by C. M. Lance
Wizard′s Sword
Book Two of the Battle Wizard Saga
Copyright © 2013 C. M. Lance
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
http://CM-Lance.com
Cover Design by Mike Lance
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The following names are used in the saga you are about to read. Note that the Old Norse language has merged into Norwegian, Swedish, German, Finish, and Icelandic.
Aðalbrandr – Ah′–dthul–bronder
Old Norse – Aðal (noble) + Brandr (sword)
Andras – Ahn′– drass
Great Marquis of Hell, having under his command thirty legions of demons
Giselle – zhee-zel´ (French, not the German Gee´-zel-uh)
An Amazon warrior and daughter of the Amazon Commander
Sigurd – Sig′–erd (as in Signal)
Modern form of Old Norse name Sigurðr
Sig (victorious) + Vard (guard)
Thorval – Thor′–vul
Modern form of Old Norse þórvaldr
Thor (thunder) + valdr (ruler)
Sig glanced down at his great-grandfather strapped on a rolling cot. He had lapsed into a coma almost a week ago. Until recently, he′d been the world′s most powerful Battle Wizard, leading the fight against Black magic. Then anyone would have guessed him to be a hale and hearty sixty-year-old.
Now, every one of his 193 years weighed heavily, reflected in his parchment thin skin and almost translucent white hair. The prognosis for recovery wasn′t good. The only known cure for the demon leaching the life force out required finding and killing the Dark Mage who′d summoned it. Unfortunately, the Mage hadn′t left a forwarding address before he escaped through another dimension.
Turning forward, Sig caught a sympathetic glance from the werewolf′s amber eyes in the rearview mirror. Only a few months ago, Sig believed that the world of magic had passed him by. Now Rick, a werewolf he′d just met, was chauffeuring him and Grampa Thor to Northwestern University in Chicago, where Sig would begin studying the Physics of Magic and the University Medical School would try to keep Grampa alive while they sought another cure.
Despite knowing it was futile, Sig patted Grampa′s shoulder before he climbed through to the front of the cargo van and twisted down into the passenger seat.
"How is he?" Rick asked.
"No change. Respiration and heart rate are still slow, but thankfully steady." He tilted his head to see behind through the side mirror. "Arthur, I mean Professor Herman, is still following us in my pickup truck. Darn, I need to practice calling him Professor."
"Not a bad idea. He′s old school and likes formality around the university. He′s a nice person despite being the Dean of the Physics of Magic School and one of the more powerful wizards in the world, but he is a bit of a starched shirt. If you slip up, you′ll learn to recognize 'the look′."
"As his student assistant, do you get 'the look′ often?" Sig asked.
"Not as much as in the beginning. But, yeah, sometimes I do and it still makes me feel like an idiot. He′s made it an art form. With one glance, he can make you feel like you′re standing naked in all your stupidity. So, remember to call him Professor."
"Yeah, he wanted me to call him Arthur while we fought together to kill the Basilisk and spiders the size of Dobermans. I have to get used to 'the Professor′ thing. I hope I don′t forget."
Rick arched an eyebrow when he looked over to Sig. "Who killed the Basilisk?"
Sig sighed. "Technically you did, but who held on to it while you rooted around trying to remember your lessons on medieval monster lore?"
"During the time we fought it, the Professor was out cold. Maybe you should call me Professor." Rick said as poked his muscular chest with a thumb.
"Professor is not the name I′m thinking of calling you." Sig said, casting him a droll expression. He looked back at the Professor following them. "He sure is nice, volunteering to drive my pickup truck to Chicago so you and I can talk about school things."
"Since you′re arriving mid-semester, everything is already happening. Classes are going full tilt. Social life is hopping. You′re behind, and need to catch up. On top of that, the Professor wants you to stay with him and I′m pretty sure he doesn′t want to have to catch you up on student life."
"That′s nice of him to offer, but I kinda thought student housing would be more fun."
"It might be more fun for you, but it could be bad news for the other students."
Sig gave him a quizzical look. "Why would it be bad for other students?"
"Duh… A Dark Mage has been trying to kill you. Practitioners of the black arts aren′t concerned about collateral damage. If he tracks you to the university, it won′t matter to him, or her, if your entire floor is wiped out just to kill you."
"Oh… I didn′t think of that. I don′t want to put anyone else in danger, even Professor Herman."
"The Professor has been fighting against the Black for more than ten times longer than either of us has been alive. His home is probably the safest place you can find. He′s wrapped it in wards and enchantments that will stop or weaken any magical attack."
Sig thought of Madeline, the witch who had betrayed him and left him for dead, buried in a cave. "Are there many women Dark Mages?"
Rick pondered the question for a few moments. "Now you′re getting into terminology that will be part of your studies at the university. Warlock, Wizard, Sorcerer, and Magician are names given to male practitioners. Females are called Witch or Sorceress, although a few may be classified as Magician. Even rarer are female Mages. Scholars will argue for hours about titles, classifications, and where magic comes from. It may be the result of the ability to draw on the forces of earth, fire, water, and air. Alternatively, it can combine with chemical formulation, herbs and roots, or combinations of all that. Then there are arguments about measures of magical strength. Others measure proportions of…."
