Wizard's Sword (The Battle Wizard Saga, No.2) (7 page)

"Yesssss, I want to crush his bones and suck the marrow, eat his liver, burn his heart."

"Leave now and I will bring you back when the time is right. If you refuse, there are others. Azazel, Asmodeus, or Belial will come and do my bidding."

Andras howled. "Belial! His beauty hides a forked tongue. Bah. You deserve each other." The harmonics in his roar again shivered across the Wizard′s skin.

"Bring me back, you will, to kill the Wizard… and his friends? You will let me soak the soil with their blood?" Andras asked.

"Someone will do it. Someone who will do my bidding."

"If I kill you, I can finish him as I please." He leapt at the circle again. The boundaries flexed even more.

The mage felt sweat trickling down his face. He refused to wipe it and demonstrate fear. "Before you can get to me I will bring Belial and the others to cast you back, never to return." He gathered up a paintbrush and a container of viscous red liquid. "Leave now or I will summon the others. I have enough virgin blood to paint the sigils I need. I begin now." He opened the container and dipped the brush in.

Andras screamed, "Bring me back or I will return to kill you." He leapt on the wolf and they charged through a portal that appeared in the rock wall, disappearing from this world.

When the portal sealed with a snap, the wizard crumpled to the floor and wept. 

†††

An hour later, courage restored by two snifters of brandy, the Dark Mage summoned Dmitri. He could have beckoned him with a spell. Instead, with hands still trembling, he dialed Dmitri′s cell phone.

Dmitry arrived and shuffled into the Mage′s study with shoulders hunched, as if fearing a blow. "Yes, f-f-Master?" The hall light provided the only illumination.

The Mage motioned Dmitri closer after setting a crystal box in the middle of his empty desk. In the dim room, the box pulsed with an inner light

He pushed the lid back and rotated the box to show Dmitri. Inside, a greenish brown lump pulsed with light ranging from dark purple to an orange glow. The Mage gestured with a menacing smirk. "A demon′s egg. Take it. Touch it to the boy′s skin to gather his essence. When it hatches, it will target him with a singleness of purpose."

Dmitri reached in; eyes shut, and touched it. His eyes opened and he visibly relaxed. "It didn′t hurt me."

"Of course not. It′s not targeted for Trolls. I offered up the pain and lives of innocents as sacrifice for a specifically focused egg. Before the demon spawn turns on you, take it to him."

Dmitri′s eyes widened. He put the egg into his pocket and hurried out of the study.

Sig spent the day interviewing for positions within the department. A postdoctoral student assembled a team to develop a magical strength rating system. Sig′s remembered Rick′s comment that only vain magicians and scholars cared about classifications. Another project involved specifying dimensional attributes. Although the existence of multiple dimensions had become an established scientific theory, few of them were accessible safely, and those by only a few powerful wizards.

At three, fed up with interviewing, he left to walk to the Amazon′s training center to be ready for his appointment with Bella at four o′clock. He carried his bamboo shinai practice swords and a bag containing fencing armor and his gi.

This time, he changed in the storeroom reserved for men.

When he emerged to the clanking, slapping, and low drone of people exercising, there were more women than last time. Besides those working out, several stood around chatting. As he walked into the large open space looking for Bella, the conversations quieted or stopped.

He noticed her warming up in a far corner of the room near a rear entrance. She looked around at him at the same time. She smiled and waved him over. A bamboo shinai was clutched in her other hand.

"Well there′s the conquering hero. Ready for your next conquest?" she asked sardonically.

"I′m not here to conquer anyone. I want to workout. Besides, I think I got lucky last time."

"Hmmm. We′ll see. What ground rules would you like?"

"What are the house rules?"

She arched a single eyebrow. Sig found it very attractive and the muscle control impressed him.

"What about naked steel Falchions to the death?" She asked.

Sig laughed and wondered about her testosterone level. He raised one of his swords and pointed at hers. "How about shinai until we′re tired?"

