definitions are repeated in the endnotes.

  The story is told from the main character's perspective. His own thoughts are italicized. His conversations with Hal, an entity introduced in Book One, as well as mental discussions with other characters, are italicized but with quotation marks.

  Greek translation is provided by Google Translate Version 5.13.0.RC07 (all rights reserved by Google, Inc.).

  Enjoy.

  That said, here’s the indispensable part of any book:

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, interactions, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, unless otherwise indicated. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All Rights Reserved by the Author. 2017.

  ADDITIONAL NOTES

  The word “prologue” originated from the ancient Greek “prologos”, a combination of “pro” or “before” and “logos”, meaning “word”. Then as now, the use of the prologue provides an opening or an introduction to the story at hand.

  In Book Two of this story, elements or stages of Greek tragedy and comedy are used as descriptive subtitles to introduce the prologue which is divided into two separate but related parts. Descriptions of these stages are found in the chapter endnotes.

  The use of stages from both types is intentional. Otherwise, the reader may unfortunately be able to tell from the beginning the underlying thread or threads of the book.

  But then again, do note that there are several plots in the over-all story, all being woven at the same time by players in their respective schemes. It may be engaging to determine what these are, aside from the quest of our lost and still bewildered mage. Clues on what these plots are were already given in Book One and in this sequel. It does help if the reader had already gone over Book One.

  I do hope you enjoy the story.

  The Author.

  IMAGE ATTRIBUTIONS

  Epigraph page image - Public domain. Either Edward J. Krasnoborski or F. Mitchell, Department of History, United States Military Academy; as stated on the Illustration credits of the book, all unlisted credited art are by these two members of the Department of History. - http://www.au.af.mil/au/awc/awcgate/gabrmetz/gabr0066.htm. Depiction of a hoplite: this graphic was first published in May, Elmer; Stadler, Gerald; Votaw, John; Griess, Thomas (series ed) (1984) "Classical Warfare: The Age of the Greek Hoplite" in Ancient and Medieval Warfare: The History of the Strategies, Tactics, and Leadership of Classical Warfare, New Jersey, United States: Avery Publishing Group, pp. p. 3 ISBN: 0-89529-262-9.

  Greek Hoplite Helmets - Image used with the permission of the artist, Damian Oswald. His work can be found on deviantart.com

  Greek Helmet Drawing (Prologos and Parabasis pages) - Public doman. Released on creativecommons.org by Flanker.

  Group of Greek Hoplites - By Unknown - Google Books - http://books.google.com/books?id=1JBqFWKSAxwC&printsec=toc#PPA171,M1, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3798737

  The Story So Far:

  Day 1 - Wet arrival in Adar.

  Day 2 - Preparations and planning. Noob.

  Day 3 - Moved out of Fossegrim Lake. Encountered wolves.

  Day 4 - Saw bandit attack. Met Eric's arrow.

  Day 5 – Stayed at hunter’s house.

  Day 6 – Still recovering.

  Day 7 – Woke up. Met the Gothi . Visitation by Lady of Fossegrim.

  Day 8 – Change of plans. Tyler to go to Maljen. Ambushed by three separate groups.

  Day 9 - In Maljen. Visited tavern. Loki appears. Dream visitation by the Lady of Fossegrim.

  Day 10 – Stayed in the Gothi's house in the morning. Jorund's gift. Visited temple. Met Odin.

  Day 11 - In the Gothi's house for the day.

  Day 12 – Onward to Scarburg through Bidsfell, accompanied by mercenary guards, Habrok and Jorund.

  Day 13 – On the road.

  Day 14 – Met the Maljen reinforcement column. Ambush. Escape.

  Day 15 – In the Fossegrim Hills. Attacked jotnar encampment. Taken by forest drake. Met Eira.

  Day 16 – Temple ruin journey. Talks with Hal. A night attack by mist creatures.

  Day 17 – A new campsite with Brovi. Practiced skills.

  Day 18 – Left for the forest's edge. On the way to Scarburg.

  Day 19 – Continued travel through the forest.

  Day 20 – Saw Bildsfell across the river. Encountered Greek gods. Taught Erithizo a lesson. Attracts the attention of Alea. Odin makes an appearance. Reaches Scarburg.

  Day 21 – Went to the blacksmith. Left for the Gap. Met Helgi, a Champion of the Oak. Another lesson. Started camp in the Gap of Telemark.

