Wizard's Sword (The Battle Wizard Saga, No.2)

by C. M. Lance

  He opened the lab door for her. "How magic makes people think? Magic doesn′t make people think, they already think. Magic is something they do."

  "Thought processes develop as people change. Magic causes change. What if you suddenly give an ordinary person a great deal of power; will that make their value systems different? If you begin persecuting someone; what changes will that cause?" She said as she entered ahead of him.

  "Hmmm. I never thought of it."

  "I do. Like why would a guy open a door for a girl, when he thinks girls are beating the hell out of him?"

  Sig stopped and looked back at the door as it clicked shut, rolled his eyes at the ceiling, and then took quick steps to catch up to her. "So you′re going to be a physicist who screws with peoples′ heads."

  "Yeah, now that you put it that way, it sounds like fun." She chuckled. "Well you′re here." She motioned at the door as she walked past. "I′ve got a different assignment today."

  Sig stopped and watched her walk away. It was a nice walk, maybe even a great walk. "Thanks for the ride."

  She flipped her golden flame-colored hair out of the way, as she turned her head with a smile over her shoulder and said, "No prob."

  She′s smart and attractive, a nice combination if he could endure the mind games.

  Fiona sat across the kitchen island and shook her finger at Meredith. "You are a witch."

  Frowning she said, "Don′t call me that."

  "Or what, you′ll sic your Battle Wizard son on me? You are what you are."

  She shook her head and shrugged. "Think what you want."

  "I didn′t say bitch. I said witch."

  Meredith waved her hand dismissively. "I can live with bitch. There are times I′ve called myself that."

  "Well I say you′re a witch."

  Through clenched teeth, Meredith asked, "Who are you to call me that?′

  Fiona smiled at her. "I′m a practicing, card carrying, full blooded witch from a long line of witches on both sides of the English channel. I′ve trained more witches like you than I care to count." She paused a moment before continuing, "And I must admit, I can also be a royal bitch at times, when I don′t get my way, or my chocolate."

  Meredith had to laugh at that, despite the fact that what she had learned from Fiona about the changed world and her own place in it made her extremely uncomfortable.

  Fiona stood, arched her eyebrows, and stretched to her full five-feet-nine-and-a-half inches, tugged the sash of her robe snug, and looked down her nose at Meredith. "Don′t laugh at the power of chocolate! Everyone knows 'Eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog, adder's fork and blindworm′s sting, lizard's leg and howlet's wing.′— whatever the hell a howlet is—but the real secret to a potion is chocolate."

  "You put chocolate in the potion?"

  "Oh hell no! In the witch! Put chocolate in the potion? What a waste of good chocolate."

  Meredith laughed so hard, she feared she would fall off the tall counter stool.

  Fiona continued lecturing. "Without the calming power of the fruit of the cocoa tree, spells can be spoiled. A tense witch becomes a careless witch. I put a little frog toe in the potion and then a little chocolate in myself, then a little adder′s fork in the potion, then more chocolate for me."

  Meredith looked at her questioningly. "You are joking, aren′t you?"

  Fiona waggled her finger. "Never joke about chocolate. Of course, I′m joking. I wouldn′t know where to find an adder′s fork. Do adders use forks? They don′t have hands. How can they hold a fork?"

  Meredith carefully took a sip of coffee, fearing that Fiona might hurl another witticism while she had her mouth full of coffee. She didn′t want to laugh and blow hot coffee out her nose.

  Meredith enjoyed having Fiona around, despite her discomfort at what she had learned about herself. It had been like a girl′s slumber party. In her world, men had surrounded her, her late husband Martin, Sig her son, her father Edward, and occasionally grandfather Thorval. She welcomed the change to feminine company.

  Fiona was as comfortable as an old shoe. Meredith found herself sharing things she rarely told anyone. Secrets such as her fear of magic, which intensified recently as she learned more about it.

  Grampa Thor and then Professor Herman discovered that Meredith had latent powers. They recruited Fiona to train her.

