Wizard's Sword (The Battle Wizard Saga, No.2) (24 page)

Sig saddled her and took her around the three-and-a-half-foot jump-training course. She handled like a dream, collecting well, with no sign of refusal. In fact, she showed an eagerness to be airborne.

As he took her around, several Amazons gathered on the edges of the course, leaning against the fences to watch. Most were riders he had schooled before.

She performed splendidly when he put her through some dressage paces, until he tried her in a
piaffe
. She broke down slightly, recovered, and then faltered. With a little work, he felt he could have her performing well. Realizing that a call home was overdue; he decided to reach out to his Mom for training tips.

Several Amazons along the fence line applauded when he finished.

Slightly embarrassed, he smiled at them and saluted after he dismounted. He walked the mare to cool her. Two of the girls fell in with him, one on each side. "You really rode her well. I watched Merriam and she didn′t do nearly as well."

"I didn′t do anything except give the horse the correct cues. Someone has trained her well; the real work will be in keeping her trained and improving her. That′s the fun part."

"Merriam knocked down a jump and you didn′t knock any down."

Sig flashed a crooked grin at her. "You don′t need to tattle to me. Merriam is in charge out here, I just help out."

"I′m not tattling. I′m just saying you′re better in comparison."

"Oh, OK, but I think that′s the point in me helping out. I′ve had good training from an excellent coach, my Mom, and the Training Master wants me to pass it on to you guys."

When he unsaddled the horse, one Amazon took the saddle from him, and the other handed him the curry brush before she wiped the mare down with rags. The unaccustomed assistance made him wary. Perhaps they were helpful because of the new mare.

He led the big roan into her stall, closed the door, and turned to get oats for her. One of the Amazons held out a can.

"Thanks." He poured the oats into the feed bin. She grabbed him around the waist, pressed her chest against his back, and whispered, "Do you give remedial lessons?"

Sig stiffened. "What kind of remedial lessons?"

She moved her hands up to his chest. "You can tell me what I need."

He groaned inwardly, reluctantly reached up to remove her hands, and stepped back as he turned. "I′ll have to see you up on a horse, before I know what you need to work on." He exhaled deeply as he looked into her coal colored eyes. They seemed to be smoldering. "I have to get to work right now. Why don′t you set something up with Merriam? I′d like to have her at any lessons. She said she′d like to learn what I teach you guys."

The Amazon wet her lips and took a step forward. Sig stared at the pink tongue running across her lips and forced himself to step back. He exhaled. "I have to go. I′ll see you later uh…"

"Isabella." The sibilant way she said it drew his eyes back to her lips.

"Right, Isabella. I′ll see you later. Set something up with Merriam." He turned and jogged to his Jeep.

Sig started the Jeep but sat for a minute to let things settle. He′d been thinking about what Giselle told him. The emotions he felt confused him. The Amazons were attractive and made his hormones steam, but he didn′t think that he wanted to be a boy-toy to an Amazon tribe. He wanted more of a relationship—at least he thought so. Age-old taboos also played at his consciousness. Some were from other tribes. Were any related to him through his great grandmother? He remembered a saying "incest is always relative but not necessarily a parent."

After Dad died, Sig had been withdrawn and focused, when other guys were looking to score. The Amazons said he was masterful. He wasn′t.

But, when she grabbed him and pressed her front to his back, she felt so nice.

Crap. He jammed the Jeep in gear, spun it around in front of the barn, and sped off.

Sig drove to the library. His meeting with Giselle wasn′t scheduled for an hour, but he didn′t feel like he stretched the truth to Isabella since he needed to organize his research before they met.

Giselle arrived for their review. His research didn′t have color-coded tabs like hers, but he prided himself on his organization.

After a few preliminaries, he described his conversations with the Dean′s former classmates, beginning with Nancy Riley′s observations about wide emotional swings and potential bipolar symptoms. He had one confirmation, but no new information, from another acquaintance from college days, four 'do not recalls′, and he waited for a response from the seventh.

He noted that Professor Riley remembered the Dean′s white streak from college. "Every time I think of his white streak, something tickles my brain, but never rises to the surface. She also said that she recalled he studied in Europe$mdash;England or Germany. He has an Sc.D., not a Ph.D."

"He did study in Europe. One of his degrees is from a school in Brasov. It′s in Romania, in an area called Transylvania."

"Transylvania, isn′t that where Bram Stoker wrote about the legend of Dracula? The source of Gypsy magic?" Sig asked. It would be appropriate if scary music played now.

"Yup, that Transylvania."

"Spooky, but after all this time, if there are vampires in the world, they haven′t come out of the magic closet yet."

"Perhaps there are no vampires, but legends tie Transylvania to Black Magic in many more ways than that. The vampire legend is only one. An old cliché states 'where there′s smoke there′s fire′." Giselle looked grim.

"There′s another that says 'all generalizations are wrong — including this one′."

"How eloquent."

"I′d rather be erudite. I believe the saying can be tracked back to Dumas." Sig grinned at her.

"Hmm, let′s get back to our research."

"OK, I′ve given you everything I have. Do you have anything else?"