  Day 22 – Camp
preparations. Night attack of mist creatures and enemy forces led by a night-mage .

  Day 23 – Discovery that the enemy forces have entered the Gap. Attacks against the campsite. Jotnar/Dokkalfr attack against Scarburg start. Rumpr and Hrun appear.

  Day 24 – Attacked enemy force from the mountain ledge. Initiated offense against rear of enemy column. Black whirlwind let loose. Enemy defeated. Visited the temple ruin located near the Gap. Went back to Scarburg. Odin and Thor give thanks.

  Day 25 – Dokkalfr Mountains. Met Starkad, now calling himself Tyndur.

  Day 26 – Left for Scarburg by late afternoon. Waylaid by Ares, the Greek god of war, and Erethizo. Transported to Hellas.

  Start of Book Two.

  Ω Έλληνες

  Όταν έρχεται ο Λύκος

  Προσοχή στο σκυλί

  Oh Greeks

  When the Wolf comes

  Beware the Dog

  - disputed last prophecy. Kassandra of Troy, Seeress

  PROLOGOS:

  Parode

  Stelios Manos. Soldier. Hellenic Army. 1941

  Stelios Manos clutched his Mannlicher–Schönauer rifle tighter. The Italian artillery contingent had their range. The explosions of their Ansaldo Modello 34 howitzers were already bracketing their location.

  Damn that priest! He again thought. A multitude of curses ran through his mind.

  Conveniently forgetting why he was a private in the Greek Army, he began pouring blame on the unknowing priest of his home village.

  He was in the Army unwillingly. Hauled before the magistrate for beating up two young men who had the nerve to exchange words with a tavern girl he fancied. Never mind that the girl detested him.

  That brawl, together with his reputation of being the village bully, not to mention the trail of broken bones and cracked skulls he was known for, clinched the matter for the judge. It didn’t help his case when it came out that one of the young men he badly injured was the son of a high provincial official of the Metaxas political party.

  Sentenced to be hauled off to the town jail, a good 80 miles from the village, the village priest had the gall to suggest to the judge the option of joining the Army instead of serving a lengthy jail sentence. Something about redemption in the service of the country. A load of donkey shit, if you ask Stelios.

  It seemed a good option at that time. Inmates don't take kindly to bullies. Killers, maybe. Another vital consideration was the young man he hurt. A seriously broken leg, injured ribs, and bloody head wounds cry for retribution from the boy’s family. He may find his throat slit in his sleep. The Army looked to be a safe bolt hole for him. It did. Until the damned Italians invaded.

  Now he was part of a small scout group intended to reconnoiter the left flank of the Greek Army's attack on the Gap of Klisura. One of many teams, he admitted. Only that damned lieutenant wanted a closer look. Privately he suspected the man was angling for a captainship. They got the welcome artillery barrage instead.

  For the present, their group was relatively safe from infantry attack. They were high up in the rocky and mountainous terrain. But the flying stone shards from the explosions were as dangerous as the shrapnel from the artillery shells.

  The barrage ceased.

  Either they must be rearming or waiting for us to get out of cover, he thought. But the Italians are not fools. They must be maneuvering some troops to cut us off.

  He stubbornly stuck to his hole. True enough, the barrage started again after a few minutes. He didn't know how many men of his unit remained. His growing fear and panic were already shouting at him to escape. He did notice the deadly barrage was heavier than before. And the explosions were quite close.

  He was never a brave man. True, he was a big hulk of a bearded man, intimidating in appearance. But deep inside he knew he was not a courageous person. He always sought the easiest way out of trouble, usually with his fists. His size and his use of it, supported by a short temper, did reinforce his sense of entitlement. Not to mention that he had learned to enjoy the look of fear on the face of his victims.

  Suddenly, three very close detonations burst in succession, deafening him. The Italian battery was getting better. Either that or an enemy finally spotter got into position.

  He was already badly trembling. The muscles of his legs felt rubbery. He could smell the piss in his khaki army pants. The warm flow had already reached the top of his boots. His panic-stricken mind loudly screamed, "flee!" And he finally agreed with it.

  Next time the barrage lifts, I am going to say goodbye to this hellhole. Let them die here if they want to.