  Leading her gently but firmly, Fiona helped discover her magic. She assessed that Meredith had strong future viewing capabilities. She taught focus techniques including tarot cards, mantras, and talismans.

  They were performing relaxation exercises a few days earlier when Meredith looked around with surprise. "Sig, where are you? What are you doing back?" She rolled to her feet from the floor where she′d been lying, walked into the kitchen, and returned. "I feel Sig. It′s like he′s here, but I can′t find him."

  Fiona got up from the recliner and walked out to the porch. She stood with her face raised, as if scenting the air. "Sigurd? Arthur?" Fiona turned to Meredith when she stepped outside to join her, "They were here, but they′re gone now."

  "What do you mean?"

  "We were the subjects of a distance viewing. Both Sig and Arthur viewed us. It′s strange, but it felt like Sig cast the vision and Arthur joined. I didn′t feel it until I walked out here on the porch. I′m amazed that you felt it in there."

  "You think Sig did it? Perhaps he′s breaking through."

  "Perhaps. You felt the viewing. That demonstrates a degree of sensitivity I didn′t know that you had."

  "Well he is my son."

  "That may have some bearing or it might not. It′s not an exact science."

  "Do you mean all that you′re teaching me is a colossal maybe?"

  "We′re trying to find the most effective techniques for you. Only you will be able to judge which work best. Of course, it′s good to know all the techniques. Different situations, different techniques. Different practitioners, different results. What may not work in one circumstance may be exactly right for another."

  "So you′ve told me."

  "I also told you to consider trading options in addition to stocks. If you can sense the direction and magnitude of an equity movement, options will give you much more leverage."

  "Now that I know that I use magic to pick stocks, I′m uncomfortable that it gives me an unfair advantage. Isn′t that the reason governments are making magic practitioners register? Some politicians say that those with magic will swindle normals."

  "You don′t think that it didn′t give you an unfair advantage before you knew you had magic?"

  "You know what I mean."

  "I′m not sure I do. Hedge fund managers use experts, sophisticated software, and other technology to which you don′t have access. They use money and expensive technology to take advantage of both normals and those who are magical. Remember what Artie Clark said. 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic′?"

  "Artie Clark? Do you mean Sir Arthur C. Clark the novelist and futurist?"

  "His disruptive thought processes on religion, society, and evolution were so leading edge—and he was such a darling. I loved scuba diving with him in Sri Lanka."

  "You knew Arthur Clark?"

  "As a young man he followed me to Sri Lanka. I introduced him to scuba diving. He remained there after I moved on. I don′t stay anywhere for long. I leave before they notice that I don′t change enough."

  "What do you mean you don′t change enough?"

  "Darling, the best part of being a witch; the more you practice white magic, the slower you age."

  "Only white magic?"

  "Black magic can slow the aging process too. In fact, it can be used to stop or even reverse it more radically than white magic. However, know that every year saved is one hundred years of intense suffering in Hell."

  Thanks to Giselle, Sig arrived at the measurement lab a few minutes early. The Professor walked in five minutes later. "It appears I am belated with
my ostentation lecture."

  Sig hitched a hip up on a lab table and assumed an attentive demeanor. His chin rested on the fist supported by his knee. His eyes were intent on the Professor′s face.

  The Professor gave him a quizzical look. "Did I advise you we would be talking about this?"

  "No, but Rick mentioned that it would be coming."

  The Professor smiled and shook his head. "I am getting too predictable. Perhaps Rick knows me too well. That is often a good quality in a lab assistant, but sometimes less so."

  He looked into Sig′s eyes. "The timing seems appropriate. You assumed your other form in public recently."

  "How do you know?" He considered for a moment. "Were you the one that you I felt watching?"

  "You sensed someone watching you?"

  "Yes, but when I searched, I couldn′t find anyone."

  "Interesting. Distance viewing recognition is a high level skill." He looked at Sig speculatively.

