Thyra steps back. “It’s actually Varna’s story. She’s the one who saw Rask at the fire. She believes he sent the bird that took Gerda and Anders.”
I duck my head. “I’d rather not talk about that now. Let’s focus on Christiane.”
Sephia nods before rising and crossing to her iron cook stove. As she rattles utensils and fills the kettle, I help Thyra undress Christiane, who looks up once to ask where she is, then lapses back into a stupor.
“Do you have a nightgown?” I ask.
Sephia points to her magical cupboard. “Check there. I’m sure you will find something.”
Thyra crosses to the wardrobe and opens its painted doors. She picks up the first item her fingers land on and looks at it for a moment before tossing it to me.
It is a nightgown, white as milk and soft as rabbit fur. I slip it over Christiane’s head and tug it down over her limp body.
I shoot Thyra a sharp glance. “I could use some help.”
She stares into a mirror lining one door of the wardrobe. I catch my reflection there and look away.
“That’s what he wants, Sephia.” Thyra closes the door and turns around, leaning back against the cupboard. “The mirror. I should have destroyed it again. Smashed it to pieces.”
“No, you did the right thing, sending it to Holger.” Sephia crosses the room, carrying a basin of water and a crocheted bag filled with bandages and other supplies. “Varna, would you please get the ointment I left on the counter?”
As I rise to fetch the jar of ointment, I look from Sephia’s verdant green eyes to Thyra’s icy gray ones. “Holger? Gerda mentioned the name, but claimed she never met him. He’s some old man who lives in a cave in the mountains, right?”
“A wise old man,” Sephia says, with a gentle smile. “And a friend.”
I hand her the ointment. “You said something before, about Gerda and the mirror. Something about a tear? What was that all about?” I sit beside Sephia on the edge of the bed and take a vial of amber liquid from her outstretched hand.
“A few drops on her lips will be sufficient.” Sephia glances at Thyra. “Ah yes, the tear. I think Thyra should tell that tale.”
Thyra twists her hands in the folds of her gray gown. “I’m not sure I should say anything without Gerda’s permission.”
“I don’t believe Gerda would mind.” Sephia bends her auburn head over Christiane’s prone form, her attention seemingly focused on her patient.
“It was magic,” Thyra says, after a long stretch of silence. “Not the kind I knew. Not anything, my master, Mael Voss, could have conjured. Or Sten Rask. Or even Sephia.”
The older woman continues working on Christiane, but I catch the crescent moon curve of her smile.
“The mirror was complete except for one piece. It was a fragment Voss took with him to his icy grave.” Thyra lifts her chin and meets my inquisitive stare with a steely gaze. “I sent him to his death, knowing he might possess that piece. Hoping he did not, and knowing he might.” She grips her hands together so tightly her knuckles turn white. “He did. I thought it was over—that he’d won. One missing piece and I was doomed. When the clock struck midnight, when I turned eighteen, I would disintegrate into a wraith. A horrible, never-ending existence, without a body, or any real thought. With no hope for death to release me.” She closes her eyes. “I prepared myself for this fate, but then something happened. It was magic none of us expected.” She opens her eyes and I’m taken aback. A fire burns there, brilliant as diamonds. “It was a miracle.”
“What does Gerda have to do with it?”
“Everything.” Thyra lifts her hands. “She wept, and one of her tears fell and hit the mirror and somehow made it whole. It saved me. Perhaps it was God who intervened, or the mirror itself. I do not know. I only know why. It was because Gerda cried. She wept for the girl who treated her rudely and stole the boy she loved. She cried for someone she had every right to hate. But Gerda didn’t think like that, did not feel that way. She wept because her heart held more love than the deepest well. She cried for me.”
Sephia sits back, pulling a light woolen blanket over Christiane. “I have done all I can. She sleeps peacefully, and I think she will heal quickly, although I doubt she’ll ever dance again.”
“Like Anders.” I stroke the ballerina’s soft cheek.
“Like Anders.” Sephia rises to her feet and crosses to Thyra, who stares at the enchantress as if she’s never seen her before. She stiffens for a moment when Sephia pulls her into a close embrace. Then her shoulders sag and she presses her head against Sephia’s shoulder.
