by H. L. Burke
Auric glanced around the foyer. The door to the sitting room was before him, the curving stair leading up to the sleeping quarters to his left. He touched the banister, remembering how Annie, their cook and housekeeper, had snapped at him for teaching Rill to slide down it. To the right another stair led to the workshop, and also the small room Father kept as a private study.
“Dad?” Rill called, her voice echoing to the vaulted ceiling.
No one answered. Auric’s chest tightened. He placed his carpet bag on the floor and shut the door behind him.
Rill cleared her throat. “He’s probably sunk into his work is all. It’s hard to hear visitors arrive from the study. I’ll go get him.” She stepped towards the stairs, but he caught her arm.
“No, let him be. I didn’t feel like eating on the train, and I’m starving now.” He pointed towards the small door under the stairs. “Let’s go to the kitchen and see if Annie has anything handy. We can catch up some more while I eat.”
Rill touched his cheek. “He doesn’t mean to hurt you. Please give him a chance.”
“I am,” he promised. “But now, I just want to talk to my baby sister.”
Chapter Two
Auric laughed and slathered butter on another slab of white bread. At the stove, round-faced, smiling Annie set a kettle on, then reached into a cupboard for the tea things.
“I can’t imagine sober-faced old Will dancing like that,” Auric said.
Rill looked up from her embroidery. “He’s loosened up in the last few years, and Father was generous with the cider last Christmas. I think everyone in the house made a fool of themselves.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for that.” He bit into the bread and allowed it to melt on his tongue, sweet and salty. “Ah, Annie, I’ve missed your cooking.”
The woman beamed, pushing a gray curl back under her cap. “Being without it certainly hasn’t stopped you from growing. Eat up, young man.”
Jaspyr yawned and stretched at Rill’s feet. Auric nudged at the pet with his toe. The fox blinked at him, sniffed, and darted under the stove.
“He’s not used to your smell yet,” Rill said. “He’ll warm up to you in a day or two.”
“I guess I can’t blame him for not remembering me after all these years.”
The kettle sang out, and Annie filled the teapot. Steam wisped from the china.
“Do you still like it with three sugars?” the cook asked.
Auric shook his head. “Late nights studying at the Academy got me to take it straight, the stronger the better.”
Footsteps pounded on the stairs. “Rill? Rill, where are you?”
Rill ran to the door. “In here, Father!”
A middle-aged man with silver-streaked brown curls burst in. His eyes met Auric’s and he froze. Auric’s tongue suddenly felt too big for his mouth. His father looked the same, yet different, deeper lines around his gray eyes, his twill vest shabbier than ever. Somehow he seemed shorter—or perhaps Auric was simply taller—but still the same man.
Hedward Spellsmith put out his hand and touched Auric’s shoulder. His fingers squeezed as if making sure Auric was solid. “Son,” he whispered.
Auric stood and cleared his throat. “Father.”
Everyone in the room stared at the pair, making Auric’s skin crawl. Father’s eyes swept up and down his son. “You look … older.”
Auric raised his eyebrows. “Well, I am, so I guess that makes sense.”
“He’s been telling me all about his studies, Father.” Rill came to Hedward’s side. “He’s learned a lot, many interesting new spells.”
“I’m sure he has.” Father’s mouth quirked downward. He shifted from foot to foot. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the station this morning, but the magical energies were off.” He turned to Rill. “Is Jericho back yet?”
She shook her head. “It’s barely noon. You know he has until three.”
“I suppose, but I could use his help in the shop right now.”
Rill elbowed their father in the side and nodded her head towards Auric. Father frowned, then his eyes widened.
Auric grimaced. He’d have to put aside his pride if he wanted to get on with Father. “Perhaps I can be of assistance, sir?”
Father nodded. “I suppose you would remember basic warding and boundary spells.”
“I do.” And just about every form of magic taught at the Academy. Five years of study with top marks, but of course that meant nothing to Father. Auric resisted the urge to loosen his collar.
