by H. L. Burke
“Your father explained to me that he closed the rifts in order to avoid a potentially catastrophic loss of life.” Hovawart shuffled papers on his desk. “For what it’s worth, I believe him. I’m a good judge of character. I knew you were hiding something from our first interview at Spellsmith Manor, young Spellsmith, which is why I have been pursuing you so doggedly. Your father’s story rings with truth, though—” Hovawart gazed over the top of his glasses first at Auric then at Jericho, “—I suspect he may, in fact, be leaving a good deal out to protect those he cares for deeply.”
“If you believe him, then you know that the rifts had to close,” Jericho said. “A hard choice was made, but it was made to save lives, not to inconvenience the Republic’s magicians.”
“Also, with the introduction of Lotta—er—Miss Tyckner’s generators, is it even worth pursuing?” Auric leaned against Hovawart’s desk. “Those generators can lessen the need for magic, end the drought. Does this need to be brought to trial?”
Hovawart sighed. “The generators will lessen the blood-frenzy, but my peers in the Magicians’ Congress still want someone to pay for what happened. I can talk them down from imprisonment, but there must be consequences.”
“This is ridiculous! He’s an old man.” Jericho scowled. “Can’t you let him live out his days in peace?”
“Thank you for that, Jericho,” Hedward said dryly. “I didn’t come here expecting a full pardon. As of this morning, I have tendered my resignation with the Magicians’ Guild. I promise to no longer practice magic in a professional capacity … or even in my leisure time, if that is what it takes to appease the congress.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out his stylus, and laid it on the desk before Hovawart.
The thin rod of metal glistened coldly against the dark wood. Jericho’s throat tightened. He remembered the first time he saw that very stylus, flashing across a wooden quire to form a simple flare spell in his uncle’s carpentry shop. How he’d longed to get his hands on it, to test it and see if he could make magical energy obey his commands. He remembered the first time Master Spellsmith had passed it to him, coaching him through the symbols of a basic spell.
“This isn’t right,” Jericho heard himself say.
All eyes turned to him, but he stayed focused on Hedward. “Sir, that stylus is your right, your legacy. You shouldn’t have to give it up for something you didn’t—” His voice broke.
“Oh, Jericho, this stylus is not my legacy.” Hedward stood and put one hand on his son’s shoulder, the other on Jericho’s. “This is my legacy. It is a legacy that will pass through you and Rill to your children … and to Auric’s as well someday.”
Auric’s shoulders shook, and he embraced his father. Jericho stood back, too numb to speak.
“Yes, well …” Hovawart cleared his throat.
Hedward released his son and turned to face the inspector. “Is it not enough?”
“I can work with it, I suppose, but there is still the issue of your contract with the government. There needs to be a magician in Mountain’s Foot, as there is in every district of the Republic. If you are no longer practicing, it must be taken up by another.” Hovawart tapped his fingers on his desk. “Under normal circumstances, it would pass to your son, but my compatriots will call foul if a disgraced Spellsmith is replaced by another Spellsmith. It will seem merely a retirement, rather than a punishment.”
“I had thought of that. The private aspects of my practice, the business with the guilds and the local merchants, are not covered by the contract. Auric can easily make a living with those. I am therefore suggesting that my contract is renewed in the name of a different magician: one Jericho Carver.”
Jericho nearly swallowed his tongue.
“That will work.” Hovawart signed a document, pushed it aside, and stood. “I’ll get everything seen to on my end. It will be easier for me if all of you leave the Capital for the time being. It will be less work to convince the Congress to accept this lesser punishment if you are already out of their reach in the relative obscurity of Mountain’s Foot. In fact, I would suggest you depart as soon as humanly possible.”
“Gladly!” Jericho found his voice.
Hovawart crossed to the door and waved them out. Hedward went first. When Auric and Jericho tried to follow, Hovawart stepped in front of them. “You are two lucky idiots. Don’t waste it, all right? I don’t want to see you again. Ever.”
“Yes, sir,” Jericho and Auric said.
They strode out of the office and down the hall into the main lobby. In the middle of the bustling space stood Rill. Her chest rose and fell in a visible sigh when they emerged from the back.
Jericho rushed to her. He pulled her into an embrace, savoring the feel of her body against his. Ignoring those around them, he kissed her.
“Thank God they let you out,” she whispered. “But how? Father wouldn’t tell me what was going on, only that he’d get you both free.”
“I’ll explain later, I promise.” Jericho brushed his lips across her forehead, savoring the scent of her hair. “Now I just want to go home.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Auric fiddled with his stylus in the foyer of Styles Manor. It had felt odd staying in Cordon’s home after the arrest, even for a night, but as Rill had pointed out, it didn’t make sense to arrange other accommodations. No one was using it with Styles incarcerated.
Rill leaned into Jericho, her eyes half closed, a blissful smile on her face. In turn he kept a vice-like grip around her waist, his hand sometimes stroking her belly as if caressing the child within. They’d been like that since Jericho and Auric’s release the day before. Auric had half-heartedly told Jericho, “Don’t fondle my sister like that,” but his heart wasn’t in it.
