by H. L. Burke
Spellsmith & Carver
Magicians’ Reckoning
H. L. Burke
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Copyright © 2017 H. L. Burke
All rights reserved.
Cover Design: Jennifer White
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter One
April rain pattered against the windows of the candlelit room. Jericho Carver bent over in his chair, aching head in his hands, straining to hear anything from the room across the hall. The door had been shut for hours, opening occasionally for Jericho’s mother-in-law, Iris, to peek out and say, “Nothing yet, but she’s doing fine. It can take a while, especially with the first.”
Jericho, his father-in-law Hedward Spellsmith, and brother-in-law Auric sat in a solemn half circle in front of the upstairs parlor’s fireplace. Auric twirled his stylus, a metal rod used in his profession as a magician, between his fingers like a tiny baton. Ignoring his friend’s fidgeting, Jericho shut his eyes.
The clock on the mantel chimed midnight. Numbers flew through his head. It had been right after breakfast when Rill finally gave up her “I’m sure it’s only more false labor” bravado and admitted they needed to call the midwife. The midwife had arrived an agonizing two hours after that. Then … nothing. Sporadic reports from Iris or the midwife going in and out with towels and bedding, but no word from Rill, and definitely no sign of an actual baby.
Hedward had casually mentioned that Auric’s birth had taken almost two full days. If that happened now, Jericho was pretty sure he’d be dead by then of stress and exhaustion … and if that was him, what was it doing to poor Rill?
“It’s going to be all right, son.”
Jericho looked up at Hedward’s words.
“When was the last time you ate or drank anything?”
Jericho shrugged. “Breakfast, I guess.”
The older man nodded to Auric, who thoughtfully stroked his red-gold beard. “Would you go down to the kitchen? I suspect Annie is still up, waiting to hear word of the new arrival, but if not just grab whatever she has lying about the pantry—and maybe a bottle of sherry and some tumblers. I suspect we’ll be wanting to toast before the night’s over.”
His usually bright blue eyes a touch blurry, Auric moseyed off to do his father’s bidding.
Jericho sighed and stood to stretch his long legs. He rubbed his chin with the back of his hand, the bristles scratching his skin.
I’m not ready for this. There’s no way I’ll be a good father. I have no idea what I’m doing. Dear Lord, why did You trust me with this?
A hand clapped down on Jericho’s shoulder, and he jumped.
“Calm down.” Hedward chuckled.
At six feet, six inches tall, Jericho towered over the other residents of Spellsmith Manor, Hedward included. That had never stopped Jericho from looking up to the man, who had taken Jericho in as his apprentice in the magic trade over half a decade before. Marrying Hedward’s daughter had only deepened Jericho’s respect for him. The thought that Hedward would be there soothed his ragged nerves. At least he’d have someone to go to for advice. I’m not facing this alone.
Hedward eased into an armchair. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Jericho leaned against the wall, the cool wood paneling easing the tension in his muscles. He struggled to put the conflicting thoughts and emotions into some sort of words. “Is it awful that I’m not over-the-moon happy right now, sir? I mean, I want this baby, I swear, but for some reason, I feel like someone’s tied a millstone around my neck and is shoving me towards a river.”
A sad smile played across Hedward’s lips. “It’s natural. Your life’s about the change.”
Jericho pushed his fingers through his dark hair. “I want to do this right.”
“You will … most of the time. No father has ever done it right all of the time, not even the best of us, but I know you. You’ll try like no other. You always do, no matter what task is set before you.”
Footsteps creaked on the hall floorboards. Auric sidled into the room, balancing a tray with a bottle of golden liquor and three tumblers. “Annie said she’d send up a plate of sandwiches, but I brought these.” The liquid swirled into the first glass which he passed to Jericho.
Jericho inhaled the sharp, warm scent, but didn’t drink. His father had been a drunkard, so he’d never touched the stuff. Though his father’s choice of beverage had been cheap ale and rotgut, nothing near as sophisticated as what the Spellsmiths kept on hand.
