by C. M. Lance
He pulled on her arm and grabbed for her hair over his shoulder. Like a steel spring, her arm squeezed tighter and tighter.
Stars filled his blurred vision and he mouthed “Aðalbrandr.” His neck expanded and his shoulders rose away from her. He wrenched the arms around his neck apart. Air flooded his lungs and he peeled her legs away from his stomach.
He rolled to his feet and turned. She sat on the floor staring up at him. Her mouth hung open. Pressing his hands together, he bowed to her. “Excellent match, you win,” he rumbled and smiled at her. Straightening, he said, “I don’t think you want a rematch in this form, but if you do, I will be pleased to accommodate you.”
He turned in a circle, gazing over the tribe. Amazement was the dominant expression. A few appeared anticipatory. He shrugged and strode toward the door. The Amazons parted in front of him.
At the door, he paused, looked back, and then ducked through. Outside, he muttered “Koma Aftur” as he jogged around the corner of the next building. He passed the corner before he heard the door bang open.
†††
Rowena stood alone, wiping off sweat and blood with a towel. The low hum of chatter filled the training facility. Two women returned from outside. One said, to no one in particular, “He’s gone, we didn’t see him.”
Rowena folded the towel and placed it on a bench. She looked around and motioned peremptorily for Giselle to approach her. Rowena turned away from the crowd when Giselle walked up. “Did you know about that?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“As part of my job, Professor Herman swore me to secrecy.”
“You don’t have secrets from your Commander.”
“If you had asked me, I would have told you. I didn’t see the need to tell you without being asked.”
“You didn’t see the need? He embarrassed me in front of the tribe.”
“I didn’t know you would try to kill him and force him to change. I thought you’d just beat the hell out of him, embarrass him, and that would be the end of it.”
Rowena snarled, “Did it look like I was beating the hell out of him?”
“From where I was standing, yes it did.”
Rowena picked up the towel and threw it at her. Giselle saw the blood on it. Rowena’s nostrils flared, as she demanded, “Does that look like I was beating the hell out of him?”
“Nobody said you were invincible. He’s proven he’s good. He’s helped all the girls get better. But, you had him on the ropes.”
“Was it you that hollered for me to stop?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t want me to kill him?”
“That’s not why I hollered. If you tried to kill him, I knew you would force him to change. If he did, you wouldn’t have a chance against him in that shape. Didn’t you see him? He’s nine feet tall and seven-hundred pounds. He’s faster in that shape than in normal form, supernaturally so. He could throw any one of us across this room with one hand and, as you learned, he has excellent fighting skills.”
“You disappoint me.”
“I’m sorry for that, Commander.”
“I will consider disciplinary alternatives.”
Chapter 38
Sig walked into Grampa Thor’s hospital room hoping, like always, that he would find him sitting up in bed. Today was no different, the same hope, and the same disappointment.
Grampa was a shadow of the robust, dynamic figure Sig remembered. His white hair and gray skin blended into the bed linen. Formerly steel gray, his goatee now matched the wispy, white, shoulder length hair spread across the pillow.
Sig visited him twice a week. He sat for an hour, holding Grampa’s hand and talking to him. Hoping he would talk back.
The first time Sig came, he expected an array of tubes jabbed into the patient. Instead, a tube in his nose, a tube taped to his forearm, and a finger clip trailing a wire maintained him.
Sig sat on the side of the bed and talked about current events in his life, while he held Grampa’s hand to dispense encouragement verbally and tactually.
“I still don’t have control over magic. There were a few minor, delayed reactions again, but as before, they occur randomly. No predicting when or how they will evidence. It’s obvious that I’ve been hanging with Dr. Arthur. I’m picking up some of his speech mannerisms. ‘Evidence’ isn’t a word I would have used previously in that context.
“It looks like I won’t be sparring with the Amazons anymore. I guess I made a bad impression on their ‘Commander’. Her name is Rowena. We sparred and she tried to choke me out. I changed to Battle form to prevent it. She was as surprised when I changed, as I was when she tried to kill me.”
Sig felt a tremor in Grampa’s hand. He stopped talking. Nothing else happened.
He continued relating his stream of consciousness, “I thought I got on well with the Amazons. They all try to kick my butt and I try to prevent it. Sometimes they succeed, sometimes I do. I learn from them and they learn from me. I’m not sure what problem the Commander’s has.”
He felt a tremor again.
“I work with one of the Amazons. Her name is Giselle. She carts me around, since I still don’t have a car and we frequent the same places, school, work, and the training facility. The Commander is her mother.”
Grampa squeezed his hand. Sig looked closely at his face for any other reaction. Nothing…
An image formed in his mind, a beautiful woman, slim but strong looking, with wavy raven hair to her waist, looked into his eyes. Her face was sad; she shook her head, turned, and walked away. She dwindled into the distance. A small boy stood in front of him and watched her go. He couldn’t see the boy’s face, but felt poignant sadness.
His eyes moved to Grampa Thor’s hand, but his sight was overwhelmed with the vision. It flooded his mind. He realized that the woman was his Great-grandmother. She left after she gave birth to a boy - a boy without magic. She was an Amazon. The little boy was Grandfather Edward. The Amazon’s name was Giselle. Grampa Thor loved her still.