“Well, let’s get to work then.” Father wandered out of the kitchen.
“I’m sorry,” Rill whispered. “He’s just—”
“Distracted, I know.” Auric followed Father up the stairs to the workshop.
Father’s workshop took up most of the south wing of the house, the north wing being bedchambers and living spaces. The room was cavernous. Bookshelves lined the walls filled to bursting. At the far end, beside the door to Father’s study, sat an old wooden desk. Scrolls stuck out of pigeon holes over the desk, and books were piled precariously on top of it, along with ink pots, spent quires, and several empty teacups. A long table covered in blocks of stone and slabs of wood took up the middle of the shop, and everywhere there was the familiar prickle of magic and the smell of paper, ink, and sawdust. Oddly, the only difference Auric noted was that it was neater than he remembered. When he’d left, papers, books, and supplies had been scattered like autumn leaves, not carefully shelved and sorted. Perhaps that was Rill’s doing, though he couldn’t imagine Father letting her linger in the shop long enough to tidy it. More likely it was the mythical Jericho.
Auric shut his eyes, and for a moment he was a child again, copying his father’s magic symbols onto scraps of paper and longing to get his chance at a hearty spell, the kind Father would inscribe onto wood or stone, the kind that could change the world around them in wonderful ways. He shook it off and opened his eyes to Hedward drawing out a foot square board of alder wood.
“So basic warding and boundaries?” He approached his father.
“Yes, the energies are off today, surging, spiking.” Father pulled his stylus, identical to Auric’s, from his vest pocket. He drew the commencement symbol onto the board, the wood darkening beneath the stylus as if burned. “Check the ward on the west side of the shop. It indicated several bursts of Fey power just this morning. Highly irregular.”
Auric walked over to the waist-high stone column covered in more magical symbols. At the top hovered a crystal ball, about the size of an apple. Inside the sphere a line spiraled, sometimes thick, sometimes thin, like the rings on a tree stump. The line was definitely thicker for about two inches of swirl this morning, but the more recent rings were well-below the average width.
“It’s a tear spike.” He turned from the indicator ward. “And a small one at that. Simply means a rift has formed between here and the Fey realm, and not a particularly large one. Honestly, the energy levels over the Capital are always higher than that.”
“That’s the Capital, not Mountain’s Foot.” Father wrung his hands then wiped his sleeve across his forehead. “I need to pinpoint exactly where the rift formed. Somewhere in town, I think. If I can triangulate it, perhaps I can keep it from happening again.”
Auric exhaled. His father would go mad in the Capital. To power their spells and animate their constructs, the Academy magicians had opened a permanent rift to the Fey Lands. It tore across the sky like a red wound, so bright with magical energy you could read by the light of it. Perhaps it was inevitable that such rifts were beginning to spread, like spider cracks rising from a break in a window.
Father stooped over a map of the town and surrounding countryside. With a compass, he circled Spellsmith Manor. “From the strength, it’s within that area.”
“That circle contains all of the village and most of the surrounding farms, sir,” Auric pointed out.
“Well, it registered on the western ward, but not the eastern o
ne, so most likely in the village.” His father ran his fingers through his hair. “Blast, if I knew the exact strength of it, I could calculate the distance.”
Auric perked up. “I can help with that. I just need to measure the width of the ward line against the length of the burst. I’ll need a magnifier. That one you used to keep in your study should do.” He started towards the door that led to his father’s study.
“Stop!” Hedward jumped in front of his son.
Auric recoiled.
Hedward cleared his throat. “I’m working on something in there. I’ll get the magnifier. Just don’t touch anything while I’m gone.” He darted through the door, slamming it behind him.
Auric deflated. “Oh, Dear God, this isn’t going well. Was coming back here a mistake?” God didn’t answer, so Auric waited for his father to return.
A scuffling noise drew his attention to the stairs. Rill poked her head into the room, carrying a tray of tea and toast. “We made it nice and strong. Father likes it that way, too, you know.”
He shrugged. “I guess I’d forgotten.”
