by C. M. Lance
Sig gritted his teeth, nodded, and smiled back. "No harm done. Good trick. I′m learning the rules."
Giselle laughed. "Honey, there aren′t any rules."
She and Arianna looked at each other and laughed. Sig noticed several nearby women smiling.
While they shared a laugh at his expense, he noticed that Giselle′s hair was the same red-gold color as the girl′s he fell for who turned out to be a witch that buried him alive. Giselle didn′t have the voluptuous beauty that Madeline possessed, but he noticed that her chiseled, broad-shouldered frame came with an adequate compliment of well-placed curves.
After a quick warm up, he met Arianna on the mats. Sig noted that she appeared to be at least two inches taller than his six feet and he guessed she massed as much. Her legs were longer than his were, but he thought he had longer arms.
They met in the middle of the mat and bowed. Before he straightened, she dropped and lashed out with a leg sweep. Half expecting it, based on previous actions and Giselle′s warning, he sprang into the air and blocked the upward kick to the groin that followed. He landed spinning and slammed a kick to her side that she partially blocked. He just managed to pull his leg back before she grabbed it.
He began the match thinking he would have to ease up, but quickly realized he could get hurt if he didn′t give it his all. She used her better leg reach to good effect and surprised him with her strength.
After almost five minutes of a very even match, he panted from exertion. It felt good pressing hard like this, but he knew there would be aches in the morning.
He needed to end the match if he could. He′d try passing strikes, his best move. She managed to avoid a kick at her thigh, but he raked her knee on the return. She lost balance. He whirled and kicked at her head. She leaned to the side to miss the initial kick and unbent just in time to catch his returning heel in the back of her head.
Stunned, she dropped to one knee. He grabbed and twisted her wrist, pulled her arm straight out, and kicked her twice in the side with his heel. If he′d applied full force, it could have broken her ribs. He spun and drove his knee against her extended elbow, pulling up short so he didn′t break it.
He stepped back, put his hands together, and bowed. She shook her head groggily as she stood and bowed back.
Sig heard applause and turned to see Rick with a group of ten women who stopped what they were doing to watch. They appraised him seriously.
Rick stopped clapping. "Now that you′ve beaten their number one in hand-to-hand they′ll want you to come back and teach them how you did it."
Several of the Amazons nodded.
Sig shrugged and winced. "I′ll be happy to. I need the workout, but first I need to ice these bruises. I feel like I lost. That was the toughest fight I′ve ever been in."
Arianna punched his shoulder. "You charmer; I bet you say that to all the girls. Let′s plan to do it again, but right now, that ice is the right prescription. If you feel like you lost, just imagine how I feel." She rubbed the back of her head.
Rick asked Arianna, "Who owes who?"
Arianna rolled her eyes, went over to a pile of clothes, pulled out five dollars, and handed it to Rick.
Sig wrinkled his forehead and looked between them.
Rick smiled. "You didn′t use the gas station down the street to change. I won."
Arianna shrugged and smiled.
Sig rolled his eyes, grabbed his bag, and pushed Rick toward the door.
He could feel the flush of embarrassment warming his face and neck.
Back in his room, Sig iced his contusions for half-an-hour before reporting for his first daily check up and training.
Professor Herman was already puttering about in the calibration lab when Sig showed up at 6:30 p.m. "Ah, there you are. I′ve asked Giselle to help me today." He gestured toward a doorway as the tall redheaded Amazon strode into the lab. "Giselle, this is Sig. He′s our subject for today."
"We′ve met."
He smiled and winked. "We′ll have to stop meeting this way."
She looked at him levelly. "You seem to be everywhere."
"Giselle is an expert at measurement."
Sig frowned at her. "This isn′t going to get embarrassing is it?"
She arched an eyebrow and looked him over slowly. It looked enchanting on her high-cheek-boned Nordic features. Then she said, "Do you have some measurement you′re embarrassed about?"
Sig blushed.
The Professor glanced between them. "Do I detect a modicum of friction?"
Giselle smiled. "No, it′s all good fun; although he just beat our tribe′s best hand-to-hand warrior and it wouldn′t hurt to take him down a notch."
He looked at Sig. "In that form? Impressive."
Sig ducked his head as he nodded.
She looked puzzled and asked the Professor, "What do you mean in that form?"
"You′ll see shortly."
She shrugged and said, "I′m ready with the equipment."
Sig nodded.
Professor Herman gestured at a table on which rested a candelabrum, a bowl of water, and several other artifacts. "You′ve tried all of this magic at home with your great-grandfather and with me, but I want you to do it again for baseline measurements."
Sig expressed his continuing frustration at his continuing lack of magic by exhaling forcefully through pursed lips before he said. "OK, I′ll try again."
He tried everything, again, with the same results— nothing. He still couldn′t light a candle with magic, the spell for remote viewing in the water left nothing but clear water. He couldn′t make the prism radiate light. The vellum of alchemy formulas didn′t levitate. Nothing he tried worked.
Becoming accustomed to disappointment made him uncomfortable.
The Professor called a halt. "All right, that′s the last test."
