The Sorcerer's Legacy (40 page)

Kayne flashed the duke a knowing smile. “Ah of course, you cannot have a battle without casualties now can you?”

“Precisely.”

Kayne’s mercenaries rode to Brightridge and harried the defenders upon the walls with arrows while looting the homes built outside the castle walls and setting them aflame. Ulric’s troops rode in shortly after and the two sides replayed the battle just as they had in Edmonton, but this time they had far more real corpses to litter the field thanks to General Quayburn’s gallantry.

Ulric once again drove the invaders off, his cavalry pursuing them into the hills as Ulric reaped the cheers of the city’s defenders. With boastful proclamations of his noble intentions of ridding the kingdom of these savage invaders, he and his men set off once more, leaving behind a grateful city full of mourning citizens.

What had once been a city full of his strongest opponents now looked to him with favor. Placing several men in key taverns and inns to boast of the duke’s beneficence and questioning the king’s failure to provide support and safety helped strengthen his position even more.

The land was far more populated near Brightridge so Kayne and Ulric were forced to march nearly a full day before reaching an area that they could camp and rest, secure from spying eyes.

“You promised me some good profits, Ulric. I lost quite a few good men today and I would like you to tell me how you are going to make sure I am well compensated,” Kayne demanded as they sat near a fire drinking brandy that was far below Ulric’s usual standards of refinement.

“If you thought this endeavor was without some risk to life, then you insult both our intelligences, Kayne. Our next objective is Groveswood. Are you familiar with it?” Ulric asked.

“Can’t really say that I am,” Kayne replied with a shake of his bald head.

“Groveswood is a small but wealthy town where rich nobles like to vacation and retire. There is a lot of wealth in that town and you will be free to plunder it for all it is worth,” Ulric promised the mercenary.

Kayne looked at the duke dubiously. “Sounds a little too good to be true. What’s the catch?”

Ulric shrugged his shoulders. “No catch really. There are a good number of guards given the limited population, but they are little more than an overrated city watch. I also need you to avoid killing very many of the populace. It would not do me much good to have you sack the town and have no one to complain to the king about it. I need these men’s support when I make my bid for the crown, therefore I need them alive.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard. I’ve never known a noble to fight for himself much. Once the guards are slain the nobles will likely cower in their homes and give us whatever we demand to make us go away and spare their useless lives,” agreed Kayne.

***

The keep was in absolute chaos. Hundreds of workers were quarrying, shaping, and mortaring stone for the new buildings and wall. Woodcutters were felling trees and shaping timbers, some children were busy trying to keep out of the way, some were apprenticing, and others were going through sword drills and archery practice with Ewen, Alex, Zeke, and Jansen.

However, that was not the source of the tension and raw nerves currently felt by the master of the tower and his friend Rusty. It was the hoarse screaming coming from behind the closed door to Rusty and Colleen’s room.

Colleen went into labor early that afternoon and was surrounded by a team of midwives, an herbalist, and Evan while Azerick and Rusty paced outside the door. Rusty sprinted for the door every time Colleen cried out only to be stopped by Azerick.

“She is doing fine, Rusty, calm down,” Azerick said reassuringly.

“It doesn’t sound like she’s doing fine to me,” Rusty replied in frustration. “Do you have that healing potion ready?”

“Yes, for the fifth time, I have the potion ready,” Azerick replied in exasperation.

Another cry of pain and exertion came from Colleen followed by the high-pitched wail of an infant complaining about the bright, cold world into which it was just forced. Azerick and Rusty looked at each other for a split second before racing for the door that one of the midwives was opening.

“Not yet, you two,” the midwife told them bluntly.

“I heard a cry,” Rusty exclaimed, “a baby cry! Is there something wrong?”

“No, there is nothing wrong. We just are not finished yet.”

“Not finished yet? She pushes, the baby comes out, you spank its butt, and it cries, which it has done! What else is there?”

A second cry filled the room in answer to Rusty’s question.

“Twins,” the midwife said simply.

“Get out of my way, woman!” Rusty demanded as both he and Azerick tried to push past the midwife at the same time.

In their haste to get into the room they both managed to wedge each other into the doorframe.

“Back up so I can get in!” Rusty demanded.

“I’m the godfather, you back up!” Azerick shouted back, wriggling and elbowing.

Rusty paused in his struggle and looked at Azerick incredulously. “I’m the father-father, you moron!”

Azerick stopped and looked at his best friend. “You’re right, Rusty, I’m sorry. You go ahead.”

Rusty shook his head. “No, you were right. You are the godfather and I will have plenty of time, you go ahead.”

“Are you sure? Because it is not like I won’t see the baby right after—,”

“Franklin Lazarus Cossington, get your skinny white butt in here, you idiot!” Colleen screamed from the bed.

Rusty ran into the room, tripped over the comforter that Colleen had pushed onto the floor during her struggles, and fell headlong into the nightstand. He jumped back to his feet holding his hand over the large red lump steadily growing on his forehead.