She put the tray on the table next to a line of wooden quires. “Perhaps it will calm him.”
“Something needs to if I’m to survive the afternoon,” he sighed.
Jaspyr bounded up the stairs and circled Rill’s feet. She tossed him a piece of toast which he chomped down before settling under the table.
Auric laughed. “Jaspyr doesn’t need to eat, you know. He’s powered by magical energies.”
“He likes to eat.” She passed her brother a cup of tea. “That’s all I need to know to keep feeding him.”
Father returned, the magnifier clasped in his hand. He eyed Rill, opened his mouth, shut it, then shook his head and crossed over to the indicator ward.
“I can do that,” Auric said.
“I’ve got it.” Father held up his hand and bent over the ward.
Auric bit his tongue. A touch on his hand made him look down. Rill gave him a soft smile.
“It’s getting worse, you know.” Father straightened again. “Those magicians in the Capital, opening rifts willy nilly to power their frivolous spells. Do they think of the consequences? Of the forces they are allowing into this world? Selfish fools, the lot of them.”
Hot coals itched under Auric’s collar. Those magicians were his instructors, his classmates, his friends even. He would’ve been among their number, if he hadn’t been stupid enough to come home. He opened his mouth to snap at his father, but the faint slam of a distant door interrupted him.
Rill snapped to attention. “Oh, thank God. Jericho’s back.” She darted down the stairs.
Chapter Three
Auric followed behind Rill, but stopped halfway down the stairs.
A man stood in the foyer, a ridiculously tall man with short cropped dark hair and a clean shaven face. He wore a simple brown vest, sturdy workman’s trousers, and worn riding boots, obviously a tradesman rather than gentry. Dark eyes glinted under heavy brows. When Rill rushed to him, those eyes lit up in a way Auric did not like.
“You’re back early!” Rill clasped his hand.
He laughed. “Yes, well, hanging around my uncle’s shop isn’t as entertaining as it sounds.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.” Her shoulders slouched. “Father’s in a mood again.”
The man, Jericho, Auric presumed, frowned. “Another spike?”
“Yes.”
Jericho started across the foyer in long, determined strides. Unwilling to be caught watching, Auric hurried into his father’s workshop.
A moment later Jericho strode in, Rill at his heels like a pet. “I heard there was a spike,” he said.
“Yes, early this morning. I’ve been trying to pin down the location.” Hedward rubbed his arms. “No luck so far.”
Auric opened his mouth to remind his father about his plan, but Jericho spoke first.
“Which wards caught it?”
“Just the western one.”
Jericho leaned over the western ward. “It’s not that large. Have you compared it to the spikes we had last week?”
“Not yet,” Hedward said. “I was more concerned with the ‘where’ of it.”
Jericho straightened. “I think it’s actually smaller than last week’s. Why don’t we double check with the log?”
Hedward nodded towards his private study. “It’s on the desk.”
Auric’s jaw dropped as Jericho casually walked into the study. Why had his father forbade him entrance if he was just going to allow the hired help to waltz in less than ten minutes later?
Jericho quickly returned clutching a leather-bound ledger. “Yes, I thought so. Look, the energy levels are actually down.” Father hurried to confer with Jericho.
Someone gave Auric a gentle shove between his shoulder blades. He turned and found Rill behind him.
“Go on,” she whispered. “Introduce yourself. You’re so quiet, I don’t think Jericho has even noticed your arrival.”
Auric glanced from her to Father and his apprentice, heads together over the ledger. He swallowed and shook his head. “I want to get settled in. Same room?”
“I kept it just how you left it.”
***
Jericho sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. So much for his day off. The grandfather clock in the foyer struck eleven as he descended the stairs from the workshop. Master Spellsmith was still doggedly at it, but had retreated into his private study, leaving Jericho to tidy up before turning in.
His stomach grumbled. Thankfully, Annie probably had set something aside for him. It wasn’t unusual for Master Spellsmith to keep Jericho working through dinner.
