Wizard Dawning (The Battle Wizard Saga, No. 1) (15 page)

"Oh! Sig!" She began to run, splashing into the water as she hurried around the shore.

"Careful Meredith! You don't know how quickly it falls off."

She veered away from the water and dropped to her knees next to Sig. He lay on his back with his eyes closed and lips parted. He hadn't moved since she called his name.

She placed her palm on his cheek and patted gently. "Sig." She called again.

No response, but his cheek felt warm. He didn't feel like a corpse. Relief flooded through her.

Grampa bent down and felt Sig's neck, at the jaw just under the ear. "His heart's still beating, slowly." He peeled open one of Sig's eyes. It stayed open when he let go.

Waving his hand past the eye several times evinced no response. "Damn, he's paralyzed."

"Like polio?"

"I don't think so." Grampa saw a small flask on the ground. He picked it up and sniffed it, and then he leaned forward and sniffed at Sig's parted lips.

He sat down next to Sig. "He had whatever is in this flask. It's not liquor. It smells . . . medicinal." He raised it again, waved his fingers in a complex pattern over it. Dark tendrils, like shadowy smoke rose from it and dissipated.

"It's a potion. Sig's not wearing the amulet so he lacks resistance to magic."

Meredith reached for the flask, sniffed it, and grimaced. "Not a very nice medicine smell. It smells like rotten herbs. What was the black smoke that rose from it?"

"You saw that?" His glance expressed surprise. "I commanded its essence to reveal itself, if it contained magic. What you saw indicated black magic. It should only be visible to those with magic."

She shrugged. "If it's a potion, can you make an antidote?"

"I can call on witches to help, but it's infused with black magic. None of the witches practice black magic. Even if they can reverse the effects, Sig will be in agony without Aðalbrandr. It has to remain within a reasonably close distance, or… I can tell you that the feeling of being parted from it is something I never want him to experience."

"What can we do?"

"Let me think."

She stood, glanced at the water, squinted, and flipped off her flashlight. "Grampa shut off your light for a moment."

He complied and darkness overcame them, except for a faint, almost nonexistent glow from the water.

Meredith pointed. "There's the glow we saw in your viewing."

She flicked on her flashlight, walked over to where she had seen it in the water, and turned the flashlight off. Moving along the bank, she positioned directly above the source of the light before she turned her light on and directed it into the still, clear water.

Several tries at positioning the flashlight relative to her eyes and the air-water barrier finally allowed her to see what caused the faint glow on the bottom.

"It looks like our camping torch down there."

Grampa walked over and shone his flashlight too. "Yes, it does. I didn't think the batteries would last that long. It's been what, about thirty hours?"

"Martin bought the longest lasting torch he could find. I'm glad he did. Without that glow, we may not have found Sig."

Suddenly the torch was very important, binding Martin, Sig and her.

Meredith played the flashlight around trying to get a sense of the depth of the water. It dropped off sharply a few feet from the bank.

"How deep do you think it is? Can we reach the torch?"

"It's hard to tell with really clear water, but I don't think you want to go in there. It's very cold."

She continued to move her light back and forth. "Could we use the rope and something like a hook…?"

Grampa continued to watch the movement of the light across the bottom as he thought about Sig's problem.

He snapped, "Wait, what was that? Move your light back."

"What was what?" She peered into the depths.

"That glint. There! Does that look like a sword or a cross?"

"Yes, yes it does. And a chain too."

"It might be Aðalbrandr." He glanced back at Sig. "If it is, that is our solution. We don't need any witches. We just need to put it on him. It will wash away the effects of the spell."

Meredith sat and removed her boots and socks, stood, stripped off her down jacket, shirt, and pulled her pants down. "Keep shining your light on it."

"Careful. The water's probably fifty degrees or less. It'll be a race against hypothermia."

She looked to Sig, and her resolution firmed. She stepped and slid into the water with a gasp.

Momentarily, she lost control of her body. Her muscles clenched, and her head and back arched. She'd never felt such cold.

Regaining control, she clenched her jaw against the shuddering that overcame her, and stroked underwater, toward the spot Grampa's light illuminated. Eyes open, she extended her arm until her hand clutched the chain. It tingled and warmed her hand. She started to thrust off from the bottom, but remembered the torch.

She redirected her thrust toward where she remembered it laying. Suddenly light illuminated it from above. She grabbed for it, but a shiver spasm made her miss. Grabbing again, she snared it and pushed off for the bank.

She felt her leg bang sharply against a rock crystal outcropping, but didn't register any pain. She was almost past registering anything.

At water's edge, she pitched the torch and amulet up, but could barely stand when violent convulsions overcame her.

She felt Grampa's hands grab her arms and drag her out of the water. He covered her with a jacket and started muttering and rubbing her feet and; at least she thought he was. She couldn't really feel them.

Then she felt glorious warmth pouring into her feet and running up her legs into her body. Her violent tremors abated and she groaned at the wonderful feeling of warmth.

The rubbing stopped. She turned to thank Grampa and saw him collapse at her feet.

Clambering to her knees, she winced at a pain in her thigh. A quick glance revealed that blood was welling from a long gash and starting to flow faster as feeling returned to her limbs. Worry about that later. It didn't look life threatening.

