by C. M. Lance
She arched her eyebrows and looked at him reflectively.
Sig realized he still held her hand. He released it and stood back, still embarrassed. He wished she hadn’t said that in front of all the other women.
She gave him a crooked smile. “You have very good technique and exceptional quickness. I’ve been looking for an accomplished sparring partner. Would you like to try a few falls?”
“How about tomorrow? I have to go to work now.”
“I look forward to it.”
He looked around and saw Giselle in the back of the group watching. He waved to her. “Don’t leave without me. I’ll change and be right out.”
†††
Giselle waited in her idling Jeep when Sig exited the training facility. He threw his bag in the back, and got in beside her. She threw it into gear and accelerated away.
He looked straight ahead as he said, “Sixty-six years old, huh? She’s remarkably well preserved. What’s her secret, skin cream?”
Giselle chuckled. “That’s my mom.” She looked over at Sig. “She’ll look like that until she’s two hundred. It’s Amazon magic.”
“Amazon’s have magic too? Jeez, everyone has magic except me.” He slouched in his seat.
“Pardon me? What do you call it when you turn into that gigantic hunk that demolishes All-America football players?”
“You know what I mean. I’m supposed to have more magic. I work on it with the Professor every day. I need to find it to fight the Dark Mage who wants to kill me.”
“I think you’re lucky to have what you have. The Professor thinks the rest will come with time, as it does with us. I’m still waiting.”
“Really, he said that?”
She gave him a crooked smile. “What - that I’m still waiting?”
“No, the other… Never mind. You’re right, I am lucky. I used to wish for any kind of magic, and now I have this - and it’s more than I ever dreamed about. I get so frustrated working on what I don’t have that I forget to give thanks for what I do. Thanks for reminding me. What’s Amazon magic like?”
“It’s more subtle than yours. Aging slowly, being stronger and faster than normals. We have group magic. That’s why we stay in tribes. Amazons who leave the tribe, age faster and are weaker. But then, it also makes the tribe weaker when someone leaves.” She frowned.
“Is it like the power of a coven?”
“Please don’t ever compare us to witches again.” He looked at her profile. Her jaw flexed and she compressed her lips.
“Sorry, I’ll never do it again. I’m still learning magic etiquette. So, can your tribe do any other magic?”
She remained silent for a while. At a stop light, looking straight ahead she said, “If I told you that I’d have to kill you.” She turned and looked at him. The way she looked, he decided she was serious. Maybe the CIA got the saying from the Amazons. After all, they’ve been around a lot longer.
†††
As Sig parted from Giselle in the lab hallway, she smiled at him. Maybe she wasn’t pissed about the witches comparison.
Randy Wheatley, the research section head he worked for, had assigned Sig the task of documenting work done to make windmills more efficient. As Randy explained, windmills are most efficient within a band of wind speeds. Unfortunately, no one informed the wind about it.
Windmill designers contemplated operating efficiently within a broad band of conditions by the use of pivoting blades. Still, many days didn’t fit the model, even in ideal locations. Calm days resulted in little to no electrical output. In excessive wind conditions, windmills ‘feather’ - the blades pivot to be parallel to the airflow. It prevents damage but reduces electrical output.
Some magic practitioners specialize in wind control. The section recruited a few to determine the affect on wind and windmills.
Dottie, the wind witch, lounged in a canvas beach chair on the rooftop from which they conducted experiments when Sig carried three laptop computers up. He used them to take and record measurements. The table next to Dottie held a large glass of ice water. A small drink umbrella and a straw stuck out of it. The rotund, elderly witch with an easygoing disposition claimed it contained water and Sig took her word for it.
“Hi Wendy,” Sig called as he carried the computers to the measurement station.
She giggled while he fiddled with plugs and power switches. When they first met, she introduced herself as Dottie the wind witch. Sig said, “You should change your name to Wendy the Wind Witch. Then you can tell everyone that’s what the ‘www’ in Internet addresses stands for.” The idea delighted her and she told friends that she planned to change her name.
Sig downloaded Doppler radar readings to calibrate air mass movement measurements. He reviewed these with Dottie and she told him what changes she would produce. Sig recorded their discussions and the readings before and after Dottie’s magic. After an hour, measurements revealed that a pressure system had shifted in an unexpected direction. This would improve airflows for local windmills. More important, it was the movement that Dottie had planned earlier.
While Sig collected the laptops, Dottie hung around to chat. Sig said, “You told me that moving large scale air masses is more efficient than channeling gusts of wind through the windmills. Why is that?”
“Gusts of wind don’t last long enough to be effective. They can be showy.” She gestured and the five-by-eight notebook that Sig brought out with the computers blew off the measurement bench. With pages fluttering, it tumbled to the edge of the roof before it stopped. “But that little amount of wind would have almost no effect on the huge windmills. I can generate a gust big enough to move a windmill, but I couldn’t do it very long. However, carefully steering wind masses gets more bang for the buck. Once I get the wind mass moving correctly, it takes care of spinning the blades.”
“Is making wind blasts like throwing lightning?”
