by Lance, C. M.
He shut the door and used a shovel to prop it closed. "Good idea to keep that place locked."
He climbed onto the ladder to the hayloft, but its rungs broke as he stepped on them. "What crappy construction. They obviously don't build these to hold over seven-hundred pounds." He pulled the ladder down, broke it in half over his knee, and threw it on the floor. "If anyone's up there, they can stay up there. Let's check out the rest of the place."
Outside, around the side of the barn, a small corral held three frightened looking baby goats. Sig's lips tightened. "Grampa said necromancers sacrifice goats to raise the dead. I should kill them to keep him from using them." He felt the sense of anxiety that comes with knowing you should do something, but questioning whether it was right.
"No. I'll set them free. Maybe they'll run away." She opened the gate to the corral.
"OK. I didn't think I could kill them." He shooed them out of the corral.
Next stop—the tool shed. He treated its lock the same way as the one in the barn. Neat and clean, the tool shed held a standard complement of farm implements. Several shovels sported fresh dirt and shiny scuff marks. He and his Mom exchanged glances. "Shovels for finding Zombies", she said before they shut the door.
The farmhouse looked unlived in. Dust covered sparse furniture, empty cupboards, and a musty refrigerator. Closets held only a few items. A single set of recent foots prints coming and going through the house showed in the dust on the floor.
They headed to the bunkhouse. Sig opened the door to an overwhelming smell of putrefaction. His Mom grimaced, "What is that smell? It's like something crawled in and died, or the zombies stayed here."
"Why don't you watch for trouble out here while I explore inside?" The bunkhouse showed signs of recent tenancy but appeared unoccupied now. He held his breath while he confirmed it. Back outside he let his breath out in a whoosh. "Someone or something was here, but they're gone now."
"No movement out here either."
"Let's get back to Grampa. Maybe the ones that attacked us were the last of them." Sig changed back and picked up the shotgun he'd leaned against the wall of the bunkhouse. "I wonder if that green monster I saw is like the demon stealing Grampa's magic."
"Green monster?"
"Yeah. A demon that was invisible until Grampa cast a spell so I could see it. The thought of something like that inside Grampa, eating his magic, almost makes me sick. After he cast the spell he collapsed."
"Oh my. He was afraid of this."
†††
A heavy rain fell from dark thunderclouds as Sig and his Mom returned home. Sig hoped the downpour would put out the fire burning in the 100-acre wood.
Inside, they checked on Grampa. Still unconscious, he appeared to be fading into the pillows. Meredith touched his face. "He's not feverish. In fact, his skin is chill. I'll call Dr. Herman."
"I thought you said no doctors?"
"I believe this one is a doctor of physics. It's a Chicago area code. Grampa said he's at Northwestern."
"OK. While you're doing that, there are more zombie parts in the wood. I'd better get rid of them before the fire attracts attention. I don't know how to explain a bunch of dismembered, roasted, decomposing corpses. I would like to see Captain Dahman's expression though, if they still twitched when he got there."
"Sometimes your humor is morbid . . . but that would be funny. Is the demon still out there?" She asked, looking worried. "Be careful."
"The demon is gone. I was chopping it into hamburger when it disappeared into thin air. Before he lost consciousness, Grampa said a dark sorcerer, out of sight, controlled the zombies and demon. Now that he lost his team, I bet he's not as brave. He saw a Battle Wizard. He might not know I don't have magic."
"Don't assume he quit. He may be regrouping."
Sig nodded and left to dispose of the zombies while his Mom called Dr. Herman.
Dr. Herman arrived early in the evening of the following day. He'd driven from Chicago in a grey panel van, accompanied by a young man he introduced as Rick Jennings, a student assistant. Rick appeared short next to Dr. Herman. Up close Sig realized that Rick was only about an inch shorter than he was, although quite a bit stouter. Even under the baggy athletic sweats and down vest he wore, most of it looked like muscle.
