Scepter of Fire

by Victoria Gilbert

  I want this. No matter how impossible, this is what I want.

  Gerda leans into me and I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “You are next,” I whisper, and she blushes.

  Sephia’s glorious voice falls silent as Thyra takes Kai’s hand. The priest, his rheumy eyes suddenly sparkling with life, reads the service. After they share vows, Erik produces two simple, but beautifully carved, wooden rings from his pocket.

  So that’s what he was doing late last night, when he disappeared from our company.

  He hands the rings to Kai and Thyra. “For now.”

  “Forever.” Thyra clasps Erik’s hand and kisses his fingers.

  After the exchange of rings, the priest raises his hand to bless them as husband and wife.

  A swirl of white blossoms fills the air, drifting over their heads like snow, as Kai takes Thyra in his arms and kisses her.

  When they break off their kiss, Erik sends up a “huzzah!” and Anders joins in. Gerda, Christiane, and I clap and stamp our feet. Luki circles Thyra and Kai, yipping and banging his nose into Kai’s legs. Sephia leans in and kisses the priest on the cheek.

  Kai and Thyra laugh and run down the garden path.

  We gather in the cottage to eat the cakes and other treats laid out on the kitchen table. From some mysterious back shelf in the larder, Sephia produces bottles of champagne, already chilled, and we drink toasts until the words no longer make sense.

  The priest snores in the armchair as Erik swings Christiane around the floor, lifting her up so her injured leg is no impediment. Sephia raises a crystal glass and taps it with a silver spoon.

  “Now we send the happy couple off, to spend the evening in each other’s arms.” Her smile renders this announcement as pure as the pearls on Thyra’s gown. “I have another cottage prepared for you, just down the forest path. Quite tiny, but big enough for two.”

  Kai’s grin illuminates his face. “I thank you, my lady.” He bows to her before turning to Thyra. “What do you think, my love? Are you ready to leave this company and spend the night with me?”

  Thyra reaches up to stroke the side of his face. “I want nothing more.”

  He lifts her up in his arms and carries her out into the dark.

  Luki attempts to follow, but Gerda lays a hand on his back, burying her fingers into the thick fur of his ruff. “Not tonight, my friend. Tonight they must be left alone. Tonight you stay with us.”

  The wolf whimpers and sits back on his haunches, gazing trustfully into Gerda’s face.

  “There is more champagne.” Erik waves a bottle over his head. “It would be a shame to waste it.”

  “Nothing will be wasted tonight.” Sephia sweeps into the kitchen and holds out her glass. “Tomorrow we must return to the fight, but tonight ... Tonight is for joy.”

  Chapter Twenty-One: Into the Fire

  “WE MUST DO SOMETHING.” Erik paces the floor of the cottage, running his hands through his hair until it stands up in spikes.

  I sigh and settle back in the rocking chair. We’ve engaged in the same argument for three days.

  “What can you do?” Christiane glances over her shoulder. She stands at the kitchen table, stripping leaves from a bundle of herbs. “Rask is a powerful sorcerer. None of us can fight against him.”

  “I would not say that, exactly.” Sephia leans over Christiane’s shoulder, pointing out something. Instructing her in the finer points of herbal concoctions, no doubt.

  I sigh again. I’ve resigned myself to Christiane taking my place as Sephia’s apprentice, but now ... What am I to do? What am I to be?

  “If we can track Rask to his current location, perhaps we can figure out something from there.” Anders leans on the new cane Erik carved for him. This one boasts a simpler design—a finial of smooth wood, etched with a sunburst—but is still a fine piece of craftsmanship.

  “I agree.” Gerda places her hand under Anders’s elbow, providing extra support.

  Also touching him. Which she seems obsessed with lately. Not that he minds.

  I study Christiane’s narrow back, bent over the table, and marvel at the grace she displays over Anders’s defection. I’d have pegged her as a brainless flirt, but she’s actually nothing of the kind. Childlike, yes. Yet while she enjoys attention, she does not demand it, nor act sullen when it is withheld.

  I read her wrong when I met her. I expected the worst, and kept trying to find it. Something to remember, Varna. You may discover strength in the most unexpected places. You might even uncover a kernel of goodness in the darkest heart.

  “What if we were to track Rask and discover his whereabouts, but take no action?” I stand and cross to the center of the room. “Then we can alert Sephia, and see if she’s able to confront him unawares.” I step in front of Erik, forcing him to stop pacing. “Sephia said the only way to defeat such a sorcerer was by guile and surprise. If we can find him, tell her where he has hidden the mirror, perhaps she could do something?”

  “That might work.” Erik looks me up and down. “But only Anders and Kai and I need to go. You girls should stay here with Sephia.

  I place my hands on my hips. “Excuse me?”

  “There’s no need to put you in danger.” Erik takes a step forward, until we are close enough to touch, but he keeps his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Nonsense,” Gerda says.

