Wizard's Sword (The Battle Wizard Saga, No.2) (25 page)

"That′s OK Mom. You′ve given me information I didn′t have before."

"I hope it helps."

"Me too. Thanks and good luck with your training."

"I love you Sig."

"You too Mom."

He disconnected and stared out the window for a few minutes with a furrowed brow. From Mom′s vision, he knew a little more about approaching danger, but would the information do him any good, or would it only be useful in reflection? Would he be alive to say, 'Oh, that′s what it meant′?

He smacked his forehead. "Damn, I forgot to ask her about training for the
piaffe
."

He picked up his phone, selected Call History, and redialed her.

The thought of meeting Andras again goaded Sig. He fenced at least two Amazons at-a-time every day, sometimes three. As he improved, even Bella joined a team.

Just as with Andras, he could defend, but couldn′t get far enough ahead to attack.

Mary Beth stopped by one day when he fought Bella and Karina, another high-level swordfighter. Mary-Beth watched for five minutes before interrupting. "You defend very well but you never attack. You create a steel curtain of defense, but it has no thorns. Your potential to be a master swordsman, won′t blossom without aggression."

Sig ducked his head. "I know. I don′t ever seem to get far enough ahead to attack."

"You can′t wait to get ahead to attack, or you′ll end up dead. Furthermore, you can′t do what you never practice." She held out her hand for Karina′s sword. "I am going to give you three exercises. You will practice attacking out of blocks."

She demonstrated the three exercises. Each exercise consisted of generating an offensive maneuver from several different defensive positions. "As you work on these, develop a rhythm. Instead of block, block, block it must become block, slash, block, thrust, block, and slice. Your current technique doesn′t put your opponent off balance. Take away their constant hack, slice, thrust. Make them replace offensive moves with defensive moves. Use your rhythm to force them to change theirs."

She returned Katrina′s sword and said to Sig, "Over to the practice dummy. Work on your rhythm before you face an opponent."

For the next two hours, he beat up the practice dummy. He quit when the dummy began getting the best of him. His arms felt like noodles when he changed clothes. He knew anything that tired him that much had to be good for him. Maybe in a week he′d be ready for live opponents if he spent at least an hour with the dummy every day.

Dmitri backed up on the broad stone porch almost to the flagstone steps that cascaded down to the manicured lawn and looked left and right and then again. He had toiled up those steps, thumped the verdigris copper knocker, and waited, but nothing happened. What next? He′d been summoned. He stepped up to the enormous carved double doors and reached for the Gargoyle knocker again. The patinaed replica of a demon′s head appeared immense even in his massive hand.

He released the bar to swing free. The thud echoed through the spacious entryway behind the doors. He knew the space; he′d been here before. He waited.

He tried the door latch. It moved. The door swung silently open. He hesitated. "Is anyone here?"

Silence.

He took off his shoes and left them on the floor in front of the carved antique sideboard with the large vase filled with a fresh flower arrangement. In socks, he padded toward the back of the house.

His "Hello" echoed again in the stillness. 

He reached into his pocket and felt the demon′s finger bone. Inert since the summoning, it now directed him to the cellar below the basement. He choked back a sob.

He descended into the basement hallway that led to a wood paneled recreation room. Inside the room, he walked past the snooker table, around the poker table, and turned right at the end of the shuffleboard. There he proceeded through a door into a large storage area. Two doors stood at the far end of the storage area. He opened the door on the left and took a deep breath.

As he padded down the stone stairs, he detected a coppery smell. He hesitated before he entered the stone vaulted hallway. Lining the hallway on both sides, heavy wooden doors were set into stone walls. He reached into his pocket again. It confirmed what he feared, the door on the end.

Hand shaking, he turned the doorknob. The door swung open on blackness.

A voice hissed. "In, and close the door." In the dim light from the hallway, he saw the chair. After he closed the door, he edged across in the stygian dark until he bumped into it.

"Sit."

He sat. "I smell blood."

"Yes, I needed a virgin sacrifice. Regrettably, she didn′t qualify. Twelve and not a virgin, sad commentary."

Dmitri remained silent.

"Your brothers are here. They have her."

Dmitri′s head whipped about frantically in the pitch dark. "My brothers, here?"

"Not in this room."

"All of them?"

"Yes. Would you care to visit with them?"

"No! Please no."

"Very well, I have an assignment for you. On the poker table is a vial of liquid. It must go into the boy′s food tonight."

"What if he doesn′t come?"

"Today is the dart tournament. He′ll be there with his friend, the Were. Put it in his food. Bring him here when he loses consciousness. Place him on the floor outside the stairway and leave."

"Yes Father."

Like a slap, the voice hissed out at him. "Never call me that!"

Dmitri ducked his head and pulled his shoulders up. The darkness echoed silence.

"Is it a magic potion?"