Dr. Herman was slim and at least six inches taller than Sig. He had black wavy hair shot with grey, a full beard and pointed mustache. Sig decided he looked like the man on the Zig-Zag cigarette rolling paper that some of his friends kept in their backpacks. When he introduced himself as Dr. Arthur Herman, Sig detected a distinct twinkle in his black eyes, behind round wireless glasses perched on his aquiline nose.
Rick by contrast, looked like a college linebacker. Straight medium brown hair, cut an inch long, bristled thickly. Most striking were his intense amber eyes.
After introductions, Meredith invited them inside for refreshments after their long hours driving. Dr. Herman replied, "Thank you; I would greatly appreciate that, but perhaps later. I am quite eager to see the patient. If you would be so kind as to lead me?"
"Sig, will you take Dr. Herman to Grampa Thor's room? I'll prepare refreshments for later, or would you gentlemen prefer dinner?"
Sig led the way, but Dr. Herman bowed to Meredith and said, "While I am here at your house, I will insist on being called Arthur.
"If it's not too much trouble, something a little heartier would be exquisite. We motored non-stop." He turned to Sig. "When you get to college, I'll insist on Dr. Herman, but for now you may call me Arthur." He gestured gracefully toward the hallway. "Let us attend to Thorval."
Now Sig knew what Mom meant after their telephone conversation about his formal way of speaking.
In the bedroom, Arthur folded up his sleeves, rubbed his hands together, and then bent to glide his hands over Grampa's head and torso, not quite touching. He clucked and shook his head at various points during the exploration. Finally, he stood and turned to Rick, who had remained in the doorway while Sig stood at the foot of the bed. "Please bring the carrier in, won't you Rick?"
Arthur proceeded to examine Grampa more closely—folding back his eyelids, checking his pulse, peeling his lips back to look at his teeth, and other prosaic ministrations.
"Mom said you aren't a medical doctor."
"No, I'm a doctor of physics."
"What are you doing, giving him a physics exam?"
Arthur laughed. "No. I am also a wizard. I'm checking various things, with which you will become familiar. There's no charge for the exam. Since Thorval is also a wizard, we'll call it a professional courtesy." He smiled at Sig.
"What are you finding?"
"Much the same as I found when he consulted with me last month—but worse. The demon is still in residence, feeding on his magic. It has almost completely drained Thorval's life force."
"Can you get rid of it?"
Arthur's head drooped and then he looked up into Sig's eyes. "No, I can't. The demon has intertwined with his. . . Thorval's . . . being . . . his soul. I can't extricate the demon without tearing that out too. It's akin to an inoperable brain tumor."
Rick dragged a large rolling suitcase into the room, laid it on the floor, and unzipped.
Sig looked inside. "What's all this stuff, a physics lab?"
Rick looked up and chuckled. Arthur smiled and said, "Yes, in a way. I specialize in the physics of magic. These devices measure magic parameters. I used them on Thorval when he visited me. Now I will measure the change since then."
Turning to Rick he said, "Let's use the Ley calibrator and the flux energy oscilloscope."
Rick pulled two boxes with lights, knobs, and meters out of the suitcase. He plugged wires connected to paddle shaped wands into one of the boxes.
Arthur said to Sig, "The calibrator provides a reading of local Ley strength. Leys are a magic foundation resource."
"Grampa said something about that, but not in those words."
"We measure local Ley strength to norma
lize flux readings," Rick said.
"And the thigh bone is connected to the knee bone and the knee bone is . . . its gibberish to me."
Arthur said. "A magic practitioner's power derives from the ability to manipulate the magic flux surrounding us. The bolt of fire your mother mentioned may serve as an illustration. A wizard doesn't create the fire bolt out of himself. He uses his magic to focus the surrounding flux into a fireball or to seize a thunderbolt from a storm cloud. The stronger the local flux, the more power that can be brought to bear."
Rick chimed in. "We measure the ability to change the local flux and then adjust for the magnitude of that flux."
Sig frowned. "So if you can't affect the flux, you don't have magic?"