  Erik casts her a glare over his shoulder. “Now look, I’m not about to argue with both the Lund sisters. I simply state the obvious. There is no point to the women coming with us.”

  “Oh really?”

  Thyra stands in the open doorway.

  “Yes.” Erik faces her, his mouth set in a tight line.

  “So, you see no use for us, is that right, Erik Stahl?” Thyra stalks into the room, stopping a few feet from where Erik and I stand.

  Kai follows her. He widens his eyes as he shakes his head at Erik.

  Who pays no attention. “I see no point in putting you in danger. If this is a simple reconnaissance mission, we don’t need everyone.”

  “You mean you do not want the women.” Thyra moves closer and I step back to allow her to face-off with Erik.

  “I want to protect you.”

  Thyra pokes a finger into his chest. “What if we don’t desire your protection, Erik Stahl? What if you need our help for things like—oh, I don’t know—my ability to speak a few foreign languages, or Varna’s healing skills?”

  “You speak other languages?” asks Gerda.

  Thyra tosses her head. “Yes. I learned more than mathematics on my travels. Now, Erik, I appreciate your concern, but I think it’s misplaced. This mission could require all our talents, not just your brawn.”

  Erik throws up his hands. “I am not just ...”

  “My friend, give it up.” Kai takes Thyra’s arm. “We travel together, or not at all.”

  “Very well. But I must register my disapproval.”

  Sephia turns around. “So noted, Master Stahl. However, I approve Varna’s plan. The six of you must work together to track down Sten Rask. Once you know his location, send me a message, and wait. I will remain here with Christiane until I receive word from you. That should prevent Rask from being alerted ahead of time.”

  Erik bends his head. “I bow to your command, my lady.”

  Sephia laughs. “I am not so high-born as all that. Still, I think this is the best plan. Something tells me you will all be needed to complete this task.”

  “How can we send you a message?” Anders asks.

  “Thyra knows how to reach me.” Sephia crosses to a cabinet and pulls out a small, glittering, object before walking over to Thyra and Kai. “Take this.” She presses a silver whistle in Thyra’s palm. “It will summon one of my messengers. You should recall them—falcons, trained to carry information in cylinders attached to their legs.”

  Thyra clenches her fingers about the whistle. “I will send you a message as soon as we determine Rask’s location.”

  “But
do nothing.” Sephia closes her fingers over Thyra’s fist. “Please allow me to confront him first.”

  Thyra nods. “Understood.”

  Kai pulls Thyra closer to his side. “Sephia, if you choose to destroy the mirror ... ”

  Sephia lays her other hand on his shoulder. “I understand your concern, Kai. No one knows how the destruction of the mirror could affect Thyra. I think she is resolved, in any case.”

  “Yes,” Thyra says, as Gerda rushes forward and jostles Sephia aside to face her.

  “What do you mean?” Gerda focuses on the former Snow Queen.

  Thyra smiles. “Only that the mirror, made whole, saved me. Made whole by you, my friend.” She strokes the side of Gerda’s face. “No one knows what smashing the mirror again may mean to me, but that doesn’t matter now. What must be done, must be done. And I have known such joy since”—she lays her head on Kai’s shoulder—“I think I can accept whatever fate has in store.”

  Kai kisses her temple. “Not me. I’m going to fight to save you, whatever it takes.”

  Thyra nestles closer to him. “I know you will. Still, we must never allow fear to rule our actions.”

  “Just remember the mirror is neither good nor evil,” Sephia says. “Any harm it causes is due to the evil in the hearts of those who wield it.”

  Anders frowns. “I have seen the face of the man who hopes to wield it, and I’m afraid it could prove evil indeed.”

  Christiane turns and brandishes her paring knife like a sword. “If it’s the sorcerer who started that fire, he is wicked beyond all hope.”

  “No one is beyond hope. I have seen ... ” Sephia’s gaze rests on me, sharp as a sword and unearthly as mist, before she transforms her expression and smiles brightly at Thyra and Kai “I have seen many changed in ways no one would expect.”

  “So, we pack and prepare?” Erik asks.

  Sephia taps his arm. “Yes. All of you.”

  He nods and heads for the front door. “I need to check on the horses.”

  Thyra and Kai join Anders and Gerda, who are collecting food from the pantry.

  After the front door slams, Sephia tilts her head, and glances at me. “This is your charge. Anders and Gerda have one another, as do Thyra and Kai. Erik needs you to watch over him.”

  “But who watches over me?” I ask, my tone more plaintive than I intended.

  Sephia’s smile is as mysterious as the moon. “We all will, Varna. And, perhaps, you will discover your own strength is sufficient, in the end.”

  WE DEPART AT DAYBREAK. Thyra rides Freya, while Erik and I ride the gray gelding and dun mare Sephia provided for us. Somehow, she is also able to whistle up additional horses for Kai and Anders. Gerda insists on riding Bae, who refuses to allow her to travel without him. Luki lopes along, ducking into the woods to follow us unseen whenever we encounter anyone else on the road.