“I have waited to hear you say it, Thyra. To accept a power mightier than any you ever wielded, or knew. To admit love was the magic that saved you.” Sephia pushes Thyra back, still holding onto her arms. She brushes the tears from the former Snow Queen’s very human face. “I know love compelled you to sacrifice your chance at freedom when you called down the avalanche that killed Voss. You were willing to throw away your life to save Kai, Gerda, Bae, and Luki. So remember, it was not only Gerda’s love that saved you, Thyra Winther. It was also your own.”
I leap to my feet. “Can such magic save Gerda? She holds so much love in her heart. Will it protect her from Rask?”
Sephia releases Thyra and turns to me. “I hope so, Varna. That is my prayer. I know if anything can keep her safe, that will.”
“We must find her, and Anders, and stop Rask. He wants the mirror.”
Sephia smooths down the front of her sea green gown. “I know. And he cannot have it. In his hands it could be used for great evil. I would be better to smash it to pieces than allow him, or his mentor, to wield such power.”
Thyra’s face displays a mixture of determination and fear. It solidifies a thought chasing around my mind like a will-o-the-wisp. “The restoration of the mirror is what saved Thyra. What will happen to her if it is broken again?”
I can tell by Sephia’s expression that, for once, someone has considered an idea that has eluded her.
Thyra has considered it. She has probably wrestled with this thought for some time. I stiffen my spine and look Sephia in the eye. “What will happen to Thyra if we destroy the mirror?”
Thyra steps around Sephia and touches her arm before speaking. “No one knows. How could they? No one truly understands the magic of the mirror, do they?”
“No.” Sephia’s voice is muted and her lashes lowered, veiling her green eyes.
“You could still become a wraith?” I bite the inside of my cheek.
“No, I don’t think so. That was a spell Voss created—he drew on the mirror to do so, but I don’t believe that is part of its intrinsic powers.”
“You might die?” I turn to Sephia. “Will destroying the mirror kill Thyra?”
“As she says, no one knows.”
I look from one beautiful face to the other. “Does Kai know?”
“No, although I’m sure it will occur to him, in time. Especially if it appears we must destroy the mirror to stop Rask.” Thyra tosses her head. Her curls catch the light and seem to spark, like lightning flashing across a night sky. “It doesn’t matter. We must find Gerda and Anders, and make sure Sten Rask does not gain access to the mirror, no matter what it takes.”
Sephia grips Thyra’s hand.
“No matter what,” I echo.
If that means you must make the sacrifice, Varna, then so be it. Rather than Thyra, rather than anyone else, let it be you.
Thyra pulls her hand free and forces a smile. “Now I must go and tend to Freya and Luki. They’ve been waiting patiently for some time. I will leave you to take care of Christiane.”
After Thyra leaves, I catch Sephia’s eye. “I’ll sit with Christiane, if you wish.”
The enchantress slides two fingers down her long, slender neck. “Thank you. I think I shall try to send a message to Holger. Someone must warn him about Rask.”
“How can you do that? Isn’t he in a cave somewhere, far from any roads or
trails?”
Sephia’s smile lights up the room. “I have some special messengers.” She turns and walks to the door to her garden, but pauses with her hand on the latch. “You have the makings of a great healer, Varna Lund. I just want you to know that.”
I hug myself when she leaves the room, and contemplate a future spent here, learning from Sephia. I could become more than a simple village healer. I could grow into someone who mirrors cannot define. I could become something more.
Someone who matters.
I smile and lay the back of my hand on Christiane’s brow to check for fever.
Chapter Fifteen: Before the Storm
ERIK AND KAI RETURN a week later.
Bae lumbers into the clearing as I drape damp sheets over a blanket covering a low tree limb. Erik and Kai straggle behind him, their clothes caked with dust and dried mud. They look like they’ve been traveling for months.
I raise my hand in greeting. “Welcome back. You bring good news, I hope.”
“News, yes, but ... ”
“But what? If you didn’t you find Gerda and Anders, why have you returned?”