  "Why were you watching?"

  "I enjoy a good fencing match. I was quite a jouster in my day. I wanted to know the outcome of your match with Bella. I watched it on the big screen."

  "The big screen? Wait, I didn′t see any cameras in the facility."

  With a mysterious look, the Professor motioned for Sig to follow through a door he hadn′t paid attention to before. Inside, through thick steam floating at waist level and above, he could see water roiling in a hot tub. A tall director′s style canvas chair stood next to the hot tub. The Professor grandly gestured toward the tub. "The big screen."

  He flipped a switch on the wall. The noise from the hot tub stopped. After the waters stilled he waved his hands over the hot tub. He used the same gestures, when he tried, unsuccessfully, to teach Sig to perform distance viewing with a pan of water.

  Fog rose from the surface, spilled over the sides, and then dispersed before it quite covered the floor of the room. Sig found himself looking down at the Amazon training facility. He felt like a fly on the ceiling. "Wow."

  Women warriors were sparring and lifting weights. The vision lacked the sound of clanging weights and clashing swords to which he′d become accustomed.

  When the image faded, the Professor sat in the director′s chair and motioned for Sig to pull up another chair. He waited until Sig settled and then asked him, "Before you discovered your own, did you envy people with magic?"

  Sig looked contemplative before he responded. "I still do. People with magic that works."

  "When you didn′t know you had magic, did you resent those who did?"

  Sig focused on the Professor′s eyes and then looked away, "Yes. Yes, I did."

  "Why?"

  Sig looked back. "Because they had something I wanted and couldn′t have."

  "Why did you want it?"

  Sig frowned. "They do things I can′t, things that make life easier, more fun."

  "So, you resent them because their life is easier, they have advantages you don′t have, and they received those gifts for nothing."

  "That sums it up."

  "The same can be said of professional athletes."

  "I don′t think so. They may have special physical gifts, but a successful professional athlete has to work very hard to get to and stay at the top. He′s competing with others just like himself, or herself." He was learning not to overlook women′s accomplishments again.

  "Now, in that context, consider how others feel about someone capable of changing, on a whim, into a nine-foot tall, seven-hundred pound Battle Wizard—complete with sword."

  "But that′s all I can do. I don′t have any of the other magic that I′m supposed to have. Magic I need to protect myself from the Dark Mage who apparently wants to kill me."

  "People looking at you don′t know what you can′t do. They only see what you can do, and it is impressive. You bested and demoralized an All-America football player, who intimidates everyone who crosses his path. Do you think others might envy and resent you just for that?"

  Sig shrugged and then nodded. "Probably."

  "Would you conjecture that feelings such as you had toward those who can practice magic are common throughout the non-magical populace as a whole?"

  Sig took a moment to reflect. "Yes, I would guess it might be."

  "Envy, resentment, fear, and distrust go hand-in-hand. People expect the magical gifted to act selfishly, in their own best interest; after all, the basest human nature tends in that direction."

  "But a lot of people care for others in many ways. I did almost one hundred hours of community service last year."

  "Commendable. I believe the same can be said for many people who progress through our court systems."

  "Mine wasn′t part of a punishment. I…"

  The Professor raised a hand. "I assumed it wasn′t and I sincerely meant it when I said it was commendable. There are many more who don′t perform community service than those who do. The magical community isn′t different.

  "Let me add another factor to the equation. Magic has gotten stronger, that means it has become easier for people to have magic. Many of those who now have magic haven′t had training to develop their skills nor, more importantly, their ethics. Raw talent without guidance makes for a dangerous combination."

  "I can understand that."

  "Lastly, there are those who practice the dark arts. No matter how altruistically they may begin, black magic will eventually subjugate and corrupt them. Those who practice evil become evil. Calling a minor demon will goad the practitioner to try for more powerful. It will continue until either becoming completely immersed in the Black powers, or being consumed by a demon."

  Sig nodded.

