Wizard Dawning

by C. M. Lance

  Sig walked over and bent down to look. “Potentiometer?”

  “It measures stored magical energy. It tells us what potential a person holds to affect the flux before and after exercising magic. Over here we measure magic expenditure, or how much the flux changes. Combine the information and you arrive at a measure of efficiency. We compare the change in potential against magic actually expended. The difference between potential change and the expended magic gives the amount of dissipation. Less dissipation means higher efficiency.”

  “Does the potential decrease after magic is expended?”

  “Yes it does. We also measure how quickly the potential rebuilds, among other things.”

  “And my results?”

  She pointed to a reading on one screen. “Your potential almost runs off the chart, see here, here, and here, where it peaks when you try to do something; but when you try to release it, nothing happens, as measured over here.” She pointed to the other screen.

  “Now look at the how your potential slowly bleeds off, without any release. See, the potential is still diminishing from your last peak. We usually see a sharp drop in potential on that display, with an accompanying jump in magic expended on this one. We compare the drop in potential here, with the peak of power expended there to determine efficiency.”

  She turned to look up at him. “You could say that you have zero efficiency. Everything dissipates. Nothing gets expended. I got the same results in both forms. Professor what do you make of this?”

  Sig turned away from Giselle, toward the Professor, who stroked his mustache with his fingertips, while studying the display screens.

  Giselle said, “Is that a sword on your back?”

  Sig turned and unsheathed Aðalbrandr. “Oh, this little thing?” He waggled it and she tensed.

  She smiled slowly. “I just thought about the expression on Arianna’s face if you transform the next time you spar hand-to-hand. Now, I want to see the expression on Bella’s face when you pull out that sword.” She gave him a huge grin. “I really, really want to see that.”

  Then her face got serious. “What are you?”

  “I’m told I’m a Battle Wizard.”

  “Uhm, I’ve heard about those, but don’t know anything about them. They’re rare.”

  “Well that makes us even. I don’t know much about it either.”

  The Professor walked to the table with the candelabrum. “Come examine this.”

  Sig and Giselle walked over.

  He looked up at Sig. “Observe the bowl. What do you see?”

  Sig blinked. “That’s Professor Balcescu. She’s standing on the front porch at my house, holding a cup of coffee, and looking up at us.” The image slowly faded from the water.

  “Yes, she’s quite sensitive. You tried a viewing that didn’t work - until now.” He pointed to the candelabrum. “Now observe there.”

  One of the candles had melted and formed a puddle on the table. Sig poked it with a finger. Warm, but not hot enough to burn. “Yes, I know how it’s supposed to work. Grampa demonstrated it for me too, but I can’t do that.”

  The Professor looked up into his face. “I didn’t cause that.”

  Sig looked to Giselle who again stared at the console. “There are several magical output peaks that weren’t here before.”

  “Yes. They showed up while you two were bantering.”

  “So someone interfered?”

  Giselle shook her head at Sig. “We do calibration here because this room is shielded; both magically and physically, with lining in the walls. No one outside this room can interfere.”

  The Professor tapped his lips with an index finger. “What scene did you concentrate upon when you attempted distance viewing?”

  “I wanted to see how Mom was doing.” He gazed into the bowl of clear water.

  “Yes, that would explain the viewing phenomenon.”

  Giselle walked up. “What about the candle. It takes more energy to melt a candle into a puddle than to light a wick. What does he have, magical Tourette's syndrome?”

  “Let’s pray not. That would be a great deal more perilous that uttering random profanities. No, this resembles a delayed reaction. Was this the candle you focused upon, Sigurd?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it’s not a question of your not having magic. As Giselle said, your readings are almost off the chart. Something prevents release. Then it spills out. You recognize the presence of magical beings even when in disguise, such as the zombies and the demon. Those facts suggest a line of inquiry. Not a resolution, but it suggests an investigational bearing.”

  “What should I do in the meantime?”