Arthur shook his head. "No, we're only able to measure magic as a secondary effect, an empirical measurement of the change to surrounding flux. It's a new science still in the evolutionary stage."
"Someone may have magic, but can't yet affect the flux—a child still developing, for example. That's a good thing. It's best if reason and responsibility develops before magic exhibits." Rick frowned and shook his head. "That doesn't always happen, and it's generally fatal when it doesn't—one way or another."
"What do you mean?"
"Either the person manages to kill himself—or has to be killed before they kill others."
Sig grimaced. "Precociousness is its own punishment."
"We're ready to take readings on Thorval. You can stay and watch if you'd like. I warn you, it can be massively boring, potentially leading to unconsciousness in the viewer," Arthur said.
Sig flashed a smile. "I'll stay. It might convince me to study something else when I go to college."
After Arthur and Rick finished, Sig lead them to join Meredith in the kitchen, where she had prepared a meal of ham steaks, mashed potatoes, ham gravy, biscuits, and a corn, basil and onion salad. She had brownies baking and the electric ice cream churn running. All scientific thoughts fled as they descended like swarm of locusts upon the meal.
Sig and Rick were doing an Alphonse and Gaston routine over the last biscuit, when Arthur demonstrated the effectiveness of a long reach by swooping it up, thus finishing the last remaining scrap of meal.
Over dessert, Arthur summarized their findings. "The demon still possesses Thorval. Unlike some possessions, it isn't controlling his actions, but it devours his magic." Rick looked like he wanted to say something and Arthur looked at him and shrugged. "Technically, it isn't eating his magic. It uses Thorval's magic to channel and devour the flux. It has reached the point that almost none of the flux goes to maintain Thorval."
He looked at Meredith and Sig intently. "Thorval is quite old."
Sig nodded and turned to his Mom. "He's over one-hundred and ninety."
She took it calmly. "I suspected as much from what I've overheard."
Arthur continued. "He uses the Ley flux to maintain his life. It's an inconsequential and autonomic knack. It comes with the job. The demon has taken that away from him. He's aged greatly."
Meredith asked. "Is he dying?"
"It depends upon the demon. A mindless demon will allow Thorval to deteriorate until he dies. A clever demon will channel enough flux to maintain Thorval's life. It's in the demon's self-interest. Once the host dies, the demon goes back to the Hell from whence it emerged. Until that happens, Meredith, your grandfather will remain in a coma."
Sig asked. "Can't you stop it?"
"It can only be stopped if the one who invoked the demon releases it, or if that person dies. Their death releases the demon."
The next morning Arthur and Rick conducted more tests. Afterwards, over breakfast, Arthur raised the question of what to do with Grampa Thor. "He doesn't appear to be deteriorating further, but he's not improving. I don't think we can just leave him here and standard medical facilities can't cope with his condition. Medical schools don't cover demon induced coma."
"Why can't he stay here?" Meredith asked.
Arthur gave her a strained look. "I'm concerned that if he stays here, you'll be in danger."
"Why would we be in danger?"
He grimaced. "There have been two attacks since he's been here. And . . . I believe that your husband's death was connected."
"Martin? That happened two years ago."
"When the current owner, who employs zombies, bought the farm across the road."
"That's coincidental."
Arthur smiled wryly. "Live as long as I have and you'll rule out coincidence."
Sig had been thinking. "Mom, wasn't dad hit by lightning from a storm miles away?"
"That's what the investigators decided."
"The damage the fire bolts did in the wood could be mistaken for lightning. Didn't it happen near the old cemetery?"
"Yes... Oh my god! The Zombies." She looked to Arthur.
He nodded. "Thorval told me the circumstances surrounding Martin's death. This incident reminded me. I've come to the same conclusion that Sig has.
"I'd like to take Thorval to Chicago. Our department is a bit of a stepchild, which, in this case, is a good thing. We're not at the main campus. We're located near the medical research facilities, by the Navy pier. The fact that we have joint research projects with the med research folks gives us access to medical facilities. We can care for Thorval there."
"Will you use him for research?"