“We have news. I’m just not certain how good it is. Give me a moment, would you?” Erik strides to the pump and works the lever until water gushes out. He sticks his head under the spout.
“We’ve been on quite a journey.” Kai looks abashed as Erik swears and shouts, “Cold as ice!”
Erik straightens, slams down the lever, and steps away from the pump. His red hair is plastered against his skull and the dripping water leaves pale trails in the grime coating his face.
I toss him a towel. “It’s a bit damp, but since you’re soaked, it should do.”
He grunts and wipes his face clean before rubbing at his hair.
The door to the cottage flies open. Luki dashes out and heads for Kai, yipping and running in circles. Thyra crosses the clearing in several long strides before pulling up short before Kai.
Sephia waits in the doorway, her arm around Christiane’s slender shoulders.
Luki butts his head against Kai’s leg and howls once before loping into the woods, where Bae has already disappeared. Looking for food, no doubt.
“So you are back.” Thyra reaches out and plucks a twig from Kai’s dark hair. “Did you fall into a bog?”
Kai’s hand shoots up and his fingers encircle her wrist. “A bog, a stream, and two forest pools. We also tumbled down a steep ravine and climbed the side of a mountain. But we’re just fine, thank you very much.” He pulls her toward him, until they are standing toe to toe.
“That’s good.” Thyra uses her free hand to trace a line from Kai’s temple to his chin. She taps one finger against his rigid jaw. “I did worry a bit.”
“Did you?” Kai reaches up to trap her moving fingers with his. “I mostly did a lot of thinking. I considered all the elements of a certain equation.”
Thyra stands absolutely still. “Oh? And what answer was revealed when you completed this inquiry?”
“This one,” Kai says, and leans in to kiss her.
I turn my head to focus on Erik’s wide grin. “Now—what did you find out? Where are Gerda and Anders?”
He runs the towel roughly over his face. When he pulls it away, his expression is somber. “At Rask’s fortress. He owns a great stone pile of a house up in the mountains, hidden in the forest. We were able to walk the perimeter, but there was only one gate, and we couldn’t get past it. Fortunately, Bae was able to wander in when Rask rode back from wherever. Bae managed to catch a glimpse of Gerda and Anders through some barred windows before he was chased from the enclosure by that great bird we saw at the fire. It didn’t raise any alarms, so I guess Rask doesn’t take much notice of a wild reindeer roaming his property.”
“Which tells us he is not as perceptive as he may think,” Sephia says. “We can save the details for later. You need to clean up and rest.”
“Yes, you both require a change of clothes.” Thyra’s voice is merrier than I’ve ever heard it. She presses close to Kai’s side, leans into his shoulder, and sniffs. “Definitely.”
Kai laughs and tightens the arm he’s draped over her shoulders. “I can strip right here if you wish. I certainly don’t want to taint Sephia’s cottage.”
Thyra widens her gray eyes. “Kai Thorsen!” She pops him in the side with her fist. “Behave yourself. There are actual ladies present.”
Christiane giggles, but the bright sound devolves into a hacking cough. Poor Christiane. Although her leg is healing, I’m afraid the smoke she inhaled from the fire has permanently singed her lungs.
Sephia pats Christiane on the back. “Enough nonsense. Come inside, Thyra and Varna. I will provide these young gentlemen with some robes, so they can stroll to the river to bathe and tote back their dirty garments. Wearing the robes,” she adds, wagging her finger at Kai.
He grins and gives her a little bow.
I pick up the willow laundry basket and carry it inside as Kai and Thyra share another passionate kiss.
“It’s romantic,” Christiane says, as Sephia helps her to the armchair. “I just hope when Anders and Gerda return ... ” Her rosebud lips tremble. “They will return, right, Sephia?”
“Of course.” Sephia arranges a blanket over Christiane’s legs. As she turns to head for the wardrobe I catch her troubled expression.
“We’ll go fetch them, now that we know where they are.” I perch on the edge of one of the hard kitchen chairs. “I mean, with Sephia’s help, and all of us working together ... ”
“We shall see.” Sephia shoots me a sharp look before crossing to the front door.