  “Continue as you are. Attend to me as we’ve discussed but don’t attempt any magic outside this room. Practice your martial skills. I’ve seen Bella in action, it could be humorous to see her face as Giselle suggests. Or, you could use this room when tests aren’t scheduled.”

  Sig straightened until his helm touched the ceiling. “It’s a little tight in here for me.”

  “Yes, you need to practice in both natures, but discretely. Giselle won’t divulge your secret.” He turned to her. “Can we depend upon your compatriots’ discretion as well?”

  She looked affronted. “Of course! They’re my tribe.”

  “Will you request it of them should the need arise?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine, today’s assignment is concluded. Thank you.”

  Sig shifted shapes. After the Professor left, he asked Giselle, “Does he always talk like that?”

  “Always. You’ll get used to it. He learned English in a different time.”

  “How old is he?”

  “At least 250.”

  “Wow. I wouldn’t have guessed him to be a day over 200.”

  Giselle rolled her eyes. “No magic, and no comedy skills either.”

  “Maybe it will result in delayed laughter.”

  Her mouth quirked almost into a smile.

  “See, the mirth starts to spill over.”

  Chapter 24

  Sig arrived at the Professor’s home to the sight of Rick pacing across the porch. He forgot that he and Rick arranged to go out for supper again. Physically sore and mentally drained from his sessions with the Amazons and the Professor, Sig didn’t look forward to it.

  However, Rick had the boundless energy of a Were and wanted to get into the social scene. Sig didn’t want to let him down.

  Rick climbed into the passenger seat of Sig’s truck and said, “A kid rode a pony in the dark, past the Professor’s fence a couple of times while I waited.” An eight-foot, magically shielded rock and wrought iron fence surrounded the three-acre estate.

  Sig considered for a moment, before he said, “There are quite a few yards in the neighborhood where people keep horses. The Professor’s place is one of the small ones.”

  “Yeah, but I worry about a kid riding in the dark. There are lots of shadows; cars might not see him or her.”

  “OK, I’ll be careful and watch out for the kid. Let’s go. This has to be an early night for me.”

  They got into Sig’s truck and drove down the driveway. At the street, Sig stopped and looked both ways. Rick pointed past Sig, “Look, I think that’s the kid on the pony. Maybe you can talk to him about Dressage stuff and tell him to be careful.”

  Sig looked to his left, through the shadows next to the fence; a person mounted on something the size of a small horse ran toward them. As it approached, Sig realized it didn’t move right for a horse.

  The smell of evil fermenting in the belly of hatred washed over him. His eyes widened. “That’s not a horse…”

  Rick shouted. “It’s a wolf.”

  Sig stomped on the gas, but the rider and wolf were upon them. Before the truck could roll more than a few feet, a sword cleaved through the roof, the window behind his seat, and into the floor. Broken glass sprayed. The truck stalled.

  Rick dove out of the passenger door. Sig clutched his
medallion and shouted “Aðalbrandr”. He shoved the door into the huge wolf and his rider. Sig’s head slammed into the roof but the push gave him enough clearance to duck, squeeze out, and unsheathe his sword.

  He brought it up and blocked a sword slash to his head, dove, and rolled away, rising to his feet just in time. The wolf pivoted. Sig blocked blows the warrior rained down upon him from the wolf’s back. The surprising force of the blows caused Sig to use a two-handed Kendo grip. The rider chopped and slashed, sword in one hand.

  The midnight black wolf dove low and snapped at his ankles. Sig shoved its head into the ground before it could fasten on his leg. Sword slashes continued to slam at him. Sig had to use a one handed grip on Aðalbrandr while he clutched the back of the wolf’s neck. The blows drove his sword back.

  The wolf pulled free and reared on two legs, tall enough to go for his throat. Sig seized it below the jaw to keep it away. Its jaws gaped wider, wider than any real wolf could, and its teeth lengthened, stretching toward his face.

  Another wolf slammed into the black beast, grabbing and savaging its ear. Rick to the rescue.

  The two wolves rolled away in a writhing ball.

