MythOS (Ravirn, Book 4)
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In the 21st century, magic has advanced with the times and gone digital. But when Ravirn-a computer savvy sorcerer-is thrown into a parallel world where magic runs on a different operating system, he'll need mad skills to get out alive.
locomotion as any in that kind of space. As I moved closer I discovered that it was a they, a long line of little yellow disky things like animate Frisbees moving northeast to southwest. I traced the line back toward its point of origin and started mentally swearing. A huge cylinder stood there, the largest yet. It stretched all the way from the grid below to the one above like a pillar for holding up the sky. Since, as far as I could tell, it stood at the exact center of her inner space, that
our devices, they’ll know that no one else could possibly have made it.” “Not seriously,” I said. “Yuh-huh.” Fenris grinned. “It’s actually not such a wild claim when you remember that our only competition in the magical computers market is Odin’s MimirSoft.” “There is that.” I nodded, thinking of the beige box server farm within Yggdrasil. “Does that mean that Loki’s machines can access MimirNet?” asked Tisiphone, looking suddenly interested and very predatory. “Sadly, no,” replied Fenris.
sniffing of him didn’t result in any objections on her part. I still didn’t trust him, but the sounds of the Hunt began to move closer, and we didn’t have a lot of options. “Why?” I asked. “Why what?” “Why would you help us?” “Gift horse, mouth, never looking in same,” replied the fox. “Does the phrase mean anything to you?” “Yes, that whoever coined it never had to pay for the upkeep of a bum horse. I’ll see your horse-saying and raise you a pig in a poke.” “Oink, oink, oink,” said the
downward with the broad flippers of my hind feet while I steered with my tail. In seconds, I had overtaken Melchior. Catching his right hand in my paw, I drew him upward. He didn’t fight. In fact, he barely moved, seeming half-drowned despite the fact that breathing was a purely optional activity for him. I was so focused on Melchior that I’d almost reached the surface before I remembered the Midgard Serpent and thought to worry about what might happen next. It was a purely intellectual
“She says it’ll take about five minutes. I’m not sure why, but Loki agreed with her.” The time slid past slowly and uneventfully until Ahllan appeared unexpectedly on the stairs above us. She looked young and strong and dangerous, every inch a troll. Melchior, on the other hand, looked apoplectic. “What do you need?” she asked. Then, when she saw Melchior’s expression, she said, “Relax. I ran the connection through me because I still don’t trust Loki. This way anything he tries to slip into the