"Not for research experiments, if that's what you mean. We will, however, study him and keep notes."
Meredith looked to Sig. "What do you think?"
"They're probably better equipped to take care of him, both medically and magically."
She turned back to Arthur. "All right, if we can visit at any time."
"Of course you can. I'd like for Sig to come with us also."
Sig shook his head. "No. I'm staying here with Mom. They may come back."
"They're more likely to come back if you're here. I think you and Thorval are who they are after," Arthur said.
"You think they killed Dad."
"Let me clarify. Zombies didn't kill your father. They don't control lightning. The Dark Mage that controlled the zombies also wields lightning as a weapon. Your father must have stumbled upon him doing something nefarious and was murdered. As you noted, it happened near the old cemetery. Cemeteries are the prime source for acquiring zombies."
"You're saying Dad's death wasn't part of his plan."
"Yes. The Watchers have been across the road for a very long time. They didn't attack until Thorval, the Battle Wizard, arrived. They know you are now a Battle Wizard. Yes, I believe your mother will be safer without you here. Besides, Thorval believes your mother may have magic talent also."
Arthur turned to her. "I have someone in mind who I'd like to come and visit with you. Thorval expressed concern to me about your late developing, untrained talent. The lady I have in mind would work with you to determine the extent of your talents and ensure you understand how to control them. She is a rather formidable woman and would provide an additional level of protection should those across the road return."
Meredith looked pensive. "Grampa Thor mentioned his concerns and asked me to consider training. Let me think about it."
"Certainly. We can discuss it further and I can answer any questions you may have."
She nodded.
Arthur stood and turned to Sig. "Thorval told me you change forms, and also sense magical creatures such as the zombies, but you don't evidence any other magical talent. He's concerned that if you don't come into the rest of your powers, you will be at a disadvantage against entities desiring your demise."
Emptiness opened in the pit of Sig's stomach. "I didn't think getting the rest of my powers was important. All I can do is change forms. I've tried and tried, with Grampa and by myself, to perform other magic. Nothing happens.
"I'd like to observe you change."
Sig felt uncomfortable demonstrating in front of people he barely knew. It seemed like showing off.
Arthur winked at Rick as he said to Sig, "You show us a change and we'll demonstrate our capabilities."
"When do you want to do it?"
"There's no time like the present."
"Ok. In the family room, there's more room."
Meredith led Arthur and Rick into the family room where they all took seats. Sig stood in the middle of the room and raised his hands in a shrug. "Just change?"
"Whenever you're ready."
He grasped his amulet and muttered "Aðalbrandr" and the familiar feeling washed over him. He heard a rumbling growl as the world around him shrank.
He turned toward the sound. Rick crouched in front of the couch. His amber eyes glowed as he growled through bared teeth.
Arthur raised his hand toward Rick while staring intently at Sig. "Relax. It's all right." Rick reseated himself tensely on the edge of the couch.
Arthur stood and walked around Sig while shaking his head. "Thorval talked of your size, but he didn't convey the full impact."
From his new viewpoint, Sig could see where Arthur's hair had thinned on top. It wasn't evident at his normal height.
Arthur stopped in front of him. "You're at least a foot taller than Thorval and much more heavily muscled—maybe half again as wide." He turned to Rick. "Do you think the Bears could use him on the defensive line?"
Rick snorted a laugh and appeared to relax marginally.
"Fat chance, I've already checked. I thought if I didn't ever get the other magic, I could at least use this body to play sports. But, the NBA, NFL, and all other sports leagues have outlawed magic. The only thing open to me is a freak show act."
Arthur shook his head at Sig. "There has to be more than that. I sense enormous magical power. It's as if your skin shimmers with it, but. . ." He reached out and traced Sig's form, hands inches from Sig's skin. Then he dropped back into his seat continuing to stare at him. "It seems pent up."
Arthur blinked and then looked at Rick who had calmed down. "Well, he's shown us his, now it's our time to show him ours."
Meredith stood. "Is this when I should be leaving?"