  The rider leapt to the ground without a glance at the wolves now ripping and snarling at each other. He advanced on Sig with a shuffling step, slashing and stabbing. Sig gave ground, back toward the fence. He fought for his life against an attacker half his size. Several cuts on his arms and side attested to the danger he was in. The relentless rider forced Sig back. He pinned him against the fence. Blood from his cuts made Sig’s grip on Aðalbrandr slippery.

  One of the fighting wolves squealed. Sig’s adversary paused. Sig took the opportunity to slice through a 3-inch diameter tree and swing it to strike the rider in the side of his feathered helmet He fell to the ground.

  Lying on the ground, the man gestured. The tree in Sig’s hand burst into flame. Startled, he flung it at the rider. The flaming tree caught the helmet on fire.

  The rider rolled to his feet and screeched, like a hawk. The black wolf disengaged. The rider jumped on his back, and they bounded away, flames trailing from the burning helmet.

  Rick started to give chase but Sig stopped him. He didn’t want Rick to run into an ambush.

  A roar from behind made Sig whirl and raise his sword. A huge flaming ball hurtled toward him. He swung his sword at it and knocked it aside, away from Rick. Another followed and he batted it back in the direction it had come from. Trees next to the fence ignited when it landed among them.

  Sig assumed a guard stance, but nothing else materialized.

  Rick stepped into the shadows and changed. Sig decided to maintain his shape.

  Professor Herman pulled up in a Maybach 62S. Sig’s mouth dropped open, distracted from the wolf and rider, while he gawked at the car. The Professor looked up at him through the clear moon roof. The Maybach is what a Rolls Royce would be if they added more leading edge technology and even more power.

  Sig’s truck and the still flaming tree blocked the driveway entrance. The Professor climbed out of his vehicle, surveyed the damage to Sig’s truck with a quick glance, and took in the flaming tree blocking the gateway. “What occurred here?”

  “A man with a sword riding a huge wolf attacked us.”

  Rick said, “It wasn’t a Were. It wasn’t a real wolf, but it wasn’t a Were. It didn’t smell right.” Sig didn’t like the look of the slashes on Rick’s arms and shoulders. Blood ran from gaping cuts and soaked his shirt.

  Professor Herman gestured toward the house. “Let’s get behind the warded fence.”

  Sig grabbed the tree, threw it to the side, changed forms, and jumped into his stalled truck. It fired up immediately. As he backed up, he heard a screech and then a sword sliced through the roof on the passenger side, spraying him with glass again before it ripped off the door. The truck stalled again.

  A fireball passed over his head and struck the rider, knocking him off his wolf.

  Sig looked over at the Professor who stood with his upper body out of his car’s moon roof. Smoke drifted up from his hands.

  Sig tried again and the truck started. He mashed the accelerator. Tires squealed as he backed up the driveway into the Professor’s estate followed closely by the Maybach. The rider leapt back on his wolf as Sig passed through gateway. They pursued but an invisible barrier at the gate stopped them. The rider squealed again. He raised his arm and hurled the largest fireball Sig had yet seen. Sig held his hands up in front of his face instinctively, knowing it was futile.

  The fireball splattered against an invisible wall where the gates would normally be. Flame erupted in all directions except into the estate. The fighter in the feathered helmet screeched again. The sound made Sig’s teeth ache.

  Rick and the Professor ran up the stairs onto the expansive porch. The Professor turned and hurled a flaming ball of energy back at the rider. It passed through the invisible wall, but the warrior slapped it aside with his blade. The rider’s shrieks crescendoed as he and the wolf paced back and forth in front of the entrance.

  Back in his battle form, Sig stood with sword raised. Professor Herman shouted. “Get into the house, swiftly. If he’s alone, we will be safe. If he arrived here with his demon legions, I’m uncertain as to the outcome. Quickly now, into the house.”

  Sig sprinted up the steps, ducked under the doorway, and joined Rick in the house. The Professor followed more slowly, backing across the porch, watching for an attack. Sig turned to Rick prepared to render aid, but his wounds weren’t as severe as they had appeared outside and the bleeding had stopped.