Sig turned to Giselle. "Did you get any interesting readings?"
Arthur held up a hand. "Not just yet. We must attempt the same in the other form."
"Attempt? I appreciate the faith you have in me." Sig muttered.
"It′s for the baseline measurement."
Giselle looked quizzical "Other form?"
"Yes, change. Giselle prepare to take measurements."
Sig reached and pulled the chain holding the enchanted talisman Grampa Thor gave him from his shirt. He looked up at the ceiling to check clearance.
Appearing to be concerned she would miss the change, Giselle watched intently
He muttered the magic word that triggered his change, "Aðalbrandr."
"Holy crap!" She said.
Blurring and expanding rapidly, suddenly a nine-foot tall, seven-hundred pound Nordic warrior crouched in front of her.
Sig straightened up from the position he assumed while transforming to avoid crashing into ceilings. Before he fully straightened, the helmet he now wore brushed the overhead acoustic tiles. He shook his head. "I didn′t think it looked like a ten foot ceiling."
Giselle stood by her console with her mouth hanging open. She shut it and said, "Oh, that other form."
He went through the magic exercises again with the same lack of result.
When finished, the Professor asked Giselle, "What does the telemetry show?"
"Weirdness. Really weird."
"What manner of anomaly to you see?"
She pointed to one of the screens. "The potentiometer shoots up like a rocket." Then she pointed to the other screen. "But nothing happens."
Sig walked over and bent down to look. "Potentiometer?"
She pointed. "It measures stored magical energy. It tells us what potential a person gathers 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."<
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"So, the potential decreases after magic is expended?"
"Yes it does. We also measure how quickly the potential rebuilds, among other things."
"What are 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 them to determine efficiency."
She turned to look up at him. "You could say that you have zero efficiency. Everything dissipates. Nothing is expended. I measured 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.
"Is that a sword on your back?" Giselle asked.
Sig turned and pulled the five-foot long broadsword, Aðalbrandr from the sheath on his back. "Oh, this little thing?" She tensed momentarily when he waggled the sword.
Relaxing, she smiled slowly. "I 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. I just found out about it and haven′t had any training. The main thing I know is that I can′t do most of the magical things I′m supposed to do."
The Professor walked to the table with the candelabrum and other practice artifacts. "Come examine this."
Sig and Giselle walked over.
He looked up at Sig. "Observe the bowl. What do you see?"
Sig blinked. A hazy image was dimming. "That′s Professor Balcescu. It looks like she′s holding a cup of coffee, and looking up at us." The image disappeared from the water.
"Yes, she′s quite sensitive." He pointed to the candelabrum. "Now observe there."
One of the candles was sagging and a drop of wax fell onto the table. Sig poked the puddle it made with a finger. Warm, but not hot enough to burn. "Yes, Professor, 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?" Sig asked.
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 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 that now held 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 than uttering random profanities. No, this resembles a delayed reaction. Is this the candle you focused upon, Sigurd?"
"No. I focused on that one," he said pointing two candles over at the one on the end.
"Well, apparently it′s not a question of your not having magic. As Giselle said, your readings are almost off the chart. Something prevents release. Then sometimes it spills out. None of the other artifacts are affected."
The Professor frowned with concentration. "You recognize the presence of magical beings even when they′re disguised, such as the zombies and the demon. You′ve described the sensing of magic almost as if it were a smell. 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 and don′t attempt any unsupervised magic. 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 stood, but couldn′t completely straighten before 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." Then she shook her head. "But I won′t say anything about it unless someone asks me."
"Will you request secrecy from 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. He recognized the beginning of a smile.
"See, the mirth starts to spill over."
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 dive into the social scene. Sig couldn′t 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." He pointed to the left past the eight-foot tall, magically shielded rock and wrought iron fence surrounding the three-acre estate.
Sig considered that for a moment. "There are a number of yards in the neighborhood where people keep horses. The Professor′s place is one of the small sized lots."
"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."
Sig′s drove down the driveway. At the street, he stopped and looked both ways. Rick pointed past him to the left, "Look, I think that′s the kid on the pony. Maybe you can talk to him about that 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 them, he 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". As his body expanded, he shoved the door into the huge wolf and its rider. Sig′s head slammed into the roof but the push gave him enough clearance to d
uck, squeeze out, and unsheathe his sword.
He brought it up and blocked a sword chop to his head. After diving below another slash, he rolled away, rising to his feet just in time. The wolf pivoted. Sig blocked blows the helmeted 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 Sig′s ankles. He 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 down toward his head.
The wolf pulled free and reared on two legs, tall enough to go for Sig′s throat. He seized it below the jaw to keep it away. 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 growling, writhing ball, teeth snapping.
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. Blood streaming from 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 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 gray-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 side of the helmet covering his face and head on fire.
The rider rolled to his feet and screeched, like a hawk. The black wolf disengaged. The rider jumped on its back, and they bounded away, smoke trailing from the burning helmet.
Rick started to give chase but Sig turned and grabbed him to stop him. He didn′t want Rick to run into an ambush.