A light shone under the kitchen door. He pushed it open.
Rill sat at the table, her metal fox at her feet, embroidery hoop in hand.
He blinked. “You’re still up?”
“I wanted to talk to you, and I knew you’d make your way in here eventually.” She nodded to the oven. “In there.”
He pried open the metal door and smiled. Inside the unlit but still warm interior, a covered clay dish awaited. With a pot holder, he eased it out and set it on the table. He settled across from Rill. When he removed the lid, the smell of beef and barley rose to greet him. His mouth watered.
“Is Father still working?” Rill asked.
He nodded, looking about for a fork. She slid one across the table for him.
“Thank you. Yes, I have a bad feeling he’ll be up all night, but once he gets started, he’s like a log rolling downhill. Only stops when he hits the bottom.” He blew on his first bite then gulped it down. Delicious, a bit too much rosemary, as usual, but savory and satisfying.
Rill sighed. “Auric never joined you?”
Jericho paused mid-chew. He swallowed. “Oh, yeah, he was supposed to be in today, wasn’t he? I think I saw him briefly, when I came home. I blinked and he was gone, though.” The thought of Auric slowed his appetite. He pushed the food around the dish.
Being Master Spellsmith’s apprentice had always been too good to be true. Now that the son, the natural heir, had returned, it was likely to be over altogether. The town wasn’t big enough for two magicians to set up shop. A larger city might support multiple magic workers with commissions from local trade guilds, but in a village the size of Mountain’s Foot, there simply wasn’t the need. He worked the kinks out of his jaw and forced himself to resume eating. No point in worrying about what he couldn’t help.
Rill’s pale eyebrows, like streaks of frost against her rosy skin, pinched together. “Did Father talk about Auric at all?”
He took another bite. “You know your dad, Rill. When he works, he talks work if he talks at all. We don’t exactly lay bare our innermost thoughts to each other.”
“I know, but he hasn’t seen his son in half a decade, and today he was just … himself. He was himself.” She set down her embroidery and rubbed her forehead.
Her distress prickled at Jericho’s soul, urging him t
o fix things for her. Uncertain what to do, he reached across the table and touched her hand. “Hey, you all right?”
“Five years ago, I told Aurry to go to the Academy. He wanted to so badly, but he thought leaving me alone with Father would be a betrayal of sorts, especially with Father determined that I’d never study magic.” She gazed at the fireplace, her blue eyes reflecting the smoldering coals. “But he and Father never stopped fighting. I hated being between them, so I all but ordered Auric to go. Now he’s back, but I’m not sure anything has changed.”
“It takes more than time to change people, Rill,” he said. “They actually have to want to change.”
“I think Auric is trying, but I know him. He’ll take the path of least resistance, and if Father doesn’t make an effort soon, Auric is going to stop. If that happens, I don’t think they’ll ever be able to work together.” Her bottom lip quivered. “Jerry, I don’t know what I’m going to do if I get stuck in the middle of that again, but at the same time, if Auric goes back to the Capital, I’ll never see him again.”
Jericho shifted uncomfortably. He hated seeing her sad, but it wasn’t as if he had any influence over Master Spellsmith. He was simply the hired help.
Glancing around the kitchen, he stood, crossed to the door, and shut it. “I know what’ll cheer you up.” He pulled a piece of kindling from the bucket beside the fire and set it in front of her. Her cheeks flushed. Re-positioning his chair so he could sit beside her, he reached into his vest pocket and withdrew his stylus.
Rill angled away from him. “You know I can’t.”
“Actually, I know you can.” He smirked. Watching Rill work magic was one of his greatest joys. Some women were graceful dancers, works of art in motion. Rill’s elegance, however, shone when she had a stylus in hand, gliding through magical symbols with ease and artistry. It stirred something in him every time.
She cast a furtive glance at the door. “It’s not a good time, what with how agitated Father’s been lately. If he catches us—”
“Your father is going to fall asleep at his desk like always. Go on.” He held out the stylus.