"No. He′s a Battle Wizard. Magic won′t work. It′s a drug. There′s enough for two doses, in case you spill or fail with the first. Leave now and bring him here—tonight."

Dmitri rose and felt his way to the door. The light from the hallway blinded him after the total darkness. When his eyes recovered, he turned to look back into the cavernous room. It appeared empty except for the chair that sat in the middle of the circle inscribed on the floor.

A snarl issued from down the end of the hallway. His brothers. He bounded up the stone stairway. Rushing through the recreation room, he swept the vial off the poker table, ran up the steps, through the mansion, and out the front door.

He lumbered down the long driveway, through the iron gates, all the way back to his car parked in the street, and never looked back.

Sig exited the University hospital after visiting Grampa Thor, again disappointed at the continuing lack of change in his great-grandfather. Food went in one tube and waste out another. There weren′t any visions this time when he held Grampa′s hand. Visits to the hospital left him depressed.

He drove to pick Rick up, sure that Rick would sense his depression, but wouldn′t let it ruin his night.

Sure enough, he smiled compassionately at Sig when he hopped into the Jeep and clapped a consoling hand on his shoulder. Then he asked, "Will the Professor be there tonight? I′d like to have him keep the game honest and watch me win again tonight."

Sig shook his head. "No, he′s out of town and flies in after midnight. I′m supposed to pick him up at Midway airport."

"Darn, I hoped he could check the darts tonight. Last time he caught the leprechaun with hot darts. I figure the big Moldovan will try the same thing."

"Do you think the Moldovan trusts you?"

"Of course not… it goes without saying. That′s why we need a checker."

"Have you ever used ensorcelled darts?"

Rick patted the breast pocket of his jacket. "Magic." He leaned forward and patted his hip pocket. "Normal."

"I wondered why you wore the jacket tonight. I thought you didn′t believe in using magic."

"It′s like the Tour de France, if one person dopes, everyone has to dope. They say Lance Armstrong didn′t do anything the other top competitors didn′t do. He just pissed the powers that be off because he won so much."

"I′ve never seen you caught with hot darts."

"I only pull them out if there′s an incompetent checker. That′s why I wanted the Professor here, to ensure that everyone′s clean. I like a level playing field. I like it better if no one uses magic. However, I′d hate it if I lost because his magic was better than mine."

"Who spells your darts?"

"Ve all haf our ways. Mine lipsch are zealed." Rick said with a contorted leer.

Sig grimaced as he stopped to drop Rick at the Game Room front door. "OK, keep your secrets Dr. Frankenstein. Find us a table while I park. I′m famished." 

Upon entering, he spotted Rick at a high top table. Beyond the table, he saw Dmitri chatting up three waitresses. He just didn′t understand the attraction. He shook his head and hiked his haunch up into in a seat across from Rick.

Rick looked up. "What?"

"Mr. Nastase. He′s chatting up some waitresses and they′re smiling. Some people have no taste."

Rick glanced over at Dmitri and turned back with a shrug. "Speaking of taste, I′m going to get the half pound burger with grilled onions and blue cheese."

"Aren′t onions vegetables?"

"Don′t say that. You′ll make me loose my appetite. I think of grilled onions as the other white meat."

"All right, with that bit of wisdom, I think I′ll have the lasagna — with meat sauce and meatballs, and sausage."

Rick beamed and pointed at him with both hands, fingers imitating a sideways pistol. "Now that′s what I am talking about."

"And a salad."

"Oh man, you just ruined it."

"Balance, everything in balance. My balance is different than yours."

"Whatever."

One of the waitresses finally broke away from Dmitri and sauntered up to take their orders. "Are you going to write it down?" Rick asked. She rolled her eyes and turned on her heel.

"I hope she doesn′t spit in our food." Sig said with a glare at Rick.

Rick snorted and waved a hand dismissively. "Growing up in a pack, spit is the least of my worries. Let′s chunk some darts at a circle while we wait."

They strolled over to the dart area and Sig served as Rick′s warm up partner. Darts weren′t Sig′s expertise. He could throw a sword or even an axe more accurately.

Rick thoroughly whipped Sig, and they returned to the table. Their meals awaited. Rick finished his burger and fries in less than three minutes. Sig ate his salad with garlic bread first and started on the lasagna with sausage and meatballs.

Rick jumped up. "Ready to get your butt whipped again?"

Sig smiled. "One whipping a day is my quota. I′m over quota today after you and the Amazons trounced me. Go ahead; I have to finish my meal."

Rick strutted away to the dart venue, prepared to conquer the world. Sig felt weary. It must be due to the extra practice dummy workout with the sword today.

He mopped up the remaining lasagna sauce with the final piece of garlic bread. He got up and sat back down. Dizzy? He wanted to go to bed, but had to stay and give Rick a ride home and then pick up the Professor later.

He pushed the plates away and laid his head on his hands for a few moments of rest before watching the dart matches.