"I suppose you′ll want to wear protective headgear as well?"

"I wouldn′t leave home without it."

"How do you want to count points?"

"I′m here for practice. I don′t care about points. Whatever you feel comfortable with, but I′d prefer just a friendly joust."

"Friendly joust. Sounds like an oxymoron. Is freestyle OK?"

"Sure, that sounds interesting. Does that include Karate, boxing, and biting?"

She briefly looked taken aback. "Let′s just concentrate on swords today."

"Time limit?"

"Three minute rounds?"

Sig nodded. "Lead the way."

"Is here alright?"

Sig looked around and saw twenty women surrounding them. He pointed toward the crowd. "OK, they may want to back up a bit and leave an opening. I may need room to run." He noticed several of the women smile and nod.

Bella held out her sword. Sig touched his to hers with a clack. As soon as it made contact, she lunged with her point at his chest. Remembering Arianna′s tactic from the start of their match, he was ready for Bella, using his sword to guide hers to slide past.

He stepped beyond her, and then hacked down and back at her Achilles. She managed to block him as she spun. His sword struck the ground below her heel instead of her leg.

She attacked fiercely, slashing and hacking. He managed to block most of her assault as he backed away. It reminded him uncomfortably of the battle with Andras.

He recognized an expert opponent when he met one; particularly given the freeform style of the match. Not quite the same as street fighting, but it combined elements of kendo, fencing, and eskrima, the Philippine fighting form. Her technique depended upon attack elements. He analyzed her attack and noted an occasionally repeated pattern – a thrust, followed by a diagonal cut, sweeping into an overhead chop. The next time she did it, he stepped forward when she raised the sword for the overhand, and thrust hard into her upper sternum, then dropped and rolled to his left.

As he sprang to his feet out of the roll, expecting a back slash, the woman watching the clock called, "Time."

Bella dropped the tip of her sword to the ground and rubbed her chest. She glowered at him.

Sig bent over, hands on his knees, panting. He knew that blood loss from wounds she inflicted, if it were a battle with real swords, would weaken him. If it weakened him more than he felt now, he′d be dead. He looked up at her. "You developed a pattern I took advantage of. Thrust, diagonal slash, then overhead hack. Watch for it in the next round. Meanwhile, I think I′m bleeding to death."

She looked speculatively at him. He leaned his sword against the wall and walked in a circle, hands on hips, breathing deeply. Keep her guessing and thinking. Maybe next time he′d make up a false observation to confuse her.

After a minute′s rest, they resumed. Sig noticed that Bella′s attack this time appeared tentative, so he became the aggressor. She used a different technique. Quite a number of her combinations included slashes at the legs. A number of them connected. It was a good strategy. Weaken the legs and slow your opponent, then attack the vital core.

He incorporated some of her technique into his attack. It slowed him down as he thought through new combinations instead of reacting. That opened him up for her counters. When the timekeeper called an end, they both bent over, hands on knees, spent, sweating, and with imaginary blood running down their bodies.

Sig bowed to her. "Thanks for the match. I learned a lot from you today. Instead of going for killing or crippling blows, to gain points, bleed your opponent. Gain victory instead. Well played."

Her eyes widened in surprise. She bowed back. When she looked up, her mouth opened in surprise. A rough push from behind knocked Sig to his knees. "Tough guy, you come here to beat up on girls?"

As he fell, Sig recognized the voice. He rolled through his fall forward into a somersault, rising into a defensive crouch.

He spun around to find Dmitri Nastase′s ugly face smiling down on him. Sig faked a punch then dropped into a leg sweep that caught Dmitri behind the knee. It felt like leg sweeping an oak, and was equally effective. Dmitri barely swayed, and then lashed out with a work boot clad foot.

Sig dodged the kick and stepped in with combination punches to the giant′s kidneys. He grunted and swept a massive fist at Sig′s face, who ducked, but the glancing blow to the top of his head made him see stars.

