his scrying glass across the room to smash into the bookshelf. The frame deformed and sprang half way back toward him as the lens shattered. He stepped forward before the frame landed. His foot slapped at it like a soccer forward launching a cross field pass.
Following a choked curse, he limped back and collapsed into the seat behind the intricately carved heavy oak desk. He lifted the kicking foot onto his lap and began to rub it while a thunderous scowl took over his expression.
"He was at school today. I'd have to guess that your grand plan didn't succeed," the witch said with a smirk.
The Dark Mage snarled, "Seventeen zombies destroyed. It took almost a year to raise that many to sentience. Their parts now lay in muck at the bottom of a frozen Minnesota lake. A year's work for naught."
"Seventeen zombies couldn't finish a high school boy? Did you use the proper spells? Perhaps you erred in performing the animation incantation."
"There was nothing wrong with the spell," the Mage roared. He paused, tight lipped. His nostrils flared to inhale a deep breath. The foot rubbing continued through a shuddering exhalation.
After another deep breath he growled, "Who could expect his great-grandfather would show up the very day I set loose my pack of living dead? Zombies enough for a seventeen year old boy are child's play for a Battle Wizard. Even one near to death."
"Now I suppose that I will have to take care of what you and your zombies couldn't," the witch sneered.
He affixed her with a baleful stare. Her head turned down. Perhaps she had gone too far.
"You came to me, witch. If you hope to learn to bind a Djinn or Marid demon to your commands, yes you will take care of the boy," the Mage whispered.
The witch hissed. "I gave you the spell to cloak a demon while it attacks. It is because of me the Battle Wizard is dying. You owe me the binding spell."
Teeth drew back in a rictus of a smile before the Mage said, "My dear, you were to help me destroy him. Instead he passed the talisman on. We now have a new Battle Wizard to defeat."
"The boy is now a Battle Wizard? I want no part of that."
The Mage seemed to puff up. "Thanks to my planning and the spell cast years ago when he was a child, the boy is a shadow of what he should be. He can transform, he will heal, he is impervious to most magic; but his powers are limited to what he can do inside his body. He can't cast spells, no fireballs, he can't summon lightning, or hurl cask quantities of water. He can't use a scrying glass, of even light a candle. Don't fear. He won't use any of his Wizard's power on you."
"But he can still assume Battle Wizard form and my spells and potions are useless on him. I'm no match for that," the witch said, shaking her head.
"That is because of his talisman. Remove it and he's just a seventeen year old boy," the Mage said with an arched eyebrow. "Use that feminine glamour you wear and are so inordinately proud of."
"This isn't a glamour. This is what I am."
"You claim to be centuries old. How can you have that appearance without a spell to make it so?"
"I discovered another spell to steal the youth of others. You don't think I hang out with teenage girls for the conversation do you?" She said mimicking his arched eyebrow. "If my friends start to look old at an early age, I just look for new friends . . . fresher friends."
"I hadn't really thought about it. You seem as one with them." He fashioned a crooked smile as if it pained him.
She glowered at him. "You fancy yourself as the expert on all things magical. How does the amulet make him resilient to magic?"
"That was lost over a thousand years ago. Its maker took his secret to the grave. I need to study the amulet to discover what it hides. That's why I sought your help."
"My help comes at a price."
"When he is taken care of I'll teach you the summoning and binding spell."
She walked to the desk and picked up the dagger he used to open letters. "Blood swear."
He hesitated
Following a choked curse, he limped back and collapsed into the seat behind the intricately carved heavy oak desk. He lifted the kicking foot onto his lap and began to rub it while a thunderous scowl took over his expression.
"He was at school today. I'd have to guess that your grand plan didn't succeed," the witch said with a smirk.
The Dark Mage snarled, "Seventeen zombies destroyed. It took almost a year to raise that many to sentience. Their parts now lay in muck at the bottom of a frozen Minnesota lake. A year's work for naught."
"Seventeen zombies couldn't finish a high school boy? Did you use the proper spells? Perhaps you erred in performing the animation incantation."
"There was nothing wrong with the spell," the Mage roared. He paused, tight lipped. His nostrils flared to inhale a deep breath. The foot rubbing continued through a shuddering exhalation.
After another deep breath he growled, "Who could expect his great-grandfather would show up the very day I set loose my pack of living dead? Zombies enough for a seventeen year old boy are child's play for a Battle Wizard. Even one near to death."
"Now I suppose that I will have to take care of what you and your zombies couldn't," the witch sneered.
He affixed her with a baleful stare. Her head turned down. Perhaps she had gone too far.
"You came to me, witch. If you hope to learn to bind a Djinn or Marid demon to your commands, yes you will take care of the boy," the Mage whispered.
The witch hissed. "I gave you the spell to cloak a demon while it attacks. It is because of me the Battle Wizard is dying. You owe me the binding spell."
Teeth drew back in a rictus of a smile before the Mage said, "My dear, you were to help me destroy him. Instead he passed the talisman on. We now have a new Battle Wizard to defeat."
"The boy is now a Battle Wizard? I want no part of that."
The Mage seemed to puff up. "Thanks to my planning and the spell cast years ago when he was a child, the boy is a shadow of what he should be. He can transform, he will heal, he is impervious to most magic; but his powers are limited to what he can do inside his body. He can't cast spells, no fireballs, he can't summon lightning, or hurl cask quantities of water. He can't use a scrying glass, of even light a candle. Don't fear. He won't use any of his Wizard's power on you."
"But he can still assume Battle Wizard form and my spells and potions are useless on him. I'm no match for that," the witch said, shaking her head.
"That is because of his talisman. Remove it and he's just a seventeen year old boy," the Mage said with an arched eyebrow. "Use that feminine glamour you wear and are so inordinately proud of."
"This isn't a glamour. This is what I am."
"You claim to be centuries old. How can you have that appearance without a spell to make it so?"
"I discovered another spell to steal the youth of others. You don't think I hang out with teenage girls for the conversation do you?" She said mimicking his arched eyebrow. "If my friends start to look old at an early age, I just look for new friends . . . fresher friends."
"I hadn't really thought about it. You seem as one with them." He fashioned a crooked smile as if it pained him.
She glowered at him. "You fancy yourself as the expert on all things magical. How does the amulet make him resilient to magic?"
"That was lost over a thousand years ago. Its maker took his secret to the grave. I need to study the amulet to discover what it hides. That's why I sought your help."
"My help comes at a price."
"When he is taken care of I'll teach you the summoning and binding spell."
She walked to the desk and picked up the dagger he used to open letters. "Blood swear."
He hesitated
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