Grampa’s hand relaxed and the vision dissipated. Sig laid the hand back on the bed and then leaned back in the chair. He couldn’t explain how but he knew it was true. He was part Amazon. That meant his mother was part Amazon, too.
That explained his mother’s height and strength. At five-feet-ten-inches, she was almost as tall as Sig. Others often remarked at his mother’s strength in handling the large horses she trained.
Were the Chicago Amazon tribe members his relatives?
Chapter 39
Sig hurried to his counseling session with Professor Herman. The Professor, as Dean of the Physics of Magic department, had final say on Sig’s entry qualifications. He hoped the session would be a formality, but the Professor was always a stickler for procedure.
Approaching Dr. Herman’s office, Sig passed a slim, dapper gentleman dressed in what to Sig’s inexperienced eyes looked like an expensive suit. The man had a thick thatch of coal black hair with a distinctive silver streak running through one side. Sig nodded to him as he passed, then stopped, turned, and stared at the man who continued toward the stairway.
As the man passed, repulsion washed over Sig like a wave. Not a smell, but it reminded him of the burnt barn across the road from his home. He wanted to spit to clear the taste from his mouth, but didn’t think it would do any good.
Sig didn’t want to turn his back on him. Only after the man disappeared down the stairwell did Sig pivot and hurry to the Professor’s office.
He knocked on the door, and entered when he heard a terse “It’s open.”
A thunderous look on the Professor’s face awaited him inside.
Taken aback, Sid said, “Professor Herman, if this isn’t a good time, I’ll be glad to reschedule.”
“No, no, come in have a seat. I just had a meeting with that, that… Heathcoat. It would seem that he wants to cancel all our progress and eliminate magic from the curriculum.”
&nb
sp; “Is that what he said?”
“Not in so many words, but the effect is the same. Cut, cut, cut, that’s all he wants to do to our budget.”
“Can I do anything? I’ve got some inheritance money if that will help.”
“No, no, it’s not that bad, yet. However, I appreciate the generous offer. You looked nonplussed when you entered. Is everything all right with you?”
“I passed someone in the hall on the way here. I sensed evil.”
“Here in this building? Tell me about it. Even if you don’t perform magic, I’ve come to depend upon your sensitivity to dark workings.”
“Evil smells like nothing else. Smells and emotions combined. The smell of burning metal overlaid with hatred, garbage mixed with unkind thoughts, rotten eggs scrambled with terror.
“I passed an elegant looking man in the hallway and felt that disgusting odor, if that makes any sense.”
“Hmmm. Describe the man.”
“About my height, but slim, an expensive looking medium gray suit, black patterned tie, and a black pocket kerchief. He had a thick head of black hair with a distinctive silver streak running through it.”
Professor Herman gave Sig an incredulous look. “That’s Dean Heathcoat, the head of the Physics department. He’s the most non-magical person I know. He finds no value in our work and again attempts to cut our budget.”
“That’s Dean Heathcoat? The bastard?”
“I never said that.”
“Rick is less delicate than you are.”
“Ah, yes, Rick. His expressiveness serves a purpose, on occasion.”
“If Dean Heathcoat feels that way, how did the study of magic get started here in the Physics department at Northwestern?”
“We have a financial angel, Bernadette Henson. She possesses a large measure of magical skill and we’ve worked together in the past. Bernadette inherited her timber baron grandfather’s fortune and endowed the University for Magical Studies. When the world changed, and magic came out of the closet, several of us met and formulated the idea of applying academic rigor to magic. Bernadette was one of us.”
“What made you elect to combine its study with physics?”
“In answer that with a question; where else would it go?”
“I think it would fit into neuroscience, biology, or psychology.”
“All excellent suggestions which were considered, as were engineering, mathematics, and even computer science. We chose Physics because, at its core, it analyzes nature, to understand how the universe behaves. It measures phenomena, formulates theories, and attempts to disprove those same theories.’
“But magic involves people making things happen; even medicine seems like a good choice.”
“As I said, we wanted to apply rigor to our study. Medicine is an art. You always hear of physicians ‘practicing’ medicine. Physics studies matter, energy, force, and motion through spacetime, all of which are components of magic. We desire to understand how magic works. Meanwhile, those in medical fields attempt to identify the human characteristics that cause magic to happen. That’s why we work in conjunction with the medical school.”
“So the fields work together; physics, medicine, neuroscience, and engineering?”
“Yes we all traditionally worked together to formulate the grand theory of the universe. Only now, magic is included as part of that study.”
“Why does Dean Heathcoat want to stop that?”
“I suspect that he wants to use Bernadette’s endowment to shore up the overall physics department budget. Fortunately, she defined her bequest quite narrowly. Dean Heathcoat can’t strip our funding, but it doesn’t prevent him from trying. So, the battle rages.”
“And you say he has no magic?”
“Until this moment I would have vehemently denied it. However, you sensed something about him. Perhaps your sensitivity compensates for incomplete development in other areas, but as I said, I’ve come to rely upon it. Could you have felt something coincidentally emanating from nearby, which you attributed to the Dean?”