The stars revealed to him that this wasn′t the best decision he′d ever made. Where was Rick to provide common sense when he needed it?

Another blow swept in. He dodged it but not the returning backhand that knocked him down. He rolled and sprang back to his feet, but Dmitri was quick. Before Sig settled his feet, the hulk grabbed for him. Sig, in turn, grabbed handfuls of the brute′s denim jacket and rolled backwards lifting with his feet, launching Dmitri over his head. He landed with a boom.

Unfortunately, he held onto Sig′s gi when he landed. When they both rose, his huge paw still grasped Sig. He pulled Sig close and punched him in the ribs. To his ears, his breathe expelled with the sound of a stomped on chicken. His diaphragm froze. Air that he desperately needed was all around but he couldn′t suck it in. Being hit with a sledgehammer would be as pleasant. Before Sig recovered, Dmitri grabbed his gi in both hands, whirled like an Olympic hammer thrower, and launched Sig at the door ten feet away.

His head and the back of his shoulders slammed into the door, knocking it open. Momentum carried him outside. He tumbled down the steps, landing in a heap at the bottom. Smashing into the door had one good result. He could inhale again. Air was definitely not overrated. Expecting further attack, he scrambled to his feet, but the door swung closed. He looked right and left but didn′t see anyone. Good, no witnesses to his ignominious exit. Except for all of the Amazons inside. His lip raised in a snarl. Time to even things up. "Aðalbrandr."

†††

Striding to the door, he sheathed his sword over his back. When he opened the door, a smiling, Dmitri, stood two steps inside and smacked his fist into a meaty palm. Sig heard chattering in the background.

He ducked and twisted his shoulders to enter through the training facility door. As he entered and straightened up, the room fell silent. Dmitri′s smile collapsed as he looked upwards. His stunned expression and gaping mouth indicated that he′d never looked up at someone over two feet taller.

Enjoying the moment, Sig reached out with an index finger the size of the fat end of a pool cue, and poked it into Dmitri′s chest. "My little friend told me that someone jumped him from behind. I bet you did. You look like the type of weasel that would." Dmitri took a step backward.

"Was it you?" Sig poked his chest again.

Dmitri blustered, "We were just playing around. Nobody got hurt. Who in the hell are you?"

"Playing?" Sig stepped forward in a flash and shoved Dmitri with both hands. He landed on his butt and slid across the waxed concrete floor.

Sig smiled. "Can anyone play or do the rules say that I have to push you from behind?"

Dmitri looked around and growled, "What the hell are you smiling about?"

Sig glanced to the side and saw Giselle smiling. She winked.

He walked toward Dmitri, who scooted backwards across the floor. Malevolence radiated from Dmitri, flooding Sig′s senses, but it wasn′t Dmitri. It was something new emanating from near him. Sig bent, grabbed Dmitri′s feet and lifted him into the air. He shook him up and down. Articles dropped out of Dmitri′s pockets. Sig let go and Dmitry dropped to the floor in a heap.

His wallet, keys, the chewed stub of a pencil, a receipt, and a few coins fell out and scattered on the ground along with a strange looking object. Dark brown with mottled red, purple, and green striations running through it, it looked like a polished turd. Sig reached out to pick it up between thumb and index finger.

As soon as he touched it, he flicked it away in disgust. It made him feel nauseous, creating a foul taste in his mouth, like gargling used motor oil. He wanted to spit.

His foot raised and stomped on the object. A shriek from it abruptly terminated as he mashed it into the concrete.

Dmitri, shouted, "No." 

Sig glared at him with disgust. "What the hell is that?"

Dmitri jumped to his feet and hurried out the door. Sig watched him go and then looked back to the smear on the floor. It was a good thing that Dmitri left. He wanted to feed it to him. If he could bear to touch it again. His eyes widened in surprise as the smear evaporated in less than twenty seconds. A nasty smell laced with the scent of brimstone lingered.