No, Auric’s heart felt strangely empty.
Father strode downstairs, Jaspyr frisking at his heels. “I think we have everything packed up. Do you want me to have your trunk sent ahead, Rill?”
Jaspyr abandoned Father and bounced up and down next to Rill and Jericho. Rill scooped up her pet and rubbed his metal ears. “I suppose. How long until we have to be at the train station?”
“At least an hour, but I’m getting anxious lingering here.” Hedward sighed. “I wish we could start now. Your mother will be eager to hear what happened … and also to start decorating the nursery.” He winked at his daughter.
Rill flushed. “Dad, you promised we weren’t going to fuss over that until closer to the due date, remember? Maybe we should leave now anyway. I saw a tea shop across from the train station last time we were there. We could have one last cup while we wait for our train. It’ll be nice. Let me go get my hat.” Rill hurried back up the stairs, Hedward at her heels and Jaspyr in her arms.
Jericho approached Auric. “You all right?”
Auric started. “Yes. Of course. Never better—Why? Do I not look all right?”
Jericho placed his hand over his mouth, obviously hiding a smirk.
Auric glared. “What?”
“You haven’t tried to see her yet, have you? We’re leaving in an hour, and you haven’t so much as sent her a note?”
Heat flared beneath Auric’s skin. “Why would I?”
“Auric, the first thing you did after nearly dying was to look Lotta in the eye and tell her she was beautiful. You’ve been dancing around it since you met her. Just tell her you like her. Worst case scenario: she doesn’t care much for you, she says so, you move on. Best case … well, I bet your imagination can fill in the blanks.”
Auric angled away. “It’s not the right time. We have to leave the Capital, and her career is just now taking off. She’s going to be in charge of setting up the generators throughout the city. I can’t expect her to put that aside. Anyway, I’m all but legally bound to return to Mountain’s Foot.”
Jericho snorted. “I’m not saying propose to her. I’m saying tell her you like her.”
“It’s simply not the right thing to do.” Auric shook his head. “I have ot
her responsibilities. With Father agreeing not to do magic, the shop is our business, and you and Rill have a kid on the way … I have other things to worry about than whether I like a pretty … intelligent, intriguing young woman.” He indulged in a drawn out sigh, remembering her glowing skin and luscious curls.
“Uh-huh. Auric, do you know what I thought of you when we first met?”
“Not really, I guess.” Auric strode over to an upholstered bench against the far wall and sat down. Jericho stood over him.
“I thought you were a spoiled brat who only cared about himself,” he said.
Auric raised an eyebrow. “Thought as in past tense, right?”
“Yes, because that’s not who you are anymore. In the last several months, you’ve grown. Yes, you’re still a little impulsive and prideful—”
“And you’re still infuriating.” Auric scoffed.
Jericho held up a hand. “I’ll own that, but listen to what I’m saying, please?”
Auric subsided.
“You’ve stopped putting yourself first, and you’ve put your father first, Rill first, me first—to the point where you almost died for me.” Jericho sat beside his friend. “I’m not forgetting that you did that, by the way, and I’m going to make it up to you.”
“It was nothing.” Auric dropped his gaze.
“It was everything, but right now, with Lotta, you need to give yourself permission to put yourself first. I’ve been there. I know what it’s like: you’re not just afraid of rejection, you’re afraid you’ll hurt her, and you might, or she might hurt you, but please, Auric, you are going to hate yourself if you get on that train without so much as saying good-bye.”
Auric closed his eyes, but couldn’t block out the memory of Lotta’s face. Still, they were leaving in less than an hour now. He’d probably never see her again after today … but if he was never going to see her again, what did he have to lose?
He bolted up. “Do you know where I can find her?”
Jericho passed him a piece of paper. “When Ezra came by to pick up her luggage, he left this address. Meet us at the station when you’re done and try not to be late.”
Auric sprinted out the door.
Hailing a cab, he sat silently through an all-too-short carriage ride, going over possible things to say to her, possible things she might say back, the chance she might slap him, laugh in his face, stare at him with that peculiar blank look she got sometimes as if he were a machine that was not quite functioning properly.
By the time the cab pulled to a stop in front of Lotta’s place of business, Auric had almost convinced himself to go home. Then the cabby requested his fare, and Auric found himself paying and exiting the cab rather than requesting an immediate return trip.
The address proved to be the same workshop he’d met Lotta at earlier: her father’s workshop. Now, however, the place was alive with men and women bustling in and out, the clamor of voices, and the clack of machines. Ezra stood in the doorway, puffing a pipe. He smiled when Auric approached.
“Well, hello there. I thought you’d left.”
Auric shook his head. “Not yet. Soon, though, within the hour in fact. It’s just before I go I wanted—you see—” He stopped and loosened his collar.
Ezra grinned and motioned with his pipe towards the backroom. “She’s in there.”
Auric mumbled his thanks and hurried through the packs of workers into the back room.
Lotta buried her face in a schematic, ignoring two men in suits who stood before her.
The first suit spoke, “But if we go with the lower grade—”
“No, we can’t compromise on materials.” She tapped her toe.