Hedward took a sip. “So, boy or girl? What’s your wager?”
“Even chance, I figure.” Jericho set the drink down on the table, trying not to look at the still closed door.
“Iris wouldn’t give me a guess either. Said the ‘energy was mixed’ whatever that means.” Hedward snorted. “I’m thinking a boy, though. Jericho, Junior, eh?” He slapped his knee.
Jericho couldn’t help but glance at Auric. After an incident where Auric had put himself in danger to save Jericho’s life, Jericho and Rill had agreed that, if it were a boy, he would be named after his uncle—Ric, or Ricky, for short. No point in getting Auric wound up about that until they knew for sure, though.
“I’m guessing a girl, just to be contrary.” Auric winked at Hedward.
“Of course you are.” Hedward raised his eyes towards the ceiling. “However your child turns out, Jericho, just know, it won’t be as bad as this one.”
“I love you, too, Father.” Auric smirked.
“So, no preference at all?” Hedward eyed Jericho.
“Not really. Perhaps I’d feel differently if I’d stayed in my uncle’s shop. I’m not sure the village is willing to accept a female carpenter, but my trade’s magic now.” Jericho tapped his fingers anxiously against his thigh. “Rill’s proven a woman can be trained in magic as well as any man, so as far as passing on my knowledge, girl or boy will do.”
“There’s more to being a father than teaching them your trade … though, you’re right. Whichever this child is, it’s a blessing.”
“Oh, you blasted pest!” The voice of Annie, their gray-curled cook, rose from the direction of the stairs. Jericho stepped into the hall and saw her enter carrying a platter of sandwiches while dancing around a bronze-plated fox with glowing yellow eyes.
The fox met Jericho’s gaze and let out a welcoming “Yip!”
“Always underfoot, aren’t you, Jaspyr?” Jericho chuckled and scooped up the magical, metal animal. Jaspyr purred into Jericho’s ear.
“He’s been skulking about the kitchen, stealing scraps and scratching at the door to get out.” Annie placed the sandwiches on a table and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Doesn’t like being kept from his mistress for so long, I reckon.”
�
��I don’t blame him.” Jericho rubbed Jaspyr’s ears.
“Yes, but we can’t have him frisking around when the baby arrives. No telling how he’ll react.” Hedward reached for the animal. “I’ll shut him in the washroom with a bowl of milk to keep him busy.”
Jaspyr whimpered but didn’t resist when Jericho passed him to Hedward.
Hedward and Annie departed down the stairs.
“Fire’s dying out.” Auric tossed a log on the coals then drew a book-sized case from his breast pocket. He flipped this open, revealing a sheet of beeswax. With his stylus, he scratched a line of magical symbols. A burst of energy shot across the written spell, invoking a fiery flare that impacted against the wood. The flames roared with renewed brilliance, accompanied by a whiff of lavender, Auric’s magical signature.
With a satisfied nod, Auric took a bite of a sandwich then waved towards the platter. “Got to keep your strength up, right? I’d hate to have to tell your kid you fainted away due to hunger and missed her, or his, arrival.”
“Not hungry.” Jericho wondered if pressing his ear to the birth room door would yield anything pertinent. Couldn’t Iris at least spare them another update? He couldn’t see no news being good news. What if something went wrong? They’d tell him, wouldn’t they?
“It’s going to be fine. Babies are born every day, you know.”
“Not mine.” Jericho massaged his forehead.
“It’s Rill, though. She’s strong. This kid is lucky to have her as a mother and you as a father. I get that you’re nervous, but you don’t need to be. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you fail at anything.”
“I’d hate for this to be the first.” Scenarios swirled through his head. Rill was all right, but something had happened to the baby … the baby was fine, but not Rill … both the baby and Rill … His gut tightened into a knot only a sword could solve.
