The Accidental Archmage Edmund Batara (books you have to read .txt) 📖

his head, giving easy access to the battleaxe.

Tyler didn’t doubt that Jorund could quickly whip it out and slice the man in two, if he

wished to.

“Greetings, fellow guests? Traders?” said the man as he drew near, “I am Farman, a trader from Metwold. Would you be so kind to grant me the honor of joining you? It is

still early and I find myself in a strange city with no one to talk to.”

“You look like a trader,” Farman observed, nodding at Tyler, “Wouldn’t it advantageous

for us to engage in discourse? We may be able to find a common ground for some

business. Two rounds of ale on me if you would give me the privilege of joining your

table.”

Tyler looked at Jorund. The guard was still staring at Farman, unmistakably leaving the

decision to Tyler. He groaned inwardly. Of course, Jorund would leave the decision to

him. Yet to refuse may be seen as a cultural faux pas, as he remembered that

courteous hospitality was a major matter in Nordic culture. Yet he was trying to keep a

low profile while still trying to get his bearings.

But more importantly, he had a feeling of unease about the man. As if something

powerful hid behind the smiling facade. But he had to make a decision. So he went with

one in consonance with cultural expectations.

“We would be honored if you would join us,” Tyler answered, standing up. Jorund

remained seated with his hands still at the back of the head position, his eyes never

leaving Farman. Farman extended his hand for a handshake, and Tyler

reciprocated. Thank God, Andreas briefed me about the forearm handshake, Tyler

thought.

The priest said it was a common practice in Skaney. He explained that historical records

on Earth, especially chronicles in the Faroe Islands, mentioned handshakes. It could

have been the Greek right hand to right hand handshake but Skaney practice led him to

believe that the Faroe chronicles actually referred to the forearm handshake. Chalk one

up for Andreas, the ancient history geek, this world must be a goldmine of knowledge

for him. But then again, it could just be a cultural adaption, and in that event, Andreas

may throw a fit worthy of an academic with a disapproved grant request.

As they did the handshake, Tyler felt a small burst of energy erupt between their

connected forearms. It was like static electricity. He tried to pull away his arm but

Farman’s hold was uncannily strong and firm.

The world stopped. He saw Farman’s left hand quickly making a series of gestures in

the air and the tavern vanished, replaced by a small but impressive room. It looked like

a room fit for royalty. Gold filigree everywhere, even on the ceiling. Rosewood colored

walls and furniture. Damask cushions on the chairs and the wide couch. Gold and glass

pitcher and cups. Luxurious floor rugs which looked Persian, among other furnishings.

The room gave a decadent feel.

He could see that the room had very large bay windows. But there was nothing to be seen outside, only a thick white mist which was strangely illuminated in a way that the

light extended to the room.

Open-mouthed, Tyler looked at Farman. They both had dropped the handshake. Tyler

noticed that Farman had a very amused grin on his face. It was the smile of somebody

who saw his masterpiece of a practical joke being successfully carried out.

“Hello Tyler,” said Farman. Then he gave a little bow. “Loki at your service.”

All Tyler could think of was how screwed he was.

“Oh, swipe that scared face off,” said Loki, “I don’t… uhm, wait… change that to

“won’t” …. bite. Take a seat. Sit down. Relax. This is a mere meet and greet affair.”

Tyler sat down. His mind was still frazzled by the fact that in front of him was Loki, a

major league player in the Nordic pantheon. A deity whose interest can result in lethal

consequences, one way or another. Loki remained standing but his attire suddenly

changed to a dark blue suit, complete with a red tie. An ivory cane trimmed with gold

completed the appearance. Tyler absently thought he needed a fedora to complete the

look.

“A tete-a-tete! A one-on-one! A palaver! A confabulation!”

While he was sprouting off, Loki was walking back and forth in front of the petrified

Tyler.

“A date!” the god finally exclaimed who then reversed himself.

“Nope…. Not a date. I don’t swing that way. Besides, Sigyn won’t approve,” murmured

the god who now had changed his attire to a black tuxedo, complete with a top hat.

”Sweet, sweet Sigyn,” continued Loki. The god stopped and turned to Tyler.

“Don’t mind me too much. Just dropped by to see what the fuss was all about. The All-

Father seemed to be busy as of the moment to see me. Me! His son! Then as I was

about to leave his hall, I heard him start cursing up a storm. In the figurative sense,

Tyler, not a literal one,” said Loki as Tyler’s eyes went wide-open.

“Something about ice drakes! And Ymir! The old man can really curse, I’ll tell you that.

The last time I heard those swear words in such a profound and lovely manner was

when I stole Idun’s apples. Which got me so curious that… here I am!” exclaimed Loki,

arms spread wide.

“Shouldn’t you be still in that prison?” stammeringly asked Tyler, remembering that bit of Nordic mythology.

“Oh, you mean Skadi’s little love nest! Nope, no, nein, nyet. That traitorous bitch of a

jotunn! We’re almost cousins! Or half-cousins! Didn’t even give me some slack! I mean,

a millennium or five should have been enough for some loosening of the rules or at

least the chains! But noooooooo… she had to be a stickler for the rules!”

Tyler could see the mad gleam in Loki’s eyes. Shit, a worse case than Miss Psychotic, he

thought, I am so totally screwed! Why did I have to ask that question?

Just when Tyler thought Loki would continue in his tirade, the god abruptly calmed

down.

“You thought I was going postal, didn’t you?” remarked the god, all madness in his blue

eyes gone in a heartbeat.

“I was freed when the pantheon moved to Adar,” quietly continued Loki, “Some minor

deities didn’t make the journey. That bitch among them. The belief sustaining them was

not enough