Wizard's Sword (The Battle Wizard Saga, No.2) (14 page)

Sig looked up at the Professor and took a deep breath. "I′m OK. I just pictured spending life like Grampa. It′s a horrifying image." He took a deep breath. "I understand; it′s just a scenario and not probable."

The Professor stood up, nodded, and smiled. He turned back to his desk and said, "It′s most likely, but still it′s just a scenario."

Sig rolled his eyes in frustration and glanced again at the large leather book anchoring the stack. He considered pulling it out and hurling it at the Professor. It would be a waste if the Professor blasted such a lovely old book with one of his fireballs.

He forced himself to ask calmly, "Why do you feel it′s the most likely scenario?"

The Professor warmed to his subject. He began ticking off on his fingers. "It matches the modus operandi, if one formulates the theory that the same wizard is responsible."

He reached out and patted the massive volume anchoring the stack on his desk. "This work is by Basil Lotheridge, a Cistercian monk. He documented phenomena performed by his Abbot who succumbed to the temptation of dark practices."

"Men of the cloth practiced black magic?"

"Those who have magical powers still have the weaknesses of men. The promise of great power becomes a siren song that transfixes even the strong. The church is guilty of many excesses, particularly in the Middle Ages when it battled for dominance with the rulers of those days. Luckily, Friar Lotheridge clung to his faith and documented his Abbot′s unrestrained behavior at great risk to himself."

"At least he finished his masterwork."

"Well, no, he didn′t. The final page is incomplete, stopping mid-description of the victims of a particularly nasty demon." The Professor sighed. "At least we have what he passed on to us." Professor Herman′s gaze grew distant.

Time to draw him back to the subject at hand. "What does Friar Basil′s book have to do with the modus operandi that you mentioned?"

The Professor looked startled. "Yes… In the book he describes how the Abbot enlisted the services of various demons." He pulled the book from the stack and flipped it open. The pages crackled.

He squinted as he flipped through. "Ah, here it states that demons are extremely literal." He looked up at Sig with a smile.

Sig responded with a quizzical expression.

The Professor poked a finger at the page. "According to Friar Basil, the Abbot warred with another wizard. The Abbot commanded a demon to prevent the wizard from 'expelling any magic.′" He looked up with smile. "The key to resolving the conundrum is in examining the words. Consider that it disallowed the expulsion of magic. When the wizard discovered he could only
internalize
magic; he transformed into a tiger, and killed the Abbot by tearing his throat out. You see?" Professor Herman smiled, quite pleased with the revelation.

Sig thought for a moment. "So, if I had the same demon, I can change, but can′t perform magic outside of my body. What happened to the wizard after the Abbot died?"

The Professor turned back to the book, "Friar Basil said that, after the Abbots death, the wizard regained his powers, changed back from tiger form, and escaped by blasting the door of the dungeon."

Sig contemplated this silently for a few moments. He looked up at the Professor. "You said the modus operandi fit. I don′t see how."

"Ahhh, the grimoire that the Abbot used, also had a spell which invokes a demon to weaken a wizard by eating his magic."

"Like Grampa. What happened to the wizard who had a demon eating his magic?"

Professor Herman grimaced. "Friar Basil′s recordings don′t actually record that spell being used." He looked up at Sig with a weak smile. "However, toward the end of his writings, the friar conjectured that if it were used, the demon would be released upon the Abbot′s death, as happened with the tiger wizard."

"What happened to the friar?

"It doesn′t say. The friar wrote that the Dark Abbot assigned a demon to kill his followers if he died. Apparently in the process of enumerating those that died, the book ends… in mid-sentence."

 "Why have two different spells that are similar?"

"Similar, but diabolically different. With one spell, magic, the wizard′s own weapon magic, turns on him. He can use it but using it slowly kills the wizard. With the other, magic is stolen leaving him defenseless, or so the thought process went until the tiger roared."

"And, the only way to stop the demons is to kill the wizard who invoked them?"

"It appears that is the solution."

"Now all I have to do is find the dark wizard who invoked Grampa′s and my demons and kill him. Piece of cake. Maybe it would help if I could change into a tiger. And do it before he kills us."

Dmitri walked into The Room. He dreaded its stygian darkness. He peered about and didn′t detect anyone, but in the dark, who knew? He sat and fiddled with the snaps on his coat. Snap, snap, snap, snap.

"Stop that!"

Dmitri froze. Where did the voice come from? He stood.

"Sit down."

He sat. His hands trembled. He stuck them in his coat pockets.

The voice hissed again. "What have you found? Will the child be clear of magical wards to hide behind when I release Andras?"

"His friend, the Were, has a competition. They will be together at the Game Room."

The wizard shrieked. "Where will his mentor be?"

"I don′t know, but I′ve never seen him there."

He shrieked again. "I will be trapped in the circle. When I come out, the boy better be dead."

Dmitri′s voice shook. "I can only provide the location. You and Andras must do the rest."

The Dark mage hissed. "Make sure he is there. We′ll take care of the rest."

Dmitri stood, and then knelt, head bowed. "Yes master." No reply came. He rose and groped his way to the door. He turned the knob and the door opened. With the light from the hallway, he turned and looked back into the room. No one there.

†††

After Sig′s banishment from the Amazon training facility, he and Rick spent more time together. Rick drove him to and from school and work, until Sig bought his new Jeep. After the purchase of the Jeep, since it had headlights and was drivable at night, unlike Rick′s Toronado, they rejoined the evening social scene.

Rick plunged in exuberantly. Sig′s roller coaster ride through social experiences made his approach much more tentative. When he came out of his shell after Dad died, the first girl he liked turned out to be a witch who tried to kill him, and almost succeeded. Developing friendship with Amazons resulted in their leader trying to kill him, too.