Sig held up a hand. "Whoa, I can′t absorb a semester in a nine hour car ride" he protested with a laugh. Trying to follow Rick′s explanation, felt like the words were crashing into his brain in a jumble, with no order.
Rick shook his head with disgust. "If you want to be serious about it, only vain practitioners and useless scholars care about titles. The Professor will answer to Warlock, Wizard, or just about anything even though, rightfully, he should be called Archmage because of his power. The main classification you should be concerned with is between those who manipulate White magic and those who draw on Black magic."
"I suppose there are gradations there as well." Sig said with a smile.
Rick fastened him with a serious look. "There are no gradations. There is no dabbling with Black magic, no playing around. Once you touch the Dark, there is no going back. That′s the penalty for touching it. It won′t let you go."
"You make it sound alive."
"It′s worse. It′s everlasting evil. I′m glad I′m a Were. There′s never a temptation to access it. "
Rick turned back to the road while Sig absorbed what he′d heard.
Suddenly Rick raised his right hand off the steering wheel and waggled his finger. "Now back to your question about female Black magic practitioners. Men are mo
re likely to draw on the Dark. It′s a power thing, although it′s said that women who seize Black magic are the worst. Studies indicate, however, that the proportion of male to female Black magicians hasn′t changed since climate change affected the world′s magic."
Sig took the opportunity to show that he knew something about magic. "The change came about when the polar caps, the Greenland ice sheet, and most of the glaciers melted, running into the seas. The weight burden on the Earth′s crust shifted, causing the axis of rotation to wobble and adjust. Because of that, Ley lines altered and grew stronger, making access to magic easier."
Rick spared him a benevolent smile. "Ah-so Grasshopp-ah. You have been studying more than math and physics."
Not sure whether he had received a compliment or a dig, Sig faced forward. After a moment, he looked at Rick out of the corner of his eye. "You′re sure it′s not too much trouble for the Professor to put me up at his place?"
Rick chuckled. "I don′t think it′s completely altruistic. He has plenty of room. His estate, although not ostentatious, is a bit more than one would expect on a Dean′s salary. Besides, I′m sure that he recognizes the benefit of your ability to turn into a nine foot tall, seven hundred pound Battle Wizard. So what if you don′t have any more magic than that? At least you′ll be able to change light bulbs in tall ceilings."
Sig frowned and fiddled with the talisman, Aðalbrandr, hanging from the chain around his neck. Grampa Thor had given it to him before falling into his coma. The sword-shaped talisman was the source of his power and his frustration.
After they checked Grampa Thor in at the university research hospital, the Professor pulled up to the gates in front of his home, ahead of the van.
Sig was impressed. The home sat on a slight hill, well back from the ornate wrought iron gates. An imposing eight-foot tall stone and iron fence circled the estate and massive masonry pillars supported the gates. The drive ran through them and circled in front of the house.
Professor Herman walked up to the gates, turned to wave at Rick and then began pushing on the gates as they slowly opened.
"Doesn′t he have an opener for the gates?" Sig asked.
Rick smirked. "When he waved, I pushed the opener. He′s not opening the gates himself. He′s checking the wards that he put in place to secure the property. He′s just pretending to open the gates for any nosy neighbors."
When the gates were open, he stepped out of site behind one pillar for a few moments and then walked across to disappear for a moment behind the other. A small flash of light followed by a puff of smoke rose from each.
Apparently satisfied, he waved to Rick again with a smile before getting into and driving the pickup to park behind the van in front of the house.
"The first order of business is to familiarize Sig with his new home," the Professor said after they alighted from their vehicles. "Rick, you should come along for a refresher. I expect you′ll be spending more time here."
When Rick stood next to Professor Herman at the top of the steps, Sig again noticed their disparity. The Professor was tall, about half-a-foot taller than Sig′s six feet. Slim and dapper, even after a nine-hour drive, he sported a neat, dark black beard trimmed to a point on his chin and the tips of his mustache. Unlike his beard, gray stranded through his thick black hair.
Rick contrasted sharply with the Professor. Although appearing short in comparison, he was only an inch or two shorter than Sig. Rick′s stout frame made him appear even shorter, although almost none was fat. With his straight brown hair trimmed evenly at an inch all over, and dense musculature, apparent even under the baggy hoody and tear away pants, he looked like a college linebacker.
Most striking was the contrast between Rick′s intense amber eyes and the Professor′s hooded black eyes.
The tour of the house included pointing out various wards and enchantments to be aware of and to avoid. Professor Herman indicated the location of Sig′s room, the all-important bathroom locations and the even more important kitchen with its large walk-in cupboard and built in refrigerator. Once he understood the layout, Sig unloaded the pickup and moved in with Rick′s help.