She nodded. "He finished his studies in England. I called up his thesis and found it very… unimpressive. I called the university to talk to his advisor but he′s dead. The department administrator admitted the Dean produced a weak thesis according to today′s standards, but that 'the times were different then′ and some more bull puckey. I could tell he wasn′t comfortable with its quality."

"We already know the Dean isn′t the shiniest car on the lot, but I thought an Sc.D. was awarded later and meant that you had achieved something special in your field."

"It's supposed to. Professor Riley said he acted brilliantly or he didn′t care. His research seemed to be the output of an 'I don′t care′ personality, but it got him his doctorate. Maybe he did something special later to earn the Sc.D that I haven't found yet. I wonder what the smart side of his brain studied while he skated through on the swill he published."

"All right, what next?"

Giselle suggested, "Let′s switch assignments for a fresh view. I′d like to research his undergraduate years here. We know he played chess, maybe I can find some teammates that didn′t make our list. There are yearbooks and other records I can review. Why don′t you take his more recent years?"

"Good idea. I may also look at the two Deans who preceded him to an early demise."

"What?"

"Something that Riley told me that I forgot to tell you. When the Dean assumed office, he turned out to be the third in the post in less than a year. The other two died of lightning related causes."

She stared at him for a beat. "You′re kidding. Lightning again?"

"People tend to lean on their strengths and what they′re used to. I see that all the time with you Amazons. People develop tendencies because they′re leaning on an asset."

"And I have observed that you are proficient at capitalizing on tendencies."

"Hmm. Are we ready to meet with Professor Herman?"

She thought for a moment. "Not yet, we′ll finish our next projects before we meet with him."

Sig called Mom to get
piaffe
training advice for the roan.

Professor Balcescu answered. "Hello Sigurd, your mother has stepped away from her phone for a few minutes. I saw your name on the phone so I picked up. How are things with you?"

"Going well. I think I′m doing well in classes, my research assignment is interesting, and I′m keeping in shape. How′s Mom doing under your tutoring?"

"She continually surpasses my expectation. Soon the student will become the teacher. In fact, I′m learning investment tricks from her. She′s trading options and going gangbusters, as they say."

"That′s great. Any other breakthroughs?"

"Last week she succeeded in lighting a candle with magic."

"That′s wonderful." Everyone can light a candle. Is there anyone who can′t light a candle… besides me?

"Here′s you mother. Nice talking with you Sigurd. I′ll see you in the fall when I return from sabbatical."

"Hello Sig. Are you OK?"

"Mom, I don′t call you just when there′s a problem."

"I know, but I′ve had another one of those visions."

He frowned. "Involving me?"

"Yes, I saw you in a dungeon or a jail. There were some misshapen people and a fight. Someone took your medallion. When the dream fades, your voice says, "Aðalbrandr is part of me."

Sig waited for more. "That′s all?"

"No, I also see the owl and wolf again, but not at the jail. They′re in the distance."

"Hmmm, let′s hope he stays in the distance. Jail or dungeon? Not many dungeons in Chicago. I′ll do my best to stay out of jails."

"In my vision, the jail is below ground, that′s why I call it a dungeon."

"Are there bars on the door"?

After a beat she said, "I seem to remember bars."

"The misshapen people, are they small, big, crippled, dwarves, are there a lot of them?"

"Big, I think. Not crippled and there are a few, more than one and less than a half dozen."

"Misshapen in what way?"

"Ugly, wide, with big knotty muscles, long arms, big hands, big feet, sparse hair, that′s all that comes to me now."

"That sounds like a nightmare not a vision. Are they a danger to you?"

"No, not me, they′re a danger to you. They go with the jail in my vision."

"It′s not very clear."

"I know dear. Fiona says that′s the problem with visions."

He heard a click on the line. "Hello Sig, Meredith, excuse me for butting in like this but I heard my name mentioned and it sounded like my specialty. You′re telling Sig about your latest viewing?"

"Yes, I am."

"Let me put it into perspective. Would the last vision you had about Sig have been clear except in retrospect? It involved an owl and a wolf, lightning and a car catching fire, if I remember correctly."

Sig reflected for a moment. "No, I can′t think of what I might have done to prevent it. Except to be more careful about where I deflected the lightning bolt. Keep it away from cars, my car."

"Your mother′s description could fit a troll, a mine kobold, or an ogre, not to mention big ugly men."

His life was troll-free, except for Dmitri, a half troll, and he didn′t fit the description. He had a fine head of hair. Nevertheless, he′d bear watching.

"What about another demon?"

"It could be a demon. Whoever is set against you has a habit of drawing on demons."

"Great, just what I need, another demon adversary."

"Goes with the territory when you′re a Battle Wizard. You fight against Dark Magic. Dark practitioners command demons. Didn′t your Great-grandfather tell you?"

"Yes, and so has Professor Herman. I just hoped that I′d find my magic before I have to face more demons."

"That′s still not going well?"

"No, I think Bjørn has more magic than I do."

"Dark practitioners aren′t going to give you a break because you don′t have all of your magic. Assume that you are going to have to defend yourself without it and make plans based on that assumption. If your magic appears, so much the better, but don′t count on it."

"Thanks, that′s good advice, except I hoped to wallow in self-pity for a while."

"I′m sure you were. It′s warm and cozy but not much use. I′ll drop off and let you and Meredith talk."

"I′m sorry I can′t be clearer."