  Sig slammed the door shut when the Professor entered and checked the wards he had set inside the house. Satisfied, he walked to the parlor, sank onto the divan, and smiled thinly at Sig and Rick.

  Rick asked, “What was that about demon legions? Tell me I misheard.” Amazingly, Rick’s wounds had almost healed. The blood soaking his shirt revealed how severe they had been.

  The Professor raised his hand, index finger pointing up, and then brought it down to point at the front door. “That is Andras, a great marquis of Hell. If memory serves, he commands thirty legions of demons.”

  “Thirty legions? Isn’t that approximately equal to a buttload of demons?”

  The Professor looked at Rick levelly for a moment while he considered the question. “I expect his legions would be with him if he arrived here on his own recognizance. However, if a black mage summoned him, he is most likely here by himself. Summoning even one demon lord takes enormous power, much less him and his legions.

  “Since he’s here, can’t he just summon his demons?”

  “He can’t if he’s being controlled by someone else. It appears we’re in luck.”

  Sig, back to his human self, turned to them and let the curtain drop. “In luck? Have you seen my truck? What am I going to tell the insurance company? ‘Some dude on a wolf tried to slice it in half while I was in it.’”

  “Be happy you will be able to talk to an insurance adjuster and not to Samael, the angel of death.”

  Sig turned pale. “That puts a different perspective on it. But, if we don’t have a visit from this Sam guy, I need to come up with an explanation.”

  “Why don’t we wait to see if he brought his thirty legions? If he did, your truck’s damage will be moot.”

  Rick asked, “So, he has thirty demon legions at his command. Shouldn’t we be looking for a place to hide, preferably under a rock, or lots of rock? Under Cheyenne Mountain may be a good place to start. ”

  “OK, my truck’s not important; got it. Nevertheless, he’s out there. How are we going to get out of here when he’s out there with his thirty legions? Only the magic wards have stopped him. What if they fail against his legions?”

  “Again, I don’t believe his demon host accompanied him. Further, few demons are more dangerous to summon than Andras. Controlling a pack of rabid dogs would be far easier. If the summoner plans to stay alive, he will have to send him
back soon.”

  “The guy in the feathered helmet is a real badass, huh?” asked Rick. “Are your wards strong enough to keep him out?”

  “The wards appear to be holding, but time will tell. That’s not a helmet. In his earthly incarnation he has the head of an owl, rides an enormous black wolf, and bears an invincible sword.”

  Sig said, “Invincible? It wasn’t invincible. He was really good with it, but not invincible.”

  “Perhaps, it seemed that way, because you also bear an invincible sword. That raises the age-old question; ‘What happens when an immovable object meets an irresistible force?’ Perhaps now we know. It depends on the wielders.”

  “C’mon Professor, you’ll make his head swell.”

  “Ah, but the larger the head, the easier it is to lop off.”

  Sig looked between them and felt uncomfortable. Were they pulling for him or viewing him as a science experiment?

  Chapter 25

  They spent a restless night watching Andras and his wolf patrol the fence line. Sig finally fell asleep sitting on the porch watching him. Rick stayed awake and reported that there were no sightings after four o’clock in the morning. At dawn, Sig and Rick assumed their supernatural forms to patrol the perimeter, inside and out. The demon marquis and his wolf had left the building.

  Back inside, the Professor remarked on how quickly Rick had healed from his wounds.

  “As you know, professor, we Weres heal quickly, but this time was quicker than most. Maybe it has to do with the wolf not being real. It didn’t smell or act like either a Were or a wolf. I don’t know what it was.”

  “The wolf apparition you fought is part of the demon Andras, not a separate being. It is part of his earthly façade.”

  “So I wiped the street with a façade? Damn, I thought I had accomplished something.” Rick frowned.

  “Au contraire, you battled and defeated one of the marquis of Hell,” the Professor said with a smile.

  “Defeated is a strong word. He did squeal and escape from me and then they both ran, but when they came back we ran.”