The Sorcerer's Scourge (4 page)

Bishop Edmonton droned on about the purity and sanctity of marriage for what seemed an eternity before finally getting to the part Azerick had been waiting for—the end. And it was none too soon. Azerick felt as though his legs were going to give out if he had to stand here any longer.

“Do you, Lord Azerick Giles, Magus, Savior of North Haven, and Defender of the Crown take Lady Miranda Covaire, First Daughter of North Haven, to be your wife to love, honor, and defend unto death?”

Azerick wanted to say something sharp and witty, but one look at Miranda’s brilliant eyes and joyous face stole away everything but the profound love he had for her.

“I do,” he simply but whole-heartedly replied.

“And do you, Lady Miranda Covaire, First Daughter of North Haven, take Lord Azerick Giles to be your husband to love, honor, and cherish unto death?”

Miranda looked up into Azerick’s nervous but adoring face and replied, “I do—until he aggravates me and I crack his thick skull with a mace.”

Miranda smiled broadly as Azerick and the Bishop gave her a shocked look while several in attendance, particularly those familiar with the sorcerer’s contrary nature, gave her jest a polite chuckle.

The priest cleared his throat and continued. “Then by the power vested in me, as witnessed by the people, and consecrated under the glow of Solarian’s holy radiance, I pronounce you married.”

Azerick’s heart raced as he leaned in and kissed his bride. Miranda returned his kiss with equal love and passion and the pair held each other in a tight embrace for several long moments. The couple was so lost in each other’s arms that the loud cheering and clapping, mostly from Azerick’s side of the chapel, did not even register to the couple until they finally untwined themselves from their shared embrace.

 Flower petals rained down upon the newlyweds as they exited the cathedral and made their way to the fine, open coach. Peck stood grinning from ear to ear in his fine suit as Azerick and Miranda approached. The palace had an official coach driver for such special events, but Azerick once again insisted on having his personal coachman drive them despite Peck being only twelve years old.

Azerick thought everyone in the city must have been crowding the cathedral, but that assumption proved false as the carriage took a long and meandering ride through the city on their way to the castle for the reception. The castle was less than a mile from the cathedral, but due to the twisting parade route, it took nearly an hour at the sedate pace they traveled.

People lined the streets block after block, just waiting to catch a glimpse of the newlyweds. Loud cheers rang out as the coach, headed by a mounted contingent of castle guards dressed in their ceremonial armor, reached each new turn. They finally arrived at the steps of the castle where the chamberlain waited to hustle the pair into the grand ballroom.

More horns blared to announce Azerick and Miranda’s arrival. The myriad conversations ceased as the guests of honor entered the room, a room nearly as equally divided as the cathedral had been. Azerick immediately noticed that his people were largely on one side of the room. They mostly gathered around the table that held a banquet of food, while the elites gathered amongst themselves, several eyeing the feast table as if they expected to have to lay siege to it if they wanted to partake in the bounty.

Azerick could not help the grim sort of smile that crept onto his face as he watched the nobles shy away from the common people as if they carried some sort of disease, or that being poor might rub off onto them. Azerick returned his focus onto himself and his wife as he noticed someone addressing him.

“Magus Azerick, it is good to finally meet you in person,” King Jarvin was saying.

Azerick took Jarvin in with a glance. His brown hair had a strong hint of auburn, most notable in his close-cropped beard. He had a strong build to him and stood several inches taller than Azerick did. Everything about his countenance spoke of his regal bearing and good breeding. Azerick disliked him immediately.

On his arm was a woman he assumed to be his wife. She was a handsome woman but not beautiful like Miranda, or even her mother, Mellina. There a powerful spark of intelligence in her eyes that held the look of someone that would not tolerate nonsense, but not in a haughty or pretentious sort of way. She almost reminded him of his own mother, particularly after they had lost their home. The stress of her husband’s tumultuous claim to the throne was telling in the lines around her eyes. Azerick found her far more to his liking.

Miranda gave her King a deep curtsy. “Your Majesty, I am so glad you and the Queen could attend the wedding. I know you must be so very busy.”

Azerick gave Jarvin a nod and a minuscule bow after Miranda elbowed him in the ribs. Jarvin merely quirked an eyebrow and grinned at Azerick’s lack of recognition for his status, which raised Azerick’s opinion of him just a little.

“Miranda, you have grown into such a lovely young woman since I last saw you.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Please, this is your home. Call me Jarvin.”

Miranda turned and addressed Queen Annette. “You look lovely today, Your Majesty.”

“Oh please. I have three children and look like I have birthed half a dozen. If it were not for this corset keeping all of my bits together I would be spilling out onto the floor,” Annette scoffed. “But it is kind of you to say so.”

“I would pull you away for some girl talk but I absolutely dread leaving my husband alone. He has an unerring ability to get himself into trouble.”

“I am not that bad!” Azerick protested.

Miranda looked at Azerick. “Shall I regale our guests with some of your exploits? Shall I explain why Lord Effrin practically knocked down a server trying to escape the room when you walked in?”