Sig contemplated the Professor’s words against his recollection for almost a minute. Finally, he shook his head. “Like the zombies, I could tell where they were without seeing them. At the barn, I could feel the spiders before they crawled out and was ready for them. I sensed evil with Dmitri, but knew it wasn’t him, it was with him. That’s why I shook him down.”
Professor Herman’s face almost twitched into a smile.
Sig continued, “When I felt it from the Dean, I stopped and watched him walk. It moved with him. It could have been something on his person, as with Dmitri. Whatever, it was the most evil I have felt.”
Chapter 40
The Professor’s eyes widened. “Goodness. Worse than Andras?”
Sig nodded. “I felt evil gestating in a womb of hatred, ready to spring out and... I know it sounds weird, it sounds weird when I say it out loud, but that’s how it felt.”
“Interesting. Have you ever felt anything like it before?”
“No… Kind of... It’s similar to what I felt from the summoning circle in the burnt barn. Not when Mom and I want over there, but the way it felt when the Basilisk and spiders crawled out.”
Professor Herman tapped his index finger against his lips. “You are giving me endless things to consider. I will add this to my list.”
“Is there a possibility that the Dean is the dark wizard that opened the summoning ring or commanded Andras?”
The Professor considered that for a few seconds, and then said, “He couldn’t have summoned Andras. I was in a budget meeting with him, at the time Rick saw Andras patrolling the property line. If he summoned Andras he would have been in the summoning circle at that time.”
“Well enough about that, I’m here for my college entry counseling session.”
Professor Herman waved a hand. “Oh, that’s a mere formality. I’ve already signed your paperwork. I wanted to use this time to apprise you regarding my findings on your magical limitations.”
“Have you found a solution?” Sig felt his heart speed up.
“No, I’ve merely identified several most likely scenarios.” He patted a stack of books and documents. Buttressing the bottom of the stack was a large bound tome. The leather was wrinkled and cracked with age; the uneven edges of the pages rippled.
Sig’s enthusiasm dissipated. “Several scenarios?”
The Professor seemed oblivious to Sig’s disappointment. “The first, you have not yet come into your powers. As they say, ‘Time heals all’.”
“If I’m just too young, would I still be able to change forms?”
The Professor smiled at him. “Well done. That is the most telling argument against that scenario.”
“What’s scenario number two?”
“A possible genetic anomaly introduced by an ancestor.”
Sig scrunched his eyes and nose. “Could you be a little more specific?”
“You may have more than one type of magic warring within you. The talents may interfere, preventing either one from fully expressing.”
“Do you mean because my great grandmother was an Amazon?”
Dr. Herman gave him a puzzled look. “I didn’t realize you were aware of that.”
“I found out this week… from Grampa Thor.”
“From Thorval? How…?”
Sig explained the vision he had while visiting his great-grandfather in the hospital.
When Sig finished, the Professor smiled broadly and shook his head. “I’ve seen no signs that Thorval is aware of his surroundings. Excellent news. He’s not gone from us.”
“So you think the vision is real?”
“Yes, mind-to-mind communication is a chronicled aspect of Battle Wizard magic. Rare, but it has occurred between Battle Wizards under stress.
“Additionally, the facts are accurate. The description and her name, Giselle, confirm it. He hasn’t spoken her name since she left after your grandfather Edward displayed no evidence of
magic.”
The Professor stopped to consider before continuing. “A mix of Amazon blood could be a possibility, although not at the top of my list. Unions between Battle Wizards and Amazons are not unheard of. Even less so are any magical problems introduced into either line. I’m researching your grandmother Eloise, Edward’s wife, as well as your father.”
“My father? But he didn’t have any magic, did he?”
“I have obtained information that makes me believe that it’s possible. There are two distant cousins who… Well, let me explore more before I conjecture. Anything expressed today would be a guess. I must gather more information.”
“Couldn’t you share your guess?” Sig asked eagerly.
Dr. Herman smiled faintly. “No, not at this time.”
Sig was stunned that his father might have had magic. Both Dad and Mom with magic and he never had any idea. They never had any idea.
“Any other scenarios under consideration?”
“Yes, one other. This avenue of investigation arises from Thorval’s condition. There may be a demon preventing the exercise of magical power.”
Sig clutched his chest. “A demon inside me, like Grampa?” He felt numb. “How… When?” He’d been sitting on the edge of the desk. He stepped over and collapsed into a chair across the desk from the Professor. The idea of ending up like Grampa Thor sent chills through him. Lying in bed, possibly for hundreds of years, sustained through a tube in his arm. Unaware of his surroundings.
Consternation radiated from Professor Herman’s face. He rose from behind his desk when Sig fell into the chair . Sig sagged in the chair, head in his hands. The Professor placed a hand gently on Sig’s shoulder. “It’s just a scenario I’ve been exploring. Relax and breathe. No one says that has happened.”
Sig looked up at the Professor and took a deep breath. “I’m OK. I just pictured spending life like Grampa. It was a shock. 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.”