“But the price—” the second man began.
“Damn the price!” Lotta stamped her foot. “It’s my name on this project. If all the generators fall apart because we used cheap metal, you aren’t the one ruined. We use the materials in the original plans, nothing else.”
“Yes, Miss Tyckner.” The men bowed their heads and departed.
Auric smiled. “You’re certainly not as shy anymore.”
She whirled about and stared at him. “Auric. You’re still here?”
Her expression was typically blank, so he simply nodded.
“I’m leaving soon, but I wanted to say farewell. I hadn’t seen you since that night in the tunnels.”
“I’ve been tied up.” She waved, indicating the workshop filled with workers, crates, and scattered generator parts. Her hand then strayed to her neck, touching a golden chain which disappeared under her collar. Was she wearing his gift?
“Yes, I can see that. And taking command, too.” He forced a confident chuckle. “Hard to believe you’re the same girl who told me she couldn’t talk to people.”
She dropped her eyes. “I still don’t like it, but I started trying that trick you suggested, and it works.”
“What trick?” He frowned.
“I imagine they have your face. It makes them seem friendlier, approachable.” She shrugged.
His heart flopped at the thought of his face involved with her day-to-day affairs.
“That’s … good. I’m glad it works for you.” He stepped closer. Across the room, a large clock hung from the wall. Not much time left until he needed to be at the station.
“Did you need something from me?” she asked.
The answer to that question proved surprisingly complicated, so he said, “No.”
They stood, an awkward, silent bubble amidst the hubbub of a working machinist shop.
He let out a long breath. “I suppose I should go. I just came to say good-bye, and that’s done.” He started to turn away.
“I haven’t said thank you,” she said quickly.
He froze.
“For all this,” she explained. “It wouldn’t have been possible without your help.”
“It was nothing.” His hand strayed towards his once again tight collar, but he stopped himself.
“No, it was something. I’m not good with … people things, but even I know it was something.” She stepped closer and touched his hand. “Is that all you wanted to say? It seems like you came a long way just to say two words: good and bye.”
There were a lot of words he wanted to say, but they all seemed foolish when faced with her serious expression. Still, this was his last chance. “I just thought I’d … I mean … If you could … if you …” The heat in his chest exploded into a rush of words. “Lotta, if you wouldn’t mind, could you please try not to forget me.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Forget you?”
“Yes, you see, I’m going back home, and I know you have to stay here to oversee the generators, so chances are, this is the last we’ll see of each other for quite some time.” He cleared his throat. “If you could just promise, though, not to forget me, maybe we could write, exchange letters, and maybe when your project is finished or when the political pressure has shifted from myself and my father, maybe we could see each other again.”
She tilted her head, that strange expression on her face again, mouth slightly open, eyes puzzled, nose scrunched. Part him wanted to take off running, and the other part wanted desperately to kiss her. Somehow he got both parts under control and returned her stare.
“I’d like that. To see you again,” she said.
His shoulders relaxed. “Really?”
She nodded. “For one thing, you said you’d help me make a metal pet, and you haven’t yet. For another, well, I guess I rather like you.”
“I like you, too.” Pulse throbbing, he eased closer to her, until inches separated them. “Also, I’d very much like to kiss you right now. If that would be all right?”
“It would,” she whispered.
He pressed his lips to her. Warmth flowed through him, melting him right down to the bones.
She giggled. “Your beard tickles.”
“Oh.” He pulled away slightly. “I suppose I could shave?”
“No. I think I like it.” She
reached up and ran her fingers through the hair on his chin. His face tingled at her touch. She leaned in for another kiss, this one longer. His arms slipped about her waist, pulling her tightly against him.
Lotta gave a barely perceptible sigh. “No, I won’t forget you.”
“Good,” he whispered.
The End
Spellsmith and Carver will return in
Spellsmith & Carver: Magicians' Reckoning
Auric Spellsmith and Jericho Carver forged a friendship through fire. Now they face a new enemy: a being from the Fey Realms who threatens their friendship as well as the life of one they both love.
The loss of his father leaves Auric reeling even as Jericho and his wife Rill are overwhelmed by the arrival of twins. When a mysterious Fey begins abducting local children, Spellsmith and Carver prepare for a full-on assault.
An attack close to home drives a sudden wedge between Jericho and Rill. With his friend's heart and confidence shattered, Auric steps up to defend their fractured family. Time's running out to save the stolen children, and the family must rally together to stop the Fey predator.
But the cost might be Rill's very soul.
ABOUT H. L. Burke
Born in a small town in north central Oregon, H. L. Burke spent most of her childhood around trees and farm animals and always accompanied by a book. Growing up with epic heroes from Middle Earth and Narnia keeping her company, she also became an incurable romantic.
An addictive personality, she jumped from one fandom to another, being at times completely obsessed with various books, movies, or television series (Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, and Star Trek all took their turns), but she has grown to be what she considers a well-rounded connoisseur of geek culture.
Married to her high school crush who is now a US Marine, she has moved multiple times in her adult life but believes home is wherever her husband, two daughters, and pets are.
