Sorcerer's Vendetta (The Secret of Zanalon) Read online

  And then stretched more. She peeked back through her arms, holding her breath.

  In the middle of her cozy home stood a violently beautiful statue, a man with furling cloak and sword in mid-swing, determined vengeance engraved on his handsome face.

  Trembling, she dropped her hands, slapped palms against her thin, robed thighs. She released her breath in an exasperated sigh and dropped her head, her shoulders stooped more than usual. "Oh, 'ell, I am sorry, old man." Her eyes drew slowly back to his face.

  "Methinks I shan't be getting my body renewed, eh?"

  Chapter 2 – DISCOVERY

  Dr. Rachel Floyd was quite surprised and pleased when she received a package in the mail from England. Inside the shipping box was a meticulously wrapped book, along with a hand-written note.

  I enjoyed your book and I'd love to hear what you think of my latest.

  Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

  It was an advance copy of King Arthur Undone: Art of the Age of Camelot by Dr. Rollin Ambrose. She flipped to the back, intrigued. The back cover read: “Dr. Rollin Ambrose is the author of 'Grace and Beauty in the Dark: Early Middle Age Stonework' and 'Camelot Carvings: Art to Inspire the King of the Round Table.' He lives near London, England and is a professor of art history at Cambridge University.” He had written a more personal message inside the front cover.

  May the future hold as much fascination and excitement for you as we both derive from the past. With great respect and admiration,

  Rollin Ambrose

  January 6th, 2010

  Dear Dr. Rollin Ambrose:

  Thank you so much for the book! I am honored to have the privilege of reading it first, before it even goes to press. I have been following your work for some time and I have to tell you, I am thrilled to find a colleague who shares so many of my views. As you no doubt know, I have focused much of my energy on the artwork of the ancient cultures in North and South America so far but I find it quite an interesting coincidence that you sent me your book. You have no way of knowing this, but I have always had a dream of doing more work in Europe, particularly with your specialty, the artwork of your homeland from the 1st Century to the 7th. Your writing is such a pleasure to read also -- your voice comes through so clearly with that distinctive touch of humor that makes even what some of my less inspired students would insist were the driest details interesting.

  Obviously you are familiar with my book, “Art from the Shadows: the Mystical Mind of the Mayan Revealed” – I would love to hear more of your thoughts on it. Of course, we diverge in some interests, as I also specialize in the languages of the ancient peoples while you are more proficient in your evaluation of sculpture than I, but I would be honored to hear your expert opinion in more detail.

  I hope I am not overreaching to suggest that we might join forces on a project in your region? I have been saving up for a trip for some time and my publisher is waiting for my latest book proposal. Perhaps they will be willing to offer a more generous advance, especially if you would be interested in co-writing this project?

  Enclosed is a copy of my book proposal, which I trust you will keep in confidence if you find this project does not suit you. If you are interested, please feel free to tweak it and add your own touch. I look forward to hearing from you and I hope that the future will find us working more closely.

  Respectfully yours,

  Dr. Rachel Floyd

  Rachel waited for an answer with her fingers crossed, hoping she had taken the right tone with this somewhat mysterious Englishman. She was thrilled that he had contacted her, even as she had been preparing her proposal with an eye to approaching him. She had done a bit of research on the internet on him before sending her proposal and found that he was quite an elusive creature – no photos of him anywhere, no Facebook or website blogs. It wasn't that much of a surprise that there was no picture of him on the jacket of his book, considering the publisher – it was a quite prestigious British house and the type of work that was expected to stand entirely on its intellectual merit, not the hype of an already famous or highly charismatic author – but when it came to an internet presence, everything on him was second-hand, as if he were some mythological creature whose existence was only suspected and never confirmed.

  She was not disappointed when she found his answer three weeks later, on her desk. She nearly whooped with glee when she saw the thicker envelope, knowing he had accepted and offered his revisions. Opening it, she found it was a hand written cover letter on University stationary along with a hard copy of the revised proposal.

  Dr. Rollin Ambrose had a flowing, almost calligraphic hand throughout his letter, not just in the note in his book, autographed for posterity.

  January 25th, 2010

  Dear Dr. Rachel Floyd:

  I have your letter and proposal in hand and I have to say, I am quite flattered that you took the time to write me a real missive, not just zip off an e-mail with an attachment as my students are so fond of doing.

  As for your book, I do, indeed, find it to be fascinating and well-thought out. I would be more than honored to work with you on your next project and therefore I will save my more detailed observations on your past accomplishments for meeting you in person, where you may also more fully enjoy my dry wit. That is, of course, if you can tolerate my computer intolerance and will continue to show appreciation for my brilliance and my sense of humor...

  I hope you approve of my additions to the proposal but if not, tough. It's on paper.

  No, seriously, feel free to share your editorial notes as well to the attachment my assistant is sending by e-mail. And please, my dear colleague and co-author, feel free to call me Rollin.