Afterwards, Rick took Sig for his first culinary experience at one of Northwestern′s campus eateries. "It′s not nearly as good as you′re used to at home, but you can get mass quantities at reasonable prices and some of it is actually good. We′re early; there may be pie left. They make one of the all time great cherry pies."
"I love cherry pie."
"Get it when you get the rest of the food. If you come back later for dessert, it′ll be gone."
"You betcha."
"I haven′t decided whether I would rather live on pizza, burgers, or hot wings."
"No salad or vegetables?"
Rick turned and looked seriously at Sig. "Salad and vegetables aren′t food. It′s what food eats."
Sig chuckled. "That′s right. I forgot; you′re a carnivore."
"To the core. I always get the four-meat pizza, only because they don′t make five-meat pizza. The cheese and crust hold the meat together for my convenience."
Sig smiled as he dished up Caesar salad to go with his four-meat pizza.
Rick snorted derisively at the salad as they moved down the line to the desserts. "Look, there′s only one piece of cherry pie. You take it this time since you′re the guest—today. Next time I′ll fight you for it."
Sig bowed from the waist and said with a smile, "Thank you." As he reached for the pie, a rough push from behind shoved him away from the counter. He almost dropped his cafeteria tray.
When he caught his balance, he turned and found himself facing a wall—a wall clad in a denim jacket and holding the last piece of cherry pie. He looked up, and up, to see a large homely face sneering down at him. "You dwarves don′t need this. The football team takes priority."
He was the biggest person Sig had ever seen.
As the giant turned away, Sig set down his tray and started to follow him. Rick grabbed his arm and said in a low voice, "Don′t. He′s part troll and mean as a stepped-on-snake. You could make mincemeat out of him in your supernatural Battle Wizard form, but not in this shape even with your black belts. He′s ten inches taller and outweighs you by almost two hundred pounds."
Sig looked down at Rick′s hand on his arm. He started to pull away and Rick pulled harder. "Not a good way to start your college career."
"Being pushed around isn′t a good start." Then he cocked his head and gave Rick a quizzical look. "I thought you said that the unwritten rule around campus says not to give away that you have magic, what about him?"
Rick shook his head. "I don′t know if he knows he′s a troll."
"If you know how can he not know?"
"I got some of his hair and a friend ran DNA tests. I was conducting a 'research′ project. I didn′t say where I got the hair. Only Professor Herman and I know."
"Why did you run tests?"
"My project involved categorizing the characteristics of non-normals. I got to wondering about him he fit a profile. We go to the same barber. He finished just before I showed up for a haircut. On impulse, I swiped some of his clippings.
"The DNA tests say that what you see there is what you get when you cross a human and a troll. He′s Northwestern′s only first team All America defensive tackle – as a freshman. Six-feet-ten and three hundred and seventy-five pounds. He′s only half troll; he passes for human."
Sig glanced over at the tackle laughing with three other very large people. "Just barely… he just barely passes for human." He looked back at Rick and grinned. They both laughed.
"Oh, let me tell you the good news. He also works in the physics department. You′ll get to be buddies."
Sig groaned, "Great. I knew I shouldn′t have backed down."
"Don′t worry about it. He′s an asshole to everyone. Who knows, you may get a chance to go head-to-head in your other shape. Don′t forget, that′s the only shape he has. It must be boring when you can′t turn in
to an elegant wolf with a lustrous pelt whenever you please."
Sig raised one eyebrow, nodded, and shrugged.
After finishing their meal, they drove Sig′s pickup to the Game Room near the main campus. Three of the tallest women Sig had ever seen together preceded them into the room. They were all gorgeous if you like tall, shapely, and well muscled. Sig decided that he did. Rick watched with an amused smile as Sig′s eyes followed them.
Sig had never dated. He lost interest after Dad died from a lightning strike that Grampa Thor and the Professor attributed to the Dark Mage. Then Madeline came into his life. The prettiest, nicest, smartest girl he′d ever met, but she turned out to be a witch and tried to kill him. Trapped, frozen underground by the first girl you liked puts a damper on any dating interest.
Now he felt interest stirring. Something stirred in the region of his belt, maybe south.
The sensation Sig had went beyond physical attraction. He had a feeling in the back of his skull, similar to the black magic radar that the zombies and demon activated in him before they attacked, but it felt pleasant this time.
"Women′s volleyball team. They′re Amazons," Rick said.
"You′re telling me. They must be six-two or three."
"No, I mean they′re members of an Amazon tribe, women warriors."
Sig′s head whipped toward Rick. "Holy crap, is Northwestern full of circus freaks like us?" Maybe that explained the feeling he got from them.
"Yes and no. There aren′t that many in absolute numbers, but it seems like there′s darn near every kind of legendary monster on this campus that you can find. We frequent the same places. I guess us 'circus freaks′ maintain a low profile together, away from the normals. It makes it a bit easier and, after all, we do have things in common."
"Do they like guys?"
"Oh, yeah. They seem to, but Weres don′t appeal to them. We get along OK, but no action. They seem to like big guys. You′ll see them with basketball or football players."