She crawled to Grampa and checked his vitals, as he did with Sig. She felt his heart beating. Relief washed over her. "Don't die on me, not now."

She pulled on her shirt and pants, picked up the medallion and chain, and limped over to Sig. Falling to her knees, she lifted his head and slipped the chain over with the other hand.

His eyes snapped open. "You bitch!" He grabbed Meredith's shirt, pulled her close, and his eyes widened. "Mom, what are you doing here?" He jerked his hand from her. "I'm sorry." His eyes darted around the cave. "Where is she?"

He grasped for the talisman hanging again from his throat and heaved a sigh. "It must have been a dream. I thought she threw this in the lake."

"No, it wasn't a dream. I need you to help me get Grampa out of here. He passed out." She gestured to where he lay partially illuminated by the dropped flashlight.

Sig looked confused as he glanced back and forth between her and Grampa. "I'd rather that it was a dream. This is too weird. Madeline was here and now you and Grampa are and he's unconscious."

"I'll explain it later, right now let's get home."

Meredith drove Grampa home in Sig's truck. After he loaded the backhoe, Sig drove Grampa's truck, pulling the trailer. Sig caught up just before they arrived home, in time to help Grampa. Although weak, Grampa managed, with Sig's support, to get inside and into bed.

Sig came back from helping him to find Mom still in the pickup, head and arms resting on the steering wheel.

He opened the driver's door. "Mom, are you okay? You were limping back there. Oh no, you're hurt!"

Her jeans were soaked with blood.

She looked up at him with drooping eyelids and quirked a smile. "And it hurts like a son-of-a-gun."

He started to help her out of the truck and then thought better. He grabbed his necklace and said, "Aðalbrandr." In his warrior form, he squatted and easily picked her up out of the seat. She groaned as he opened the passenger door and placed her in back the truck.

"Where are we going?"

"Hospital." He rumbled before he shut the door.

Before he got into the driver's side, he grabbed his talisman and muttered, "Koma Aftur".

"I don't need a hospital, just a bandage."

"What kind do you want? Would you rather have Scooby-Doo, or Sesame Street?"

"Not a Band-Aid."

"Hang on. We'll be there in about five minutes. Just relax and think about how you're going to get the blood out of my pickup seats."

Her head lolled against the window.

"Hey, don't fall asleep. Are you there?"

"I am."

"You can fall asleep at the hospital. Stay awake now. If you're conscious, I know you're alive."

"And I thought you wanted my brilliant conversation," she mumbled.

†††

He placed her into a wheel chair at the emergency room, dropped her purse in her lap, and wheeled the chair inside to fill out insurance forms. While they worked on her, he decided that a good strategy would to be unavailable to explain how she had been injured. Let her come up with a story abut how she cut her leg, without cutting through her pants.

He pleaded needing to tend a sick grandfather as an excuse to leave. As he thought about it, it probably wasn't a bad idea, so he went home to check on Grampa.

She wasn't ready until three hours later. Painkillers put her in a happy place, making her pain bearable. He learned that they administered a bag of Ringers saline solution to make up for blood loss and told him to keep her filled with fluids when she got home.

After he got Mom into bed and checked on Grampa, his mind was racing with questions but no one was awake to answer him. He sat down in Grampa's chair to think about his experience.

Light streaming into his eyes from the high windows woke Sig where he sat in Grampa' s chair. He checked on both his still sleeping patients.

The fry pans came out and he slapped bacon, sausage, and ham into the biggest one. Hash brown potatoes and chopped onions went into the next, after which he scrambled a dozen eggs with cheese and chopped Anaheim peppers.

It was a recovery breakfast meant to thicken blood, as well as waists.

It also kept him busy so he didn't dwell on how Madeline betrayed him.

Turning from the stove with a plate of fried meats, he found Grampa sitting at the table with fork, knife, and plate. "What can I do to help?"

Sig smiled in relief at the recovery signaled by Grampa's rekindled appetite. "How about a pot of coffee, and grab juice from the fridge? Thanks."

"I don't mind working for my breakfast. No thanks needed"

"Well thanks for coming to get me."

He stopped and gave Sig a level look. "No thanks needed for that, but you're welcome. Your mother braved water only a artic seal would to recover Aðalbrandr."

"She dove into the pool? I wondered how it got out of the water," he said as he fingered the medallion. "Is that how she cut her leg?"

"She cut her leg?"

"Yeah, a deep gash, it took twelve stitches to close it. You didn't know?"

"I don't remember much after using magic to keep her from freezing. I guess it took too much out of me. How is she?"

"She's asleep. I'm going to take her breakfast and another pain pill," Sig said as he loaded up a tray with food, coffee, and juice.

"Did you use magic to wake me up?"

"No, you were under the influence of a potion laced with black magic. I couldn't do anything, and then we saw Aðalbrandr at the bottom of the lake. The amulet was all we needed. It washed the potion away." Grampa looked up from under his eyebrows. "Try not to lose it again. Nothing good happens when you do," he said drily.

†††

Sig knocked on Mom's bedroom door. He pushed it open after receiving no response.

Setting the tray down on a corner of the king sized bed in which she slept alone now, he walked around and gently shook her shoulder. "Mom, wake up."

Her eyes widened and then squeezed shut as she grimaced and moaned, clutching at her leg.