Auric laughed.
The discordance of the sound over Jericho’s own morbid thoughts made him snap to attention. “What?” He scowled.
Auric smiled sheepishly. “I just was thinking about when we met. If someone had told me then that in a year’s time I’d be happily awaiting the birth of a child you fathered with my sister, I’d have probably hauled off and punched them. A lot’s happened since then, hasn’t it?”
The tension between Jericho’s shoulders eased, and he chuckled. “Yeah. It’s been a good year, though.”
A faint cry rose through the door. Ice shot through Jericho’s veins.
Auric’s smile blossomed into a grin. “Congratulations, Dad.”
Heart in his throat, Jericho took a step towards the door, then stopped. “Do you think I can go in?”
“I’d wait until you’re summoned. Give them a moment to … clean up.” Auric winced.
Jericho gave a nervous laugh. Lightheaded, he wondered if Auric had been right and he should’ve eaten something. The cries quieted, then rang out again. Jericho drew a steadying breath. “Come on. Let me in,” he whispered.
“Did something happen?” Hedward hurried down the hall.
“We definitely heard something.” Auric filled his tumbler again and raised the glass. “Ready to toast the new arrival?”
The door creaked open, and Iris stepped out. Her hair was disheveled, but her blue eyes shone brightly.
Jericho swallowed. “Is Rill all right?”
“She’s fine. Well, exhausted, but she did brilliantly.” Iris took his hand. “Come. You have someone to meet.”
The carpet seemed to move beneath his feet, sweeping him into the dimly lit room. Lantern light flickered across Rill’s face as she lay, propped up on thick pillows. Her pale blonde hair was slicked back, and red rimmed her eyes, but the smile on her face as she gazed down at the bundle in her arms sent a thrill through him. The midwife straightened from over the bassinet and winked at him.
“Jerry!” Rill breathed. “I finally got her to calm down. Look.”
“Her?” Jericho stumbled forward and knelt at her side. The folds of the blanket nearly swallowed the tiny red face within. He put out a tentative hand and touched the baby’s cheek. Her mouth opened and closed in a yawn, eyes closed. “Welcome, little Lilac.” He kissed Rill’s forehead. “So Auric wins the bet. We have a girl.”
“Well, he half wins.” Rill’s eyes twinkled.
Someone tapped Jericho on the shoulder. The midwife loomed above him, holding a second bundle. Jericho’s vision swam.
Iris stepped closer, grinning. “Meet your son, Jericho.”
Everything turned gray. Bracing himself against the bed frame, Jericho blinked several times until the midwife cradling his second child came into focus.
Second child?
“Are you all right?” Rill’s tone wavered between amused and concerned. “Jerry, please say something.”
His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He placed one hand on the child in Rill’s arms and with the other touched the second baby, glancing back and forth between them. They were near identical, but in the way he supposed most babies were: puffy, pink, with eyes squeezed shut. The only difference he could note was a wisp of dark hair clinging to the boy’s forehead.
“Oh, wow,” he whispered.
The midwife nudged the baby towards him, and somehow he managed to get his arms about him. A tiny hand escaped the blanket, fingers opening and closing. “Little Auric, then.”
“Ric, so it isn’t confusing, remember?” Rill said. “Do you like them?” She flushed. “That sounds silly. I mean, do you … well … do you?”
The swirling emotions settled within him. He concentrated on what they’d left in their wake: a lightness, a buoyancy even. “Yeah, I think I like them.” A mischievous thought pricked at his brain. “Can I borrow them for a moment?”
“A moment, I suppose.” Rill nodded.
Kissing Ric’s forehead, Jericho passed him to Iris, then reached for Lilac. “Stay behind me a step and don’t let them see him. I don’t want to be the only one blindsided tonight.”
Iris grinned. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
The midwife bustled ahead to open the door. Iris kept right behind Jericho, using his body to shield her and her burden from any eyes.
