Wizard Dawning (The Battle Wizard Saga, No. 1) (9 page)

For every failure in magic, they could celebrate at least one new physical training accomplishment. They were both surprised, but not nearly as much as Bjørn, when Sig lifted him as easily as he used to lift Czar.

The biggest problem was control. The new strength and speed at his command took getting used to. Several items around the farm ended up broken. Sig cracked the backhoe when he used it to haul the tractor out of a muddy ditch. He had to repair a pasture fence, after playfully lifting the corner post out of the ground and ripping the cross members loose in the process.

Sig chased horses around the pasture. After he caught them, they cautiously sniffed the strange new being in their world.

Czar didn't know what to do when Sig caught him from behind and picked him up before his teeth could snap shut on a fox he was chasing, running full tilt across a barren hay field.

Grampa Thor had Sig intensify his martial arts workouts in both forms. "In my experience, you may have more need for martial arts than magic, and it's a good way to get used to your new body."

"Grampa, I've been practicing for years. I'm ready."

"Your movement and reactions must be automatic. Unless you practice, the differences will make you hesitate. You can't afford that at a critical time."

Because of the extraordinary capabilities Sig demonstrated in Battle Wizard shape, Grampa bore down on magic training.

They spent hours each day going over spell drills, making Sig memorize incantations that accomplished nothing when Sig attempted them. Grampa drove him relentlessly to try wielding enchanted tools including scrying glasses, wands, globes, bones, pentacles, and whatever Grampa brought with him or could summon.

Their mutual frustration grew.

"Focus, feel, concentrate. You need to absorb the essence of the wand to manipulate it," Grampa growled in exasperation.

With a bellow, Sig hurled the wand across the arena. It stabbed into a wooden pillar and stuck there. "I'm concentrating until my head is about to explode. You just say again, again, again. I might as well pound my head against that post. I'd accomplish the same thing."

Grampa held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Alright, take it easy. Maybe we need a break."

"Taking a break to start doing the same things over and over again that haven't worked isn't going to help. They say consistently repeating the same wrong thing is a sure sign of lunacy."

"OK, I'll try to come up with a new approach, or some new ideas." Grampa walked over to the backpack he'd brought into the arena earlier and pulled out an ancient looking leather bound book.

He brought it over and handed it to Sig. "Study the spells marked with sticky tabs. We can try them next."

The book was heavy. The burnished leather smelled musty and showed the mottling and darkened patina of much handling. The yellow Post-It tabs were a jarring contrast against the soft, slightly cracked animal hide of the ancient looking tome.

Sig sighed. He might not be able to perform any magic, but he could study and remember.

In his last semester of high school, Sig only needed one class to graduate. He made time for the intense study and training by dropping two of the three optional advance placement classes he was taking at the local junior college. He continued the AP geology class.

†††

Sig played with his milk glass, swirling it about, while working on his second helping of dinner.

Mom watched him for a few moments before asking, "What's bothering you?"

Sig glanced at her guiltily. "What makes you think anything is wrong?"

"Because you've only had two helpings and you're fiddling around as if you're finished. We expect you to have at least one more helping," Grampa said as he peered over the spectacles that rested on the end of his nose.

Meredith smiled and nodded. "You don't seem to be yourself dear."

Sig gulped down the milk remaining in the glass and thunked it down on the table. "I always wanted to have magic. Now that I do—kind of—it's not what I thought it would be. I can't do any of the tricks Grampa tries to teach me and, meanwhile he says I'm supposed to lead the fight against dark magic. Oh yeah, and there might be a Dark Mage trying to kill me."

Mom looked down at her plate as if to conceal the concern reflected in her eyes.

"They aren't tricks," Grampa said. "They are serious tools needed for you to fulfill your destiny. And by-the-way, they are only a small part of what you need to learn."

"Great. That fills me with confidence. I can't do even a small part of what I need. That begs another question. Who decided that that is my destiny? Don't I get a say in any of this?"

"Your genes decided for you," Grampa growled. Then he glanced embarrassedly at Meredith. His face crumpled and his mouth sagged.

Sig glanced to see what caused the change in Grampa's expression. Tears were running down Mom's cheeks.

"Aw, I'm sorry Mom. We didn't mean to upset you."

She shook her head. "I'm worried about you."

Sig stood, grabbed a container of Kleenex off the kitchen counter, and brought it to her. "Don't cry. It'll be alright. I'm just frustrated because I'm trying so hard. I didn't mean all that stuff."

She swiped at her eyes with tissue, as if embarrassed at the tears. "It's not what you said that upsets me." She scrubbed at the tears running down her cheeks.

She glared at Grampa Thor then back at Sig. "As if the zombies weren't bad enough, this thing about leading the war on black magic terrifies me. You're just a boy. I don't care if you can turn into a giant. You're my little boy." Her voice caught. "I don't want you involved in a war. It's not like going to war to protect your country." She sniffed and blew her nose.

She looked back at Grampa, who had his head down, looking at his plate.

He looked up and into her eyes. "Meredith, whenever Black magic holds sway, terrible practices become standard. Human sacrifices that occurred in the ancient Indus valley, in Mesoamerica by the Mayans, Aztecs, and Incas all are the result of Dark Mages controlling those civilizations. The atrocities committed by the Third Reich and the Russian pogroms all had roots in rulers under the influence of Black magic. We are in a constant war to prevent them from dragging our civilization down. It's not a war that starts and stops."

Meredith returned his look with one filled with anguish. "Why Sig?"

Grampa nodded. "Alright, let's review the situation. Sig is now a Battle Wizard. We can't change that, at least not until he can pass Aðalbrandr along. I can't take it back. Passing it on is permanent. I don't think anyone outside of our line can receive it."