Amazons still frequented the same venues he and Rick attended. Those Amazons he liked and got along with maintained their distance because the Commander had pronounced him off-limits. Others, apparently under the influence of the hereditary breeding imperative, eyed him as if he were a hunk of meat prepared for their consumption.

Walking to the restroom became an ordeal. He caught Amazons pointing at him and whispering among themselves. He realized that women probably felt the same discomfort when guys ogled them. If so, he′d be careful in the future to avoid subjecting women to similar treatment.

One evening at the Game Room, Rick commented on Sig′s reserved behavior. "Why are you so quiet? Are you missing Giselle that much?"

Sig frowned. "I see her all the time at work. We chat."

"You talk about work. It′s not the same is it?"

Sig′s head sunk. "Naw, not really. I guess I do miss talking with her about other stuff. She didn′t let me get away with much and made me think. She forced me to see things differently, but did it in a nice way. I also miss the camaraderie of the training center workouts."

"So, you′re a masochist and liked getting your butt kicked?"

Sig gave Rick a wry smile. "Right." He knew the Amazons learned at least as much from him as he did from them. He toyed with the straw in his soda. "I miss the workouts. If the girls weren′t around everywhere we go, it wouldn′t be so bad. But they are, and now everything is different. Some avoid me, and others… They act like they want to have their way with me."

"I thought we were talking about your problems, not reasons you should be shouting whoopee, I′m gonna make whoopee."

"You should try it sometime."

"Please, please, please, tell me how. I′d like to try it. Don′t forget, I′m a Were. We have that whole alpha dog thing going. My turn doesn′t happen until way down the list from the alpha wolf."

"Sorry. I guess we all have our problems. I shouldn′t get lost in mine."

"That′s the attitude. If Amazons have issued a tribal imperative banishing you, there are lots of other women out there. I saw a couple of cute little witches headed toward the shuffleboard game. Let′s scoot over there."

Rick grabbed his beer and swung around on his stool, and stopped. "Look what the dog dragged in. If it isn′t Dean Heathcoat. What′s he doing here—slumming? Oh, there′s the answer."

Sig looked over as Dmitri walked up next to the Dean and sat on a bar stool that looked like it either would collapse or disappear up his rectum. "What does Dmitri have to do with Dean Heathcoat?"

"He′s been reassigned from Ley Line mapping to the Dean as a research assistant. I hear he was almost useless on the Ley Line project.

I don′t know what research he does for the Dean or how much he assists, but it′s a cushy assignment for an All-America football player. Maybe he gets the Dean tickets to the games."

Sig′s forehead wrinkled as he stared at Dean Heathcoat. "There′s something different about him, but I don′t know what."

"He′s usually in a dark suit. Khaki′s, a brown tweed sports coat, and brown T-shirt are out of character. You know clothes make the man."

"Yeah, maybe that′s it." Sig looked down at his sweatshirt, jeans, and scuffed sneakers, shrugged and said, "Let′s find those witches."

†††

Rick stood. "The dart competition is about to start. I have to get over there. Are you joining me?"

Sig stood and turned to the two witches. "Ladies I must go and provide moral, or in his case, immoral support. Should you care to join us, we′ll be at the dart venue where Rick will vie for the Game Room Championship." He delivered the last in sonorous tones.

Rick and Sig strolled in the direction of the dart championship. For this round of the tournament, Rick had drawn a match with his main competition, a small red headed man named Seamus, from Ireland. Rick nicknamed him Leprechaun. He looked like he might someday grow up to become a garden gnome.

Seamus frequented many of the same places as attended by others with magic. Sig guessed that the nickname probably had a basis in fact.

Rick and Seamus played each other frequently, evenly, and sociably. Today′s match, as part of the official dart club championship, included a money prize. Cordiality became a victim to cash. Rick greeted Seamus, "Hey Leprechaun, do you need the cash prize because you lost your pot of gold? If you′re that hard up, I′ll write you a check after I win."

"Sure, and I′m thinking there′ll be enough elastic in that check, I could make spandex pants for all the girls around here— and a pair for you when you dance in the moonlight."

Some of those gathered to watch the competition snickered.

Rick blushed and flashed a strained smile at Seamus. He pulled out his darts and laid them on the bar. Seamus did likewise.

Andrew, the bartender, looked around. "Does anyone here want to check the darts for spells?"

From the end of the bar, a long arm holding a glass raised high. "I′ll do it."

Professor Herman got up from his stool and sauntered over with his pint of dark brew.

Rick looked surprised. "I didn′t know you came here."

The Professor smiled and raised his pint. "I enjoy a brew as well as the next man, and I thought I′d come and show support for my research assistant, even if he didn′t invite me."

Rick opened his mouth to reply, and then shut it and shrugged. "Thanks for coming."

Professor Herman picked up the dart cases, opened them, set them back on the bar, and domed his hands over the darts, about an inch away. He pursed his lips, picked up Seamus′ darts, and with raised eyebrows proffered them back to him.

Seamus shrugged, smiled, pulled another set of darts from his pocket, and handed them to the Professor. He opened them, placed them next to Rick′s, and repeated his examination. After a moment, he nodded and handed the darts to each competitor. He then extended his hand to Seamus, palm up.

Seamus looked up at the Professor, rolled his eyes, and flashed a mischievous smile. He pulled the original darts out of his pocket, and laid them in the Professor′s hand. "I didn′t expect you to be here."

"Obviously." The Professor pocketed the darts and returned to his seat, signaling Andrew for another brew.

They flipped and Seamus won, choosing Cricket as the first game. A player accumulated points by landing on any number, until his opponent "closed" a number by scoring three darts in it. The target included rings that doubled or tripled the value scored.