Wizard Dawning (The Battle Wizard Saga, No. 1) (8 page)

She got up and scootched her chair closer to look down at his book with him. Tendrils of her hair brushed his neck as she leaned forward to sit back down on a leg she curled under her. He shivered before he flipped pages until he reached his planned starting point.

He glanced down at the text then turned towards her. "Mr. Sanderson is pretty easy to study for. He gives lots of reading assignments, but if he talks about it in class, it'll be on the test. If he doesn't, don't worry about it." He murmured towards the side of her head. Her ear poked out between curly cascades of hair like a delicate seashell.

He pulled his attention back to the text. "Luckily, geology doesn't build on previous information like Physics or Geometry. We can just review what we've covered since the last test. I have it all marked in the book."

They spent the next two hours reviewing Sig's notes. Madeline dutifully copied Sig's notes into her text book in precise, elegant handwriting and highlighted passages that Sig emphasized.

Sig frequently found himself distracted by her scent, the glint of highlights in her hair, or the way she touched his arm when she asked questions.

After Dad died, he knew he withdrew into a shell. Dating didn't seem worth the effort, neither did most social interactions. Solitary activities and individual competitions against all but faceless opponents allowed him to hide inside the emotional walls he grew. Martial arts and fencing violence appealed to a need. The increasing number of fouls he committed signaled that he wanted to hurt something, but didn't know what. He had to be careful not to lose control.

Perhaps because of their shared loss, Mom became his mainstay. He had distanced himself from others. He regretted the sullenness he had displayed toward Grandfather Edward. He could never make up for it now.

His fencing and martial arts coaches were tolerated because they taught violent techniques to feed his pent up anger. The few friends he kept in touch with were science nerds like him. Of course, besides science, they had a shared passion—Mom's cooking.

He studied with Madeline because he needed her partnership to get the grade he needed for college. Surprisingly, he found he liked being with her. She had a calming affect and aroused an awareness that yearned to tear through the emotional shell he had erected.

"What are you thinking? You seem distracted." Madeline asked as she turned to look into his eyes.

Sig snapped out of his reverie. "Hmmm, I think my brain is fried. I can only concentrate for so long before I need brain food, like a burger and fries or a brat with onions, peppers, and kraut."

"Yummm. You know how to romance a girl. Where can we get something like that?"

"The best place in town is Bull McCabe's. It's at the end of Main Street, near the snowmobile trail. It's a main stop when the trail is open. I'll warn you that with the recent snow, it may be crowded."

"Snowmobile trail? You're serious?"

"You betcha, it's a big sport around here. You can go from one end of the state to the other on snowmobile trails. Almost every two miles there's a bar and grill."

"We don't have snowmobile trails where I come from and there are more yogurt or coffee shops than bars and grills."

Sig stared over her head for a moment.

She waved her hand in front of his face. "Hello?"

He shook his head and smiled. "I'm trying to picture a bunch of guys talking sports over yogurt and a smoothie. Every time the picture comes into focus, they're all wearing tutus."

She chuckled. "I don't want to see it. It sounds frightful."

He sighed. "I changed it to a beer and brats and now they're back in regular clothes.'

She gathered her books into a backpack. "Let's go and join them. Studying makes me hungry."

They met at Bull McCabe's. Sig arrived first and watched her pull a BMW convertible with California plates into the space next to his four-wheel drive pickup. BMWs aren't very practical for rural Minnesota. She probably looked forward to the coming warmer weather. Dad told a college buddy from Texas, when asked what they did in Minnesota during the summer, "If summer falls on a weekend, I like to go fishing."

Sig pointed out six snowmobiles parked on the side of the building.

Madeline asked, "It's getting dark; do they leave them here all night?"

"No, they have headlights." He pointed to the front of one. "They can drive all night."

"Oh, I'm learning a lot. I'll stick close and let you teach me about my new home."

Inside, six of the twelve tables held patron's attention focused on two large screen TVs tuned to hockey.

Sig directed her to a booth in back.

"Do you play hockey?"

"Everybody in Minnesota plays hockey. Even Mrs. Booth, at the bank, played goalie."

"You're kidding."

"No, she really did. Not everyone plays. I only played a bit when I was young before I got interested in other sports."

"What sports?"

"Football, basketball, martial arts, and riding. Now, mostly martial arts and riding."

"Oh a tough guy. Are you a black belt?"

"Yeah."

"Did you decide you didn't like football and basketball?"

"We had a family issue last year and I lost interest in team sports."

"I heard that your father died last year. I'm sorry to hear that. I know it hurts."

"Thank you. Yes, it does."

"I know because that's why I moved here. My parents died last year in a plane wreck and my uncle asked me to move here until I go to college."

"Both parents? I'm sure sorry to hear that. Wow, and you had to move from California to Minnesota. Your life has really been screwed up. At least I still have Mom."

She bit her lip and looked down at the menu. After a lengthy silence she said, "Mom was my best friend."

Sig reached across the table and rubbed her shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

After a few seconds, she looked up and smiled at him. Her eyes were red. "Thank you. Sometimes I forget how much it hurts."

Looking back down at the menu, she asked, "What's a California burger?"