“I would rather you did not,” Azerick replied, but was unable to suppress a smile as he recalled turning the lord into a donkey creature for being rude. That had been well over a year ago, but the man still appeared to be traumatized from the event.

Jarvin came to Azerick’s rescue. “That is quite all right, Miranda. I just wanted the chance to meet Azerick face to face. I had expected to see him when I bestowed the accolade of Defender of the Crown upon him. I assume the invitation was lost in transit.”

“I received it,” Azerick replied. “It was very nice paper and it was much appreciated.”

Miranda was aghast. One did not ignore a summons from the King.

“How could you just ignore something like that? I never saw it. What did you do with it?” Miranda demanded to know.

“Like I said, it was very good paper,” Azerick looked askance and answered.

“I don’t understand…,” Miranda started to say then gasped.

To his credit, Jarvin laughed loudly and even Annette let a smile creep to her lips. Nearly everyone in the room turned to look at the unexpected outburst before returning to their own conversations.

“It is quite all right, Miranda. I would like to do the same thing with half the documents that come across my desk. Perhaps I should decree that any papers submitted to me be of similar quality so as not to chafe His Royal Highness.”

“Miranda,” Annette invited as she took hold of the other woman’s hand, “I think this is the perfect time for us to go have our girl talk, seeing as how men are incapable of speaking without being crude.”

“An excellent idea, Annette,” Miranda responded then glared at Azerick. “You better behave yourself!”

Azerick returned her glared warning with a look of innocence. “As I always do.”

“You better do a lot better than that or it is going to be one cold nuptials night,” she threatened and poked him hard with a finger.

The women left the two men alone to endure several uncomfortable moments of awkward silence. Of course, it was Jarvin who finally broke the silence.

“When Maude brought back word to me about how you destroyed the armor, I was unsure how to respond.”

“Perhaps with a simple thank you and maybe a nice cake,” Azerick replied with a shrug.

“Do you enjoy being contrary to everyone, or just the nobility?”

Azerick let out a deep breath. “I apologize, Your Majesty. I have had few positive encounters with the nobility. After losing my parents, living in the streets dodging killers and slavers, having my school laid to siege, and saving your throne from the aspirations of such men, well, it is hard to be completely objective.”

“It is quite all right. I actually find your lack of pretention refreshing. It is most distressful wondering if the man that is smiling at you is about to plunge a dagger into your back the instant you turn around.”

“Speaking of plunging daggers, how sits His Chafed Royal Highness upon his throne now that Ulric is gone?”

“As precarious as ever I think. The overt actions of Ulric have been squashed, largely thanks to you, but I am certain there are still rats gathering in the shadows. I lost a powerful ally when William was killed. Mellina is the only trusted friend I have left. As if I did not have enough trouble from the living, I am continuing to get more reports of the dead crawling out of their graves and terrorizing the populace. Have you seen such up here?” Jarvin asked.

Azerick shook his head. I did run afoul of a large group of creatures a few years ago, but that was nearer Brightridge. I have neither seen nor heard of anything since. Is it truly becoming a problem?”

“I am afraid so. It is mostly small groups easily dispatched by militia or townsfolk, but the reports are increasing. My advisor, Bishop Caalendor, has sent out several units of Solarian’s Light to consecrate the tombs and graveyards closest to human populations, and only a few battles have been of any significance. I fear that may change, however. I am sure you have noticed the exceedingly long winters.”

“I have. It is early summer and the snows just broke a few weeks ago up here. Already the winds feel as though they are getting colder.”

Jarvin nodded. “Ill tidings indeed. Let us talk of happier things on such a wonderful day. I snuck away and took a ride up to that school of yours this morning. It is quite impressive. I am glad see so much good done for the less fortunate citizens.”

“Well, someone certainly needed to do something.”

Jarvin let out a sigh. “Azerick, I know you probably think that as King, I can simply snap my fingers and have done whatever I wish. But if I could do that, I would be twice the wizard you are.”

“Actually I’m not a wizard at all. I am a sorcerer.”

Jarvin looked quizzically at Azerick. “I don’t understand the difference.”

“That’s all right. It seems to me that no one else does either.”

“Perhaps you can explain it to me?”

Azerick let out a small laugh. “Maybe once someone explains it to me, but I will do my best. A sorcerer and wizard are both thirsty. Each has an empty glass. A wizard takes a bucket to a well, fills the bucket, and then pours it into his glass. The sorcerer simply forces his will upon the well and the water comes to him. A poor metaphor, but the best one I have.”

“It certainly sounds like a sorcerer has a great deal more power.”

“Both have their advantages, but generally speaking, yes.”

“I will not keep you from your beautiful bride any longer. If I don’t let some of these other people fawn over me soon they might have a fit of apoplexy,” Jarvin said with a look of exasperation and waded into a knot of nobles hovering just on the other side of an imaginary border created by Azerick’s glare.

Azerick found Miranda talking to a group of commoners by the refreshment table and slipped his arm into hers.

 “Miss me?” Azerick asked, leaned down, and kissed her neck.

Miranda smiled coyly. “I did not hear anyone call for the guards. I assume you behaved yourself?”