The Accidental Archmage - Book Five Edmund Batara (classic children's novels .TXT) 📖

“Good. Now to business. I apologize for not visiting earlier. I was otherwise occupied,” he announced. To his surprise, the spirits all nodded.

They could observe what was happening around the staff, Tyler realized. For a moment, it alarmed him. Then he caught himself. It was judging magical entities by human standards. The young mage noted that he had not fully changed his perspective. At least he had stopped viewing Adar through Earth’s value systems and social norms. That mollified his chagrin to some extent.

“But let’s get the preliminaries done. Forms and names. I won’t impose any name on you if you wish to be called by another. This fellow by my side already has his name and final form. He’s Birki and your guardian if I’m not around. Let’s start with those on my right side,” said the mage. The two spirit forms were seated beside each other. Then Tyler discovered he didn’t have an idea of what some of the energy shapes were—their origins and powers.

“Tell me first what you are as I point you out,” he promptly continued. Tyler turned his full attention to the two large vapors.

“We have no names,” answered the gray cloud of mist closest to him. “We are energies born of Phobos and Deimos. Terror and fear arising from battle.”

Figures, thought Tyler.

“We have no preferences as to our names. We leave the matter to you. As to our forms, the male form would be much preferred,” added the darker mass of cloud.

“You shall be known as Machi,” said Tyler as he pointed to the gray cloud. “Your brother shall be known as Polemos.”

The two shapes gave an imitation of a bow, slightly bending the top of their forms.

“Battle and War. In the language of Hellas. Quite appropriate,” commented Birki. Tyler gestured to the guardian to come closer. Then he whispered a very important query.

“How do I give them their shapes?”

Birki looked at him with disbelieving eyes and an incredulous expression.

“You don’t know?” came the whispered reply, tinged with some suspicion that it was a trick on the part of the mage.

“No. Would I be asking you if I knew?” Tyler dryly answered.

“By the pretensions of Hrun! Lad, I told you this reality was subject to your will. Start with that,” Birki replied in a weary tone. “Even those who have human forms need completion.”

Tyler glanced at the two shapes. He didn’t want to ask any more questions of Birki.

Come to think of it, for a First Mage, the question sounded stupid.

The mage decided to start with Machi, the gray shape. He concentrated, focusing his will on the amorphous mass, ordering it to take the form of a male. The mage didn’t specifically select a boy pattern, worried that it would limit the growth of the energy later on. A minute passed and the cloud began to take on the distinctive two legs, a body, two arms, and a head.

As the image became clearer and the energy concentrated in the shape, Tyler willed the forming figure to take on the appearance of what it should be—a reflection of itself. He held the command on the mass for another minute before the pattern assumed a definite persona, that of an eight-year-old boy with Mediterranean features, but gray hair. The face was serious yet with playful eyes. Surprisingly, it was dressed in the armor of a hoplite. The mage broke his focus and let the figure complete itself.

That was exhausting, Tyler told himself. Two down, six to go.

Polemos was an easier task. He concluded it must be the experience in making Machi’s form. But what resulted was a young boy, also in hoplite armor, with a lively mien but serious eyes. The hair was black. As with his brother, he extended his thanks to the mage.

So, they can be polite. And behaved, thought Tyler. Yet again the weariness started. He had to put off the next one for a few minutes. Then he thought of asking Birki about the malaise resulting from the magical exercise.

“Why is it so tiring?” he asked with a whisper.

“It’s your first time to do this and there’s quite a number of entities waiting for you to conduct the exercise. But it would be faster and less draining if they’re closer to you and there’s direct body contact. A hand, a shoulder,” answered Birki.

Now he tells me, mused Tyler, but not without some degree of irritation.

Feeling recovered, he gestured to the third boy to approach, the one who appeared to be fading in and out. The boy stood up and went to him. Tyler shifted his chair to the right and gestured for the boy to stand in front.

“Now, who might you be?” he asked with a smile.

“A vestige of the entity you know as Wilan,” was the answer he got to his astonishment. Tyler looked at Birki.

“How could that be?”

“Well, you did spend a lot of time in the temple and went exploring in its innermost sanctum. Not to mention interacting with the various energies found there,” replied Birki.

“But I also spent time in Dionysus’s inn, but I don’t see his counterpart in here,” observed Tyler.

“Good for everyone, lad. The wine god was a handful when he was growing up. You stayed as a guest but stayed out of his magic. We got strands of energy here and there enough to be used by the children to become stronger. Same with the wisps from the pantheons you visited. Even that Aztecah war god contributed—unawares, of course. Within a certain distance, a deity’s aura unavoidably releases power to the ether. Energy is energy. With a tiny amount, origins matter no more. How it is used determines whether it is of the light or the infernal blackness.”

“I have a lot of questions for you after I finish. I have to understand how this staff works,” said Tyler as he turned his attention back to the boy in front of him. The strange quality of energy making up the entity still puzzled