“I’m up, I’m ok. How are you doing, dear? Where’s my son? It is a son right? No? That’s ok, a girl is great too,” Rusty babbled as he spun around in an attempt to orient himself.

Colleen grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bed. “Rusty, slow down. Your son, daughter, and I are doing just fine.”

“A son, I have son? So it’s a boy?”

“Son’s almost always are,” Colleen said, smiling up at him.

“And a daughter!”

Tears of joy ran shamelessly down Rusty’s face as he saw his son and the infant’s twin sister nestled in Colleen’s arms, suckling.

“Congratulations, Rusty, they are beautiful,” Azerick told him and clapped him on the back.

“Say hello to your godson, Elias Azerick Cossington,” Colleen told Azerick, “and your goddaughter Trisha Rosemary Cossington.

“Elias? When you said you were going to name a boy after me I thought…” Azerick asked in confusion.

“We were, Az, but when we were trying names out, you know to hear how they sounded, we went with my Grandfather’s name first and yours for his middle name,” Rusty replied, looking a little uncomfortable.

“My name did not sound right? What’s wrong with my name?”

“Nothing, it’s a fine name—for you. It is just, well how many people have you met named
Azerick
? I could not bear to see him go through all the trouble you did.”

“My problems had nothing to do with my name!”

“No, fortunately you were able to aggravate people enough not to notice. You are also the only Azerick I have ever known, and what are your major achievements? Street rat, cutpurse, pickpocket, burglary, assaulting an old man, unlawful use of transmogrification magic, and you have killed how many people at the ripe old age of twenty—ten, twenty?”

“Rusty, stop teasing,” Colleen chided him. “Azerick, we love you dearly and you are Elias and Trisha’s godfather because we both think you are the best godfather they could have.”

“Thank you, Colleen,” Azerick replied and turned to Rusty. “She’s right you know, I am the best godfather they could have. And as for you being their father, well they’ll just have to do the best they can with what they have to work with.”

“Will you two stop it? This is a joyous occasion,” Colleen scolded them both.

“We are going to need another crib and bassinet,” Azerick looked at Rusty and said.

“And more baby clothes, and swaddling clothes!” Rusty added.

“We need to get to town!” they both exclaimed and rushed out the door towards the stables.

A few moments later, Colleen heard their pounding feet announcing their return.

“Uh, are you doing all right, dear? Azerick and I need to go into town. Will you be ok while we are gone?” Rusty asked his wife.

“I think right now I will be doing better with you both gone for a little while.”

“Ok, I love you, honey. We’ll be right back I promise.”

The two spell casters took Azerick’s coach, pulling Peck away from his friends to drive them. The sun was already setting and they were going to have to hurry if they wanted to catch the craftsman still in his shop. The coach raced down the streets, drawing angry glares from pedestrians, but Peck was a good driver and never went faster than he felt was safe.

They caught the carpenter they were looking for just as he was securing the doors of his workshop with a stout chain and lock.

“Master Orville, a moment before you lock up!” Azerick shouted, standing on the running board and hanging from the side of the coach.

Azerick leapt from the coach before Peck was able to bring it to a complete stop and ran towards the carpenter, hastened by the coach’s momentum.

“Ah, Magus Azerick. What can I do for you?” Orville asked.

“I need a crib right away. Do you have any already built?” Azerick asked as Rusty came up beside him.

The carpenter rubbed his chin with his hand thoughtfully. “No, can’t say I have any built, but I think I have the pieces cut out so I can put one together. I could have it for you by tomorrow afternoon.”

Rusty and Azerick both shook their heads. “We need it now, Orville. Rusty’s wife just gave birth to twins; a girl and a boy, and we only have the one bassinet,” Azerick explained desperately.

“Well, congratulations young fellow! It’s not often a man gets twice blessed like that. I suppose I could put together a rocking cradle pretty quick. Darned if you didn’t come on the one day the missus let’s me go the tavern and play cards with my friends,” Orville said plaintively.

“I’ll buy your drinks tonight for you and your friends if you will put the cradle together right now,” Azerick offered. “I will even pay you extra for the rush.”

Orville rubbed the stubble on his chin again. “Oh all right. It won’t be painted just so you know.”

“That’s fine, Orville, thank you, you’re a life saver,” Rusty replied.

The carpenter fished the key back out of his pocket, opened the big iron lock, and pulled the chain out of the thick door handles. Azerick and Rusty followed Orville inside the large woodshop. It was quite dark inside until Orville lit a few oil lamps. The shop smelled of fresh wood and sawdust. Cabinets, dressers, beds, wardrobes, tables, and chairs filled a large portion of the shop in various stages of completion.

Orville crossed the workshop, rummaged around in a rack of large cubbyholes built into the wall, and began selecting the precut pieces that he needed to build the cradle. He took the pieces to a worktable and laid them all out.

“If you lads are in as big a hurry as I am you can help me sand the pieces down,” Orville said and pointed to a bin that contained pots of sand of various coarseness and a few sanding blocks.