Sig startled at the change of subject said, "I guess they have tomatoes and lettuce."

"Don't all burgers have that?" She frowned at the menu.

"I guess in California they do." He said with a wry smile.

She looked up at him with a grin and they both laughed.

They both ordered California burgers, fries, and root beer. Over the meal they continued to discuss their geology project.

The Dark Mage hurled his scrying glass across the room to smash into the bookshelf. The frame deformed and sprang half way back toward him as the lens shattered. He stepped forward before the frame landed. His foot slapped at it like a soccer forward launching a cross field pass.

Following a choked curse, he limped back and collapsed into the seat behind the intricately carved heavy oak desk. He lifted the kicking foot onto his lap and began to rub it while a thunderous scowl took over his expression.

"He was at school today. I'd have to guess that your grand plan didn't succeed," the witch said with a smirk.

The Dark Mage snarled, "Seventeen zombies destroyed. It took almost a year to raise that many to sentience. Their parts now lay in muck at the bottom of a frozen Minnesota lake. A year's work for naught."

"Seventeen zombies couldn't finish a high school boy? Did you use the proper spells? Perhaps you erred in performing the animation incantation."

"There was nothing wrong with the spell," the Mage roared. He paused, tight lipped. His nostrils flared to inhale a deep breath. The foot rubbing continued through a shuddering exhalation.

After another deep breath he growled, "Who could expect his great-grandfather would show up the very day I set loose my pack of living dead? Zombies enough for a seventeen year old boy are child's play for a Battle Wizard. Even one near to death."

"Now I suppose that I will have to take care of what you and your zombies couldn't," the witch sneered.

He affixed her with a baleful stare. Her head turned down. Perhaps she had gone too far.

"You came to me, witch. If you hope to learn to bind a Djinn or Marid demon to your commands, yes you will take care of the boy," the Mage whispered.

The witch hissed. "I gave you the spell to cloak a demon while it attacks. It is because of me the Battle Wizard is dying. You owe me the binding spell."

Teeth drew back in a rictus of a smile before the Mage said, "My dear, you were to help me destroy him. Instead he passed the talisman on. We now have a new Battle Wizard to defeat."

"The boy is now a Battle Wizard? I want no part of that."

The Mage seemed to puff up. "Thanks to my planning and the spell cast years ago when he was a child, the boy is a shadow of what he should be. He can transform, he will heal, he is impervious to most magic; but his powers are limited to what he can do inside his body. He can't cast spells, no fireballs, he can't summon lightning, or hurl cask quantities of water. He can't use a scrying glass, of even light a candle. Don't fear. He won't use any of his Wizard's power on you."

"But he can still assume Battle Wizard form and my spells and potions are useless on him. I'm no match for that," the witch said, shaking her head.

"That is because of his talisman. Remove it and he's just a seventeen year old boy," the Mage said with an arched eyebrow. "Use that feminine glamour you wear and are so inordinately proud of."

"This isn't a glamour. This is what I am."

"You claim to be centuries old. How can you have that appearance without a spell to make it so?"

"I discovered another spell to steal the youth of others. You don't think I hang out with teenage girls for the conversation do you?" She said mimicking his arched eyebrow. "If my friends start to look old at an early age, I just look for new friends . . . fresher friends."

"I hadn't really thought about it. You seem as one with them." He fashioned a crooked smile as if it pained him.

She glowered at him. "You fancy yourself as the expert on all things magical. How does the amulet make him resilient to magic?"

"That was lost over a thousand years ago. Its maker took his secret to the grave. I need to study the amulet to discover what it hides. That's why I sought your help."

"My help comes at a price."

"When he is taken care of I'll teach you the summoning and binding spell."

She walked to the desk and picked up the dagger he used to open letters. "Blood swear."

He hesitated before he held his hand up.

She muttered a spell and then pricked his palm with the needle-sharp point, drawing it toward his wrist. Blood welled and followed the wound downward. "Swear."

He nodded "By my blood, I swear to teach you the summoning spell when the boy is out of commission."

She leaned forward and licked the trail of blood running down his palm. She murmured to finalize the spell before she smiled, blood outlining her lips. "I bind your blood to this promise." The smile collapsed into a sneer and she hammered the point of the knife into his desk.

Straightening, she pulled the heavy drapes aside and retrieved the knotted, rune carved staff. Thicker than her wrist, it thrummed in her hand, like a race horse poised at the gate. Gilded cords fastened an assortment of dried spices, herbs, and feathers to its lower end. With a sweep of her arm and an incantation from a forgotten language, the window rattled and the panes swung open. Moonlight shimmered on the thick, time-polished shaft. She swung her leg over it before turning toward him. "If you don't keep your promise, your blood will boil. I
will
enjoy watching," she said.

With a wave of her hand the staff rose, pushing her into the air, and she soared out the window.

His upper lip shaped a snarl as he watched her form cross the moon's brilliant orb, before he shut and latched the window.

Sig and Grampa Thor practiced daily for the rest of the week and the weekend with no discernable improvement in Sig's magical capabilities. His physical capabilities were another story. Even Grampa Thor expressed amazement at what Sig could do in Battle form.