Auric and Hedward stood shoulder to shoulder in the hall. Hedward rose on his toes, half-bouncing like an eager school boy.
“How’s Rill?” Auric asked.
“She’s fine. Didn’t want to give this one up, but I convinced her.” Careful not to drop her, Jericho held Lilac out to Hedward. “Meet Lilac Carver, my daughter.”
The older man gave out a long sigh before taking the child and drawing her to his chest. “So much like her mother, and that name—like Rill’s magical signature? Perfect! She’s beautiful.” A tear ran down his cheek, glistening in the lamplight.
“Not bad.” Auric nodded, gazing at the child. “And I win the wager?”
“Oh, shush, don’t ruin the moment.” Hedward rolled his eyes.
“Actually.” Jericho stepped aside, revealing Iris. “You both win—or lose, depending on how you look at it.”
Auric and Hedward’s jaws dropped in unison.
“This is my son.” Jericho sought Auric’s eyes. “Auric Carver.”
Auric’s face reddened, and he rasped out, “Really?”
Jericho took the baby from Iris and presented him to his uncle. “Yes, really. After everything we’ve been through, Rill and I agreed it was a name we’d be proud for our son to have. If you’re all right with it, of course?”
“All right?” Auric stammered. “All right? Of course I’m … Jericho, this means so much. Oh, powers. I want to hold him, but I feel about to fall down.”
“Maybe sit down and then hold him?” Jericho raised an eyebrow.
“Good thinking.” Auric stumbled into the next room and sank into a chair.
Jericho carefully transferred the baby into Auric’s arms.
“Huh.” Auric tilted his head. “Tiny little thing.” He chuckled. “Is Rill going to call h
im ‘Aurry,’ too?”
“You know Rill and her nicknames. We hadn’t been settled on the names for two minutes when she told me they’d be ‘Lila and Ric’ for short.”
“Ah, Ric, of course.” Auric trailed his finger across the little one’s cheek.
“Jericho?” Iris called.
Jericho spun on his heel and found his in-laws stooped over Lilac.
“She’s rooting a bit.” Iris gestured towards Lilac who opened and shut her mouth, turning her head this way and that. “Probably hungry. Do you think Rill will need my help with the feeding? The first time isn’t always as easy as it might seem.”
“I’ll ask.” He took Lilac then nodded his head towards Auric. “Can you keep an eye on the other for me? I’m not sure Auric knows what to do with a baby.”
Iris giggled. “Gladly.”
Jericho hurried to his wife’s side. She reached for their daughter, a look akin to hunger on her own face.
“Your mom thinks Lilac wants to eat.” He eased the baby into place. “She said she’d help if you wanted.”
“Maybe. I would like to try on my own first.” She glanced at the midwife and flushed. “Would you mind shutting the door? Father and Aurry are out there, aren’t they?”
The midwife obeyed.
Rill loosened the collar of her night gown. “Nothing you haven’t seen before, I suppose,” she said with a nervous laugh.
For some reason, his face warmed. “No, but the context is new. I can leave if you’d like.”
“No, stay. This is our life now.”
“Yes.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “It is, and it’s wonderful.”
Chapter Two
Auric sighed over his morning tea. He tapped his fingers against the smudged envelope their servant, Will, had brought from the Mountain’s Foot post office that morning. Addressed to Auric Spellsmith from Ms. L. Tyckner of Capital City.
Normally he ripped into Lotta’s letters immediately. With her work keeping her in the city and his family obligations keeping him home, they were lucky to steal away for a visit once a month, and those always short-lived. However, while sincere and smart, Lotta tended to be very matter-of-fact in her communication, especially written correspondence. The last few letters she’d sent had devolved into mundane lists of her business activities and engineering projects. Hardly emotionally satisfying. He knew it wasn’t personal. She was an inventor not a poet. With the written word being the majority of their relationship, though, he could’ve used a sonnet now and then … or at least a limerick.