  Humbly yours,

  Rollin

  Rachel grinned as she tucked the letter back into the envelope and into her briefcase with the copy of hers. She was glad he had responded with the same light tone that he showed in his books and had in a sense given her permission to drop her professorial style and take a friendlier tack. Unable to resist a little comparison, she pried up the manila envelope from him and peered critically at her letter, which, as she scanned it now, seemed so dry compared to his. It was like a stick figure representation of her holding up a curriculum vitae soaked in fawning flattery. He hadn't seemed to mind, however. After all, he had contacted her first. That was something she still found amazing, not only because of her deep respect for his work, but because she had been considering contacting him even as he was reaching out to her.

  She snapped her case shut and checked her reflection in the mirror behind her office door, growling impatiently at a stray curl too soon escaping from her attempt at a french braid. Apparently, she had inherited the curly texture of her hair from her maternal great-great-grandmother. According to her cousin, the geneology buff of the family, she had been a former slave in Louisiana. Fortunately, her dark hair was actually softer than it looked, but it still looked wild. Her skin, at least, was responding well to a suggestion from a friend – baking soda scrub to exfoliate cheaply and effectively. She wasn't much for shopping for expensive makeups and skin treatments, so this simple solution appealed to her.

  With a jab at her glasses to set them back on her nose and her usual graceful flair, she knocked a pile of magazines off of the table by the door on her way out and then headed across campus to grab a bite before her next class.

  Rollin ... Hmm ... Well, my dear colleague and co-author, I hope I will have some good news to pass on in my next letter, such as the acceptance of our book proposal and a generous enough advance to get me across the ocean to meet you.

  As it turned out, she did. Her next letter she took the time to hand write as neatly as possible.

  February 15th, 2010

  Dear Rollin,

  Thank you so much for your support and encouragement! I was completely satisfied with your additions and sent the revised proposal out promptly as it was. I was especially grateful and impressed by your understanding and expansion of the co
mpetitive market information. To be honest, I despise marketing and anything to do with it, so I was overjoyed to find you had fleshed that portion of the proposal out for me so well.

  Apparently so was the editor at Sunrise House. I have great news! Our book proposal was picked up by this generous publisher and I will be free to travel this summer. My new agent will be sending your half of the advance shortly.

  I am sure I can tolerate your techno-intolerance as long as you continue to be funny, brilliant, and can pull off a decent fake laugh when I attempt humor. Maybe your humor will even rub off?

  Summer seems like a long time to wait, now. In the meantime, perhaps you could tell me more about yourself? Your family? Friends and hobbies? You have my curiosity piqued – there is very little out there on the internet about you and all it said on the back cover of the book you sent me was just the basic listing of your former works and a fuzzy indication that you live somewhere.

  I look forward to your next letter.

  Sincerely yours,

  Rachel

  February 19th, 2010

  Dear Rachel,

  I was very pleased to get your last letter – hand written, even. Your script is revealing. Nice hand.

  I am seriously impressed. You have taken a few steps into my lair. Fear not, you are welcome and I don't bite. Often.

  As for my family, I have a wonderful relationship with my mother and father, who live in the twisting crazy madness of London proper where I dare not tread. I am an only child and I prefer to stay in the cool shade of the deep woods where I live alone in a comfortable, Earth-friendly bermed cottage. No heating or air conditioning, no rattle and hum. There is a stream that runs through my property a little ways from my humble abode and I run a mill through that for my power supply, but I find I often go with candles and keep myself on a natural schedule anyway.

  My parents are happy to visit me, with notice, but I have to be roped, bound and dragged to make a trip to London. You gather that I don't care for cities, much?

  And friends ... I believe I'll save that for the next letter, if you don't mind. I have some papers to grade, as I'm sure you understand. And you, Rachel? Tell me about yourself.

  Yours truly,

  Rollin

  P.S. Actually, there are a couple of pictures of me out on the internet – my assistant brought them to my attention in full color printouts accompanied by a Cheshire grin. More about that in my “friends” missive.

  P.P.S. Ah, please don't get the wrong idea. No naughty bits, I assure you. I know that isn't all that goes on on the internet, but all I really know is that it IS a beast I'd rather not get into a cage with. Especially not with anything exposed.

  Rollin was a bit of a cartoonist as well, it appeared. He had drawn a quick sketch of a skinny, naked man, desperately trying to cover himself with his hands, his knees knocking and a horrendous grimace on his face. In the cage with him was something that looked like a lion with a computer monitor for a face, swiping at him with a huge paw.

  February 23rd, 2010

  Dear Rollin,

  Love the sketch! Yes, when you put it so vividly, I can't agree more on the safe handling of the internet. I enjoy it myself, but I can see what you mean.

  You are so blessed to have a good relationship with your parents. I'm still working on that one, especially with my father. I don't see my mother much and neither does my father -- they are separated. I hope you appreciate that to have your parents together is a real treasure.

  I have a brother, older than I am, who left home when he turned fifteen. I don't hear from him much. The last I heard, he is in a serious relationship but not married yet so no nephews or nieces.

  I'm not married either, though I nearly let myself get talked into something that would have been a disaster, I realize now. I am happy to have my career here and I seriously doubt I could have managed it if I had married. He had absolutely no interest in art history. What was I thinking? Can you imagine?