“Oh no, lightning control requires a much higher order of power. It takes great strength to control all the power in lightning. Nudging air masses is one thing, but only highest order wizards control lightning. Or those who practice the black.”
“Black magicians control lightning? Why can they do it and not other magicians and witches?”
“They don’t use their own power. They borrow power.” Her hazel eyes searched his. “You don’t want to be owing those they borrow from.” She shook her head. “No, they collect their debts with interest.”
“Demons?”
“And worse. If you ever encounter a black sorcerer throwing lightning, and live, you’ll remember the smell of hellfire.”
“It smells awful. It leaves a bad taste for hours.”
She looked at him sharply, with a frown. “You’ve been around dark magic?”
“Yes, with my Grampa. We got away from a dark wizard, but now Grampa’s in a coma.”
She put a hand on Sig’s forearm. “My good wishes are with him.” She patted his arm and left him to finish up.
She paused at the stairway from the roof, made a gesture, a wind slid Sig’s notebook back across the roof. It stopped at his feet.
He looked down at it and then at the closing stairway door. He heard her giggling laughter, before the door shut and cut it off.
Chapter 35
Sig finished work in time to meet Professor Herman for his daily session. The Professor seemed distracted when he arrived. Sig was in the middle of setting up some of the standard props before the Professor stopped him. “Do you mind if we skip today? I have some work that needs to get done before tomorrow morning.”
Sig shook his head, relieved for a reprieve. “No I don’t mind.”
“Thank you.”
Sig turned to leave, stopped, and turned back to the Professor. “Dottie told me that only high order wizards control lightning, or magicians who borrow power. Is she right and do you ever borrow power to throw lightning?”
Bent over his bench writing, the Professor stopped, stood, and turned to Si
g, considering. “Do you think I do?” He asked gently.
“All this is new to me. I don’t know. I never thought about it until Dottie told me a few minutes ago.”
Professor Herman nodded and then rubbed his temples. “Sigurd, I never reach into the dark. I cannot. I took a vow many years ago never to dabble in it. The vow is part of a pact I made with others, sealed magically. If I ever attempt to manipulate black magic, the others will know instantly and I will die, just as they would should they try. Your great-grandfather also took the vow.”
“Wow. Who are the others?”
“Our group fights the darkness, in whatever form it appears. That is the core of our solemn vow. Not experimenting in dark magic is merely a side light of our pact. We don’t reveal the identities of the others for fear they would become targets, as has Thorval.”
“But you just told me about him.”
Professor Herman said dryly, “As the most powerful Battle Wizard, he led our fight against Black Magic and was the focus of Dark Mages’ attention many times. Yes, he is a target, as I suspect you are.”
“Me? I’m not part of your club. I only lead in the number of failed magic spells. Why would anyone target me?”
“You are Thorval’s heir. Once they nullified him, they established you as their target, a brilliant strategic move, eliminate him, and go after you before your powers evidence.”
“Brilliant”, Sig said. Now he knew how a chess piece felt, calculatedly shoved around, sacrificed expediently.
“My research includes methods to unleash your powers.”
Sig raised his hands. “If that’s what you’re working on, I’ll leave you to it and wish you the best of luck.”
The Professor smiled at him benignly. “I’m working on that and your ‘turd’.
“Please work on unleashing first.”
Professor Herman nodded and turned back to his writing.
Chapter 36
Giselle was studying in her room when the door opened. The Commander walked in, looked around, and walked over to the shelves bracketing the only window in the room. Books filled them from floor to ceiling except for spaces reserved for a few trophies and plaques. She scanned the titles.
She picked up a plaque and turned to Giselle who lay watching her.
“Deans list again. I wondered why you weren’t in the meeting room with the rest of the girls. Busy studying I assume.”
“It’s not easy maintaining Dean’s list.” Giselle placed a pencil in the Wave Physics book she held and laid it on the bed.
“Yet you find time to spend with Sigurd Stromgard?”
“We work together and Professor Herman asked me to help out with some of the work Sig does. His car died and, since we go the same places; training, school, and work, I offered to give him rides. I’m not the only one who chauffeurs him.”
“You are the only Amazon.”
“I’m the only Amazon who works with him.”
“He’s an attractive boy, and quite skilled, if a bit on the scrawny side.”
“He’s not so bad.” She replied noncommittally.
“Are you friends with him?”
“We’re coworkers. We talk when we ride together and at work. He’s nice and he’s smart. His company is pleasant.” Giselle looked out the window.
“Amazons don’t have boyfriends. Men have but one use, and then you move on.”
“Yes Commander, I am aware of that.”
“Giselle, I have great expectations of you. I don’t want you diverted from your purpose… by a man. Besides work, training, and rides, you’ve also spent time with him and his Were friend at social sites.”
Giselle turned her head from the window and looked at her mother. “Yes I have. You don’t need spies to tell you that. I’m willing to admit it.”
“I don’t want you associating with him anymore.”
“We work together. Do you want me to quit?”
“No, nothing that drastic. Perhaps I can arrange something tomorrow.”
She turned and left the room. Giselle stared at the door long afterwards.