  He studiously kept his head down, not daring to peek at the rest of his unit. Not that his wracked nerves would allow it. As the shelling continued, his fear rose with every second of hearing the detonations. Stuffing his fingers in his ears didn't help. He could still hear the deadly blasts through covered ears. His body felt the alarming vibrations running through the ground with each explosion, exacerbating the state of already tired and frightened guts.

  Finally, his addled and stressed mind couldn't bear it any longer. All it could focus on were the thunderous explosions and what it meant to him. Adding to the unreasoning panic was the horrifyingly strong continued shaking of the ground as his hole among the stones threatened to entomb him.

  He built up the nerve to take a look, curiosity overcoming fear for a moment. A bloody and gory mess greeted him. Some of his comrades were caught in the open. Whether by the initial shelling or the second, he had no idea. But blasted bodies and pieces of it, disemboweled brown uniforms splattered with blood, were all over the rocky terrain. A bloody severed hand was right in front of him.

  He froze in shock at the sight. Then in a panic-stricken move, he got out of the hole and ran, rifle left behind. But eight feet from his makeshift foxhole, a shell exploded behind him. The blast deafened and shocked Stelios. He felt the shockwave batter his body. Fortunately, the large boulder at his back absorbed most of the explosion.

  But the force of the blast threw the deserter forward. Over the rocky cliff in front of him. Stelios screamed at the top of his lungs. Even when he was already out of his mind in fear, he knew he was going to die.

  As he fell, he could see the rough and stony ground far below waiting for his body to smash into them. Suddenly, a bright circle of light appeared to his front. It blinded him with its intensity and gave rise to new vocal heights. Once he met the glowing oval, his scream was cut off as it swallowed him. The rocks below waited in vain for Stelios.

  STROPHE

  Temple of Ares.

  The City of Dori.

  Preeminent among the cities

  in the region of Kriti. Hellas.

  The high priest walked faster. He was already a few minutes late for his evening prayers. Though the night breeze was a bit cold, beads of sweat festooned his brow. Something was not right. It felt as if an angry presence walked the halls of the temple.

  "Good evening, Archiereus."

  "Oh, it's you, Acolyte Petros. Is everything ready?" he asked the young man.

  "Yes, O High Priest. Your prayer chamber awaits you."

  He noticed the acolyte fidgeting. Small and inadvertent glances from the man as he surreptitiously surveyed the immediate surroundings betraying his nervousness.

  "Is something wrong, Acolyte?"

  "It's nothing, Archiereus."

  "Nothing. You look like a man about to get caught doing something improper."

  "Oh, no, Archiereus! It’s just that I feel uneasy for some reason. I can't explain it. It wasn't like this some minutes ago."

  "Enough with your excuses, young man! And your over-active imagination! You are in the temple of Ares! What is there to fear? Go! To your post!"

  Damn that young man, he thought. Now I am really late.

  He entered his private chamber and closed the door. Before him was a life-sized marble statue of his deity. A lighted large and ornate bronze brazier was burning brightly before
it. Unlike other depictions of the battle-god, this one was fully armored, with spear and shield. Red banners decorated the walls of the room. He walked forward to take his usual place of prayer.

  "WHAT IS THERE TO FEAR, INDEED?" A loud bass voice crashed through the room, deafening the old man. He tumbled to the floor, one knee already bent on the cold stone. As he fell to his knees, he knew what the voice portended. He didn’t get to be the High Priest for nothing.

  "My Lord Ares! You bless us with your presence! This is a divine gift!"

  "And you're late, High Priest! Be thankful I have need of you. Otherwise, I would have crushed you as soon as you entered the room!"

  The statue in front of the priest was starting to glow with a red aura, slowly increasing in brilliance.

  "My Lord! I beseech thee, mercy! Mercy for your faithful servant!"

  "Mercy is for the weak. You forget my teachings, old man."

  The panic-stricken priest couldn't think of anything more to say. Instead, self-preservation instincts took over, and he immediately prostrated himself, entirely putting himself at the whim of his angry deity.

  "How may I serve the mighty Lord of War? The King of Battle?"

  "Your fondness for the flesh will be the death of you yet, priest! But you are blessed tonight. For I have a task for you. Do it quickly. Do it well, and my dogs will go without man-flesh for now."

  "Anything, Lord Ares. My life is yours!"

  "Indeed, it is. Listen. On the outskirts of Dori, near the second bridge and hidden in a grove of poplar trees, is a man. A visitor."

  "A visitor, Lord Ares? I thought they're just legends."