I tighten my lips. See? Nonsense We’ll go and rescue Gerda and Anders and that is that.
Sephia steps outside to hand the robes to Erik and Kai, and pull Thyra, who lingers on the stoop, into the cottage. “Come inside,” she tells the younger woman. “He has waited for you long enough. You can wait a few minutes.”
Thyra wanders into the center of the room, looking as if she’s not entirely sure where she is. When she lifts her head I notice a rosy hue tinting the skin over her sharp cheekbones. Her eyes are soft as spring rain.
She is more beautiful than ever. This is what love can do.
Yes, Varna, but you must possess some sort of beauty before anyone will love you. I slap my arm with my opposite hand. Stop this now. Do not think about yourself—think about Gerda and Anders and how to rescue them.
Christiane’s dark eyes fasten on me with curiosity.
“Fly.” I lightly swat my arm again. “Got it that time.”
Sephia lifts her eyebrows as she heads for the stove. “Tea is what we need.”
“They need food.” Thyra follows her. “I’m sure they’re starving.” She pokes around the shelves of the larder. “Is there any of that honey left? And the lovely bread?”
No matter how many times I have seen Thyra help around the cottage over the past week, watching her perform domestic tasks always feels odd. She should be sitting in some parlor, discussing the finer points of a complex theory with a circle of scholars, not slicing bread.
Slicing bread is what girls like I do. We wash clothes, polish woodwork, and take care of all the little, mundane tasks fine ladies need not consider.
You are mistaken, Varna. She is not a fine lady. She’s a girl from your village, even if she was once the Snow Queen.
Sephia leans in to whisper something in Thyra’s ear.
Two women who are not fine ladies, yet demand more respect than most that are. Because they are confident in themselves, happy with who they are, and don’t care what anyone else thinks.
No, because they have power, Varna, or had it once and still act as if they do. Because they know what power is, and how to wield it. I press my hands over my ears. It’s Sten Rask’s voice I hear, even though I know these thoughts are mine.
“Are you all right, Varna?” Lines pucker Christiane’s forehead. “I know you must be worried, like me. I’m so lucky to be
here, with everyone taking care of me. All snug and safe, while Gerda and Anders ... ”
I stand, brushing off the pine needles clinging to my woolen skirt. “Don’t worry, we’ll bring them home as soon as we can. We’ll leave tomorrow, once the men have rested.”
Kai and Erik clatter into the cottage, wearing the odd robes Sephia provided. Their faces shine with scrubbing and their hair clings damply to their scalps. Although Erik tops Kai by a few inches and is bigger-boned, they are equally handsome. I walk to the fireplace and lean against the cool stones. Yes, and nice enough, yet they’ll never consider me as anything more than Gerda’s sister.
Sephia orders them to sit at the table and brings tea and a platter of fruit and cheese, while Thyra passes around the sliced bread and a ceramic jar filled with honey. The young men eat greedily, wolfing down two helpings of everything.
I wait until they finish eating before I cross to the table. Standing at one end, I tap my finger against the oaken surface. “So, when do we leave to rescue Gerda and Anders? Tomorrow? I know you’re tired, so I can pack for all of us, if you wish.”
Sephia and Thyra share a glance. “The truth is, we cannot make that journey yet.” Sephia turns back to the stove and fiddles with the lid of the kettle. “Thyra and Kai must warn Holger first.”
“No!” I shove the table. Erik’s cup bounces off and smashes against the plank floorboards.
Sephia’s face hardens like carved stone. “Yes, they must. I’ve sent several of my messengers and received no reply. They have returned with my messages unopened, unread. Perhaps my old friend sleeps, or rests in a state that prevents him from answering my missives. It is possible, given his age and the perfection of his spirit. Still, I must be sure. Holger is the guardian of the mirror and he should be warned. Thyra and Kai will take Bae and Luki and travel back to the lands Voss once held—the former kingdom of the Snow Queen. Only they know they way, and only they should travel it. The less who know the path to Holger’s cave, the better.”
Scepter of Fire Page 13