Chapter 37
Giselle seemed subdued when she drove Sig to school in the morning. Sig honored her reticence. Five minutes into the drive she said, “I can’t drive you anymore.”
Sig glanced at her, but she focused on her driving. He replied, “OK, Mom called and told me she received the insurance money for my truck. I’ve been thinking of getting a Jeep like this one. I like it a lot.”
She smiled faintly and nodded.
He examined her profile. “It’s not because I compared Amazons to witches is it?”
That produced a small chuckle. “No, it’s not that.”
“Does it have anything to do with your mother, the Commander?”
She exhaled a sigh. “She thinks I’m spending too much time in your company.”
Sig took a moment for that to sink in. “It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”
“She feels men only have one purpose and friendship isn’t part of it.”
“One purpose? What’s the purpose?”
She swiveled her head slowly, looked at him, and then turned back to the road.
“Oh… C’mon it’s not like I’ve thought about that.”
She did the head turn thing again and widened her eyes.
“Well… maybe once…” She continued looking at him. “… or twice. Occasionally.”
“You’re cute when you’re beet red,” she said with a crooked smile.
She pulled in front of the Technological Institute for his summer physics class. “Your stop.”
He opened the door, then turned back to her, and stuck out a hand. “Thank you for being so nice to me. I appreciate the rides and I enjoy your company. I’d like to stay friends. Maybe someday we can pick up where we left off.”
She gave him a sad smile. “Yes, I’d like that.” Her grip tightened as the smile evaporated. “Be careful with mother this afternoon. She seemed strange yesterday. I don’t want you to get hurt.” She let go of his hand.
He got out of the Jeep, and then leaned back down. “Isn’t it a little late to want Amazon’s to stop hurting me?” He gave her a smile, stood, shut the door, and patted the roof.
†††
Sig walked to the training facility and changed clothes. He found a corner to loosen and warm up. After a few minutes, Rowena joined in stretching. She wore loose black gi pants and a tight fitting t-shirt. Sig couldn’t help but observe some of her stretches. She showed off smooth layers of muscle, along with other attributes, which piqued his interest.
Sig finished off with a back walkover, then another, which he held at the top and straightened into a handstand. Holding the pose for about a minute, he then lowered himself slowly and rolled onto his back. His legs pulled up towards his head, and then shot straight up, while he pushed up from the floor with hands over his shoulders to kip-up onto his feet. He rolled his shoulders and turned toward Rowena.
She held a handstand, which she lowered into a roll onto her back, and then kipped-up. When she turned to him, he bowed. She returned the bow and said, “Ready?”
“Ready.” Before he had a chance to straighten up, he had to pull his head out of the way of a kick, glad for previous exposure to Amazon fighting techniques.
She followed up with a flurry of snap kicks and spin kicks targeting his sides, hips, and knees. He managed to block most with the exception of a powerful blow from her heel to his lower ribs that knocked his breath out.
Dancing around out of her reach, he struggled for breath. She closed before he fully recovered. He slowed her with a flurry of fist strikes. She blocked all of them and grabbed his sleeve, pulling him close for a knee to the groin. Partially blocked, he again was grateful that he wore a cup when sparring Amazons.
She still gripped his gi. Almost effortlessly, she pulled him toward her. He grabbed her thick red hair and head butted her. She thrust him away with a curse. He stumbled and hopped b
ack. She straightened and rubbed her lip where a crimson steamer lengthened, gliding down her chin. With a tight smile she said, “First blood.”
From a boxer’s stance, she advanced on him, jabbing, and weaving. He stayed in a Karate stance and blocked or dodged her blows. His slowness in pulling back from one block allowed her to grab his loose sleeve and jerk him sideways. She hammered the ribs she had kicked, and then punched him three times in the kidney.
He sagged, and then leapt into a spin, kicking high, straddling the arm that gripped him while he jerked the other knee into the side of her head. Her hold broke and Sig dropped to the ground rolling quickly to his hands and feet. She stepped forward and kicked him in the same spot in the ribs again, flipping him sideways.
He struggled to gain his breath again when someone called, “Time.”
She bent, grabbed his hair, pulled him up, and set him on his feet. “Let me help you” she said, accompanied by a grin more savage than humorous. Blood ran from a cut on her ear.
Bent over with hands on knees and breathing heavily he raised his head and said “Nice round.” She strutted around in front of the circle of people surrounding them.
Giselle caught his eye. She mouthed “Careful.” He nodded.
It seemed like only an instant until someone cried, “Round two.”
She came at him, punching, and kicking like a buzz saw. He could only manage to block and dodge. Then he saw an opening and lashed out with a left jab, rattling her and drawing more blood from her nose. He followed up with a powerful right to her gut. It was like hitting a side of beef. She backhanded him and knocked him on his butt. Blood ran from his nose.
She dove on top of him. He rolled to avoid her, but she grabbed his gi and pulled him back. Her legs wrapped around his stomach from behind and she grabbed his neck in a chokehold, forearm against his Adams apple. She pulled her arm tight with the other hand, shutting off his breath.
He patted her forearm for release. Her arm stiffened. Through buzzing in his ears he heard, “Commander, no!” It couldn’t be him hollering. That required air.
