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

a while?” urgently asked Tyndur, his face in conniptions.

“Why?”

“If I can’t release my laughter, I’ll burst,” answered the einherjar through tightly clenched lips. Tyndur quickly ran out the door and after several seconds was back at Tyler’s side, face flushed. The mage didn’t know how the warrior did it, but he heard no bellow of laughter while the einherjar was outside the room. As the groggy and hurt dwarves picked themselves up, Tyndur sidled to the mage.

“I don’t think they’ll be fighting each other anytime soon, sire. But there’s a chance we’ll be the focus of the ire of both groups,” whispered the einherjar.

“You’re right, Tyndur. I see two individuals making their way toward us. Fast recovery. Impressive.”

“No surprise there, Fir… High Mage. They’re half-deaf already from working their forges and mining shafts. Sturdy bodies. Probably ate rocks for breakfast. I hate to kill such brilliant minds, but better them than me,” added the warrior.

“No, no. No fighting. We’re guests here! Spilling blood in the jarl’s throne room would be the ultimate insult to our host! Let me handle it,” hurriedly replied the horrified Tyler.

The mage moved to the front, passing the three companions, and strengthened his barriers as he waited. The two dwarves stood just beyond quarterstaff distance. The mage and the dwarven duo warily eyed each other.

The mage saw the one with the darker armor was paler in countenance, as were all of his kind. But in other respects, they looked the same. Even the general style of the armor and its engravings was similar, except the symbols of the darker dwarf’s armor were rougher in design as if copied from an ancient language unchanged by the mellowing of time and new ideas.

“By the darkest and stinkiest dokkalfr outhouse, just who do you think you are?” shouted the one with the gleaming though dented armor.

“And who gave you the right to disturb our sacred merriment?” asked the other.

“Havard, High Mage,” answered Tyler in a calm voice. “And it was quite disrespectful for you to conduct yourselves in such a fashion in the throne room of our host.”

The two looked at each other and then bowed toward the jarl.

“Our apologies, Jarl Geir. We forget ourselves sometimes,” said Mr. Shining.

“You attacked us first!” accused the other, looking at the dwarf who just spoke. “It’s your fault!”

Here we go again, thought Tyler with trepidation. The other dwarves had all recovered, their wounded tucked away in separate corners of the room, attended to by their companions. But each group had massed into their own formations, separated by a gap of four feet from each other. Belligerent and insulting looks were on the faces of those confronting the front ranks of the opposing side. Small hammers and mattocks were again gripped in hands ready for more of their sacred merriment. Mercifully, the name-calling and verbal expletives had stopped. There was no telling what flying insults would do.

“Stop right there,” Tyler calmly told the dark-armored dwarf. “Let’s not escalate matters again.”

“Escalate? Escalate? I’ll escalate your butt with this!” shouted the dwarf, holding up his mattock.

Good thing Tyler had been warned about the ornery side of the dwarves, otherwise he would have encased them all in a force bubble and let them batter and throttle each other to their hearts’ content.

“Behave yourself, both of you,” said the mage, still in a calm voice. “You don’t want me to get mad.”

“And what are going to do about it, you mangy, undersexed, flea-bitten, farter of a mage?” yelled the other one.

Oh, my Lord. They’re trying my patience!

He noticed the jarl and his men were quiet, but those nearest to him had unlocked the clasps holding their weapons in their sheaths. His companions had moved abreast of him, weapons now casually held in hand.

“I’ll get Hrun and Rumpr to play with your underground cities.”

Tyler didn’t mean it, but it was the best threat he could think of. With their preference for underground cities and stone, he had a feeling the dwarves knew of the two elementals. He didn’t believe a counter-threat mentioning violence would work. It would probably immediately induce a free-for-all, this time with fatal results.

At his words, the two looked stunned as were the other dwarves.

“You know of them?” asked the pale one — this time, with a low, quivering voice.

“Know them? They gave us our armor and some of our weapons!”

The eyes of all the dwarves fell on the dragon scale and drake armor of Tyler and Habrok.

“I see. Our utmost apologies for our behavior then,” said the one with the gleaming armor, tone almost respectful, though the words sounded like they were painfully drawn from his throat. He returned his ceremonial hammer to its holder at his back. The other dwarf had clipped to a belt the mattock held in his right hand. The rest were already following suit, sheathing their own weapons. The change in demeanor was so abrupt, it made Tyler do a double-take. The ill-temper exhibited by the dwarves was suddenly and improbably gone.

“Our apologies too, High Mage. It’s just that there has been no High Mage in these parts for so long and we failed to notice your presence,” said the other one.

The two looked at each other and at a guttural command voiced collectively, bowed to Tyler, together with all the dwarves in the room.

“We further apologize that we cannot, at this time, exchange names and titles. Our customs dictate that it be made on another occasion. Otherwise, it would be an insult to the Jarl of Hedmark,” said the gleaming one.

“Thank you for your apologies. On our names, let us introduce ourselves to each other on another occasion, as your custom demands,” said the relieved mage. “I guess protocol could now continue. No more fighting.”

Tyler turned to the jarl.

“By your leave, Jarl Geir. We’ll go and wait in the meeting room.

The jarl merely nodded, looking dazed and confused by the quick turn of events.

***

On the way back to their original destination, the mage hastily checked with his guides.