  We seem to be on the same page when it comes to living in harmony with the Earth. I love your description of your place. I have a wonderful little passive solar/solar electric house in New Mexico where I go to write and renew, up in the high mountain desert, in the summertime and on my breaks. I live on campus with a roommate while school is in. I enjoy my social life here but it is wonderful to have my alone time too, for writing.

  My work heretofore has been popular in this area but that may change with this new direction. I am open to new possibilities and very excited about coming to England to start this project and to meet you!

  Your turn... Friends? Do I find those shots of you through them – a little candid capture of you on Facebook, perhaps?

  Yours,

  Rachel

  February 27th, 2010

  Dear Rachel,

  You are going to have to stop stroking my British comedic ego, my friend, I'll be destroyed when my head explodes. No, really, don't stop. If I have to go that's one way I'd choose. You know how we Brits love to blow things up. Damn the Chinese for beating us to gunpowder. Of course when they made it, it was initially for fireworks instead of to blow each other to bits, which would have been the first thing we would have thought of. Especially when eying the lands of those beastly people who don't have flags.

  Yes, my friends caught me on camera. Somewhat. My assistant will be absolutely gleeful to have someone to guide to the demise of my dignity. Just backtrack that e-mail address where she attached the proposal file and I will be here doing the “facepalm” thing, as my students like to text.

  I have some interesting news for you that could possibly be a great boon for our project. I will do a little advance work on it – I wouldn't want to get your hopes up if it turns out to be a fake. One of the grand matrons of art here claims to have discovered a statue on her property from around the 6th century.

  I've already told her that I will not be available to investigate this find until spring break, so we have a little more time to work on other aspects of the book in the meantime. I'll let you know more about this as soon as I know more.

  Yours truly,

  Rollin

  Rachel, curious, did follow up on the e-mail trail. His assistant was quite friendly, very pleased to lead her to the Facebook pages of his friends who had tagged him in their photos.

  She was pleased and disappointed at the same time when this little scavenger hunt only led to a couple of Facebook pages of his students and fellow professors, with a couple of shots of crowds from a rugby match. The shots had Rollin sitting on the outside edge of the bleachers from the back in one and from the side on the other, his head turned away. He appeared to be in good shape, fairly young, with long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, but she could not see his face. The last one was directly of him, sitting on a blanket in a different park. Dressed in jeans and a casual light shirt, he had blocked the camera with his hand. He was not holding his hand over his face but up to try to block the shot completely, only partially succeeding. His body was visible but one finger in the foreshortened perspective went right across his face. His hair was loose in this shot, falling nearly mid-chest. There was a cup in his other hand. Apparently he did not like the idea of pictures of himself in casual mode, drinking no less, going out on the internet. Fairly wise – those things had a tendency to come back and bite one in the posterior, especially for professionals. Professors in ponytails were no big deal but with a little imagination from a nasty rival, he could be torpedoed if not careful.

  She could imagine him chuckling at her chagrin, her curiosity still unsatisfied. Rachel smiled wryly, looking at the pictures. Somehow the partially revealing nature of the shots had her even more intrigued.

  And then she found herself back in her campus apartment, looking at her own body in a full length mirror, chewing her lip. She had been getting slack with the self care and she had about twenty-five pounds to lose. One thing she could tell from his pictures was that he was in good condition.

  I s
till have time to get back in shape... It would be June before she would be leaving for England, and it was only the beginning of March. And that's when she knew she had begun to look at him a little differently than as just a friendly colleague.

  Chapter 3 – RELEASED

  Rollin trudged alongside the auburn-haired beauty as if he were walking along the streets of London instead of delving deeper into old woods shrouded in late-afternoon mist. For him, that meant he was becoming increasingly nervous and unsure, but he was doing his best not to let it show. There was an overwhelming sense of deja vu' coming over and over him in waves. When he dropped his gaze that only increased his focus on the feelings that were stirring in his belly – this strange, tugging tension – so he looked back at the Lady Morgan and tried to maintain his demeanor of calm.

  She glanced at him, smiled, and touched his arm. "You are excited, aren't you?" she purred. "You won't be disappointed."

  He gave her a double-take. Was she flirting? Just as quickly, he dismissed the thought, replacing it again with his more immediate concern. Apparently he wasn't succeeding in hiding anything from her.

  Still, Rollin couldn't contain a sense of excitement and discovery, in spite of his suspicions about the "find" the Lady Morgan had contacted him to evaluate. He had to be careful though. Often, he was told he looked younger than the years he claimed, which was not a bonus in his profession. He had come a long way in spite of that toward gaining the respect of his art historian peers and he didn't relish the thought of endangering the reputation he had fought so hard to establish without cause. Lady Morgan was a long-standing matron of the arts, not a woman to be taken lightly either, however eccentric. He glanced at her beside him, flowing along in an outfit more suited to a dancer or a gypsy than a woman of her standing in the arts community. Questions arose in his mind and he bit his lip, considering his stance with a healthy skepticism. Still, if this statue were truly from the 6th century and in the flawless condition that it appeared to be from the photographs she had sent, it would be like no other in the history of his profession. And yet it was that flawless condition that threw so much doubt on its validity.