  "A final thought to leave you with; when those with magic abuse their powers, do you suppose that reflects poorly on other practitioners — justified or not?"

  "All are good reasons to stay under the radar, right?"

  "All are excellent reasons. Remember, we are ambassadors of magic. You must always maintain best behavior, particularly if known as a practitioner. The scrutiny becomes intense if your secret is revealed."

  "Now that′s another reason to stay under the radar."

  "I don′t worry about you, my boy."

  "Thank you, professor. You mentioned Dmitri. When I shook him something fell out of his pocket."

  The Professor replied dryly. "I saw a number of things plummet, including his pride."

  "Something strange, disgustingly strange fell out of his pockets. I′ve never seen anything like it, and don′t want to again."

  The Professor gestured at the hot tub. "You blocked my view when you bent to pick up whatever lay on the floor. What did it look like?"

  Sig hesitated. "It most resembled a polished turd. I know that sounds weird, but brown, lumpy, cylindrical, and tapered at each end, that′s the best description I can come up with. And it had ugly colors running through it."

  "Hmmm, go on."

  "When I tried to pick it up, as I touched it, I suddenly felt sick, nauseous, as if I had a terrible taste in my mouth. I flicked it away and the feeling mostly stopped. However, the weirdest thing happened when I stomped on it. It squealed when I squished it, then it evaporated, leaving a sickening odor. That′s when Dmitri ran out of the facility."

  "You said ugly colors. What colors?"

  "Red, purple, and green streaks and there may have been yellow flecks, too. It looked smooth. Lumpy smooth, if that makes any sense."

  "Your discomfort with it interests me. You′ve evidenced an unexpected sensitivity to magic. Zombies, demons, remote viewing, sensing Andras, and who knows what else."

  "Why is that interesting?"

  "It′s as if you exhibit one-way magic. You sense magic, but you don′t perform magic, other than the ability to change. It′s as if… as if your body encases your magic. Hmmm." He stroked his mustache with an index finger.

  "Is it familiar to you? Do you recognize the problem?"

  "No. Completely unfamiliar, but we′re learning more about th
e symptoms. Perhaps someday we can find a cure. I′ll also research your lumpy smooth 'turd′. It may take a while if it leads to black magic."

  After interviewing for eight different research-assistant jobs, Sig reached a mutual agreement with Randy Wheatley. Wheatley, with a doctorate in Engineering, was determined to find ways to provide low cost power to the world at the intersection of magic and physics. He wanted to find practical applications, not just explore theory. One approach he pursued involved finding ways to store magic like electrical energy— in effect a magic battery. Other investigations delved into ways to transport electricity using Ley lines, methods to improve the performance of windmills, and using magic to accomplish nuclear fusion.

  Sig liked the wide-ranging and open-ended research plans, and he enjoyed Wheatley′s infectious enthusiasm. He had full confidence they would eventually make significant break throughs, which would benefit the world. His zeal reminded Sig of the revival preachers he had seen in rural Minnesota. Wheatley was determined to convert the world to inexpensive energy and take it to the promised land of increased productivity and a heavenly Gross National Product.

  It wasn′t just a job; it was a ride Sig wanted to go on.

  It took Sig over two weeks to get a check from the insurance company. To bum rides he mostly tapped Giselle and Professor Herman′s generosity while he waited for the money. Rick even carted him a few times in his decrepit old car. Rick drove what would have been a classic, a 1969 Olds Toronado, if rust wasn′t the glue holding the car together. He didn′t drive it at night since he never knew when the hidden headlights would elect to stay hidden. Many years ago, Rick′s pack had settled in Michigan′s Upper Peninsula. They found privacy and plentiful game in the expansive woods, but its harsh winter destroyed cars.

  Giselle, Rick, and Bella drove by to pick up Sig for a Friday evening out. He still sparred with Arianna, Bella, and other Amazons. He taught them the fine points of Karate and Kendo. They taught him the fine points of free style and dirty fighting. Everyone progressed.