"Maybe we can advertise on eBay," she said with a weak smile.

"He can't even put it in a dresser drawer and forget about it. Once bonded, he can't get far from it."

"Why, what happens?" Sig asked with a concerned look.

Grampa pursed his lips, and then said, "Your essence is bound with it. I'll call it feeling of discomfort that goes beyond extreme. If you and it get separated, you will ache until you are reunited. It's best if you wear Aðalbrandr all the time."

Sig clutched the amulet inside his shirt and looked at Mom, to find her watching him. He gave her a weak smile before he let it go and turned back to Grampa.

"A Black Wizard orchestrated the zombie attack, with Sig as the target." Grampa said with a frown.

"But you were here too. Maybe they were after you."

"I've thought about it. No one knew I planned to come here and even if it was a lucky guess, they certainly didn't know when I would arrive. No, it was a coincidence that I arrived when I did."

"A lucky coincidence. If you had been a few hours later . . .," Sig said.

Grampa forced a smile and then looked at Meredith. "Since there is a Dark Mage after him, I think the fact that he is a Battle Wizard is a good thing, even if he doesn't have all his powers."

"Can't we get the Mage to leave him alone if he doesn't have his powers?"

"No." He vehemently shook his head. "Don't forget that he attacked before Sig had
any
powers. We won't get a break. Black Mages don't understand fair play." He glanced at Meredith and then Sig. "The more power Sig has the better. That's why I'm pushing so hard."

"I understand Grampa," Sig said. "Sorry I lost my temper."

"I don't understand," Meredith said. "How can he lead your war against Black Magic if he doesn't have his powers? That sounds like a sure way to get killed."

"You're right. Because our Battle Wizard line has always led the fight, I've unreasonably assumed that Sig would immediately step into the role. I have to remember that he's dealing with burdens others haven't had to overcome—lack of experience and training, and the fact that his powers are slow in coming."

"Do you feel like you're holding a Remedial Wizards class?" Sig said with a smile.

"I admit that I get a little frustrated too," Grampa said with a chuckle. "We'll both need to rein in our tempers."

"While you two are getting along famously, I'll still be worried."

"Worried, even scared is a good when dealing with a Dark Mage. However, we have to deal with it." He stood and walked to the pot on the stove. "Now, I'd like another helping of your delicious Chili Verde before Sig eats it all."

Madeline was hunched over her Geology text when Sig arrived at the library. He paused. Her thrust forward shoulders allowed the scoop necked; long sleeve, pink T-shirt to expose an enjoyable amount of cleavage. He thought of melons suspended.

Her eyes rose toward him in a languid knowing look before they widened and her smile flashed at him. "There you are. I wondered if you forgot."

He blushed. "Sorry, we had a family discussion and I lost track of the time."

"No problems I hope?"

"Naw. My Grampa is in town and we got to talking about stuff. I hate to miss a chance to learn about our family."

"Do you have a big family?"

"No, I'm an only child, Mom's an only, and Dad was an only, Grandfather and Great-Grampa too. I don't guess we're very fecund."

She nodded. "Nice word, meaning highly fertile." And then she smiled sadly. "You don't have to have a big family for it to be special. I know."

"What about you?" Sig asked.

"I'm an only child too. Now it's just me."

"If it doesn't hurt to talk about it, tell me, what's special about your family?"

With chin propped on her fists, she regarded him solemnly. Her eyes looked down for a moment then rose toward the ceiling before she took a deep shuddering breath. "My Dad and Mom met in college. It was like a storybook, him an All-America football player and her, a cheerleader. He decided not to play pro football and instead went to law school. I showed up in his second year of law school. Mom worked to help put him through." She paused and looked to the side and down. Her lip quivered.

"Hey I'm sorry. You don't need to talk about it."

"No, I want to, I need to. I've been holding it inside and it helps to tell someone." She looked up with a smile. "Someone who understands."

Sig reached out to put his hand on her forearm.

She placed her hand over his hand for a beat, then picked his up and kissed the fingertips. "Thanks for being there for me. I needed this. What's the word? Catharsis?"

Sig forgot the meaning of 'catharsis' as a tingle ran through his arm and down his sides.

She released his hand and he folded it with the other one on top of his geology text. He inhaled deeply and said "So, where are we in the lesson plan?"

"We have to decide on our lab project," she giggled.

It sounded like music.

"I have information on the caves my uncle told me about." She continued. "From what he told me it sounds perfect. Not many people know about them. Stalactites and stalagmites galore, plus an underground lake. It will blow the class away."

"A lake? The caves must be really big."

"Uncle said it has a lake. It might be a pond or just a spring. We need to take a look at it before we propose it as a field trip for the class. I need this grade. I don't want to take them somewhere disappointing."

"Yeah that would not be cool."

"The stalactites might have all fallen and the lake may just be a dried up puddle."

Sig shook his head. "Not good."

"Why don't we go look at it this weekend? If it looks good, we'll propose it for our project. We could even make it a picnic. I've never had an underground picnic," she said with a brilliant smile.

"How about Saturday afternoon?"

"Perfect" she said as she jumped to her feet. "I'll bring the food, you bring something to drink."

"Ok and I'll bring a flashlight and rope."

She grabbed him around the waist and pulled him close. "Mr. Practical. I like that."

"It's a date." He sighed when she released him to pick up her books. She felt so soft and warm.

"Walk you out?" He asked.

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "No thanks. I'm out that way," pointing to the back door. "But it's nice of you to offer. She let his hand go, turned, and walked away.