  We don’t see many other travelers at first, but as we draw closer to the city a trickle of riders and carts turns into a steady stream of travelers. People of all ages appear, burdened under rucksacks and other bundles—walking as well as riding.

  “Headed in the wrong direction,” says one old woman, perched on the seat of brightly painted caravan. Her ancient horse, who looks more suited to pulling a plow, paws at the dirt as she tightens her hold on the reins. “Turn back now, if you have any sense.”

  Erik leans over his gelding’s neck to talk to her. “What do you mean? Is there trouble ahead? Did something happen in the city?”

  “Not the city.” The old woman fiddles with the whip laid across her lap. Her clothing, an odd mix of colorful patterns, layered gold necklaces, and chunky leather boots, identifies her as someone who wanders from fair to festival, providing entertainment or selling trinkets. “City’s fine, but out in the country, along the old River Road, there has been a mighty fierce fire, or so they tell me.”

  Erik straightens and casts a look back at the rest of us. “Fire?”

  “In one of the villages. Everything burnt to a cinder. That is why this lot’s taken to the road. I was already traveling—it’s what I do—but this bunch, they look like refugees to me.”

  A small hand reaches out of the window of the caravan. “Are we stopping?” asks a childish voice steeped in an accent I cannot place.

  “No. Get yourself back inside, missy, and close that curtain.”

  The hand disappears.

  “Sorry, nothing worse than an ungrateful child, eh?” The old woman looks us over. “So where are the likes of you headed? All these young folks, without a chaperone.” She makes a guttural noise of disapproval.

  Gerda flashes one of her sweetest smiles. “Our chaperones are behind us. They’re a bit slow.”

  The old woman cackles. “Or you have ridden fast to lose them. Yes, I can see the besotted looks on your faces. Having a little lovers’ adventure, are you?”

  Erik clears his throat. “Not exactly. Now, we must move on. Thank you for your information.”

  “You still headed that way?” The woman waves her whip in the direction of the city.

  “Yes. Good day to you.” Erik kicks his horse into a brisk trot, forcing the rest of us to keep pace.

  “Good luck to you!” yells the old woman. “Never say Madame Skarkazy did not warn you!”

  As we ride past the caravan, I peer at the window to see if I can spy the child inside, but I can’t see past the dusty black curtains.

  Pausing on the outskirts of the city, Anders suggests we take the River Road. “Just to check things out.”

  Erik’s grim expression betrays his hesitation. “I suppose we must.” He turns his horse onto the wider road.

  I ride up beside Thyra. “Did we lose Luki?”

  “No. He just likes to keep out of sight when we are close to civilization.” Thyra casts me a quick smile. “Don’t worry. He can track me anywhere.”

  We ride on, navigating through the river of travelers rolling in the opposite direction. Erik questions anyone who will talk to him, but we learn little more than the old woman told us.

  “Fires, just like the Opera House,” Anders says at one point.

  I glance at his taut face. “It could be something natural. Fires occur all the time.”

  “Right after Rask steals the mirror? That’s not likely.” Anders sighs and lapses into silence.

  He does not want to see another fire. Neither does Gerda, I suspect. I don’t want to face this possibility either, but if they ride on, so must I.

  A young man gripping a staff of rough wood stops us, waving us to side of the road. He’s covered head to foot in a fine gray powder, like the ashes left in a fireplace grate. “You should take care. There’s a village aflame just up the road. I barely escaped with my life. Thank God I was simply traveling through, and didn’t lose my home like those other poor souls.”

  “Does anyone know what started this fire?” Thyra urges Freya closer.

  He looks up and down and away from her, as if to avoid the question.

  “You do, apparently. Tell me.” Thyra’s tone could command a regiment.

  “It sounds crazy,” the young man replies, finally looking at her.

  “We’ve seen many strange things,” Gerda says. “We will not judge you.”

  Focusing on Gerda’s gentle face, the young man clutches his walking stick to his chest. “The Usurper. One of his battalions has apparently been camped on the outskirts of this town for some time. Until now, our army has always been able to fight them back. It’s been a standstill, with neither side gaining any ground. People in the villages around here, they took precautions, but the battles never touched them. Not ‘til today.” He swallows hard.

  Gerda guides Bae to stand near the young man. “It’s all right. We know how hard it is. We’ve seen horrors too.”

  The man shakes his head. “I’m not usually like this. I have worked my family’s farm all my life, dealt with lots of trouble, seen some things ... Nothing like this.” His fingers tighten on the st
aff. “It was just a day like any other, you see. Someone spotted the enemy troops on the hill overlooking the town. These folks, they’ve seen that before. Soon our men would appear to drive them back. Only, this time, they didn’t.”

  “The enemy has a new weapon?” Kai rides up beside Freya, his leg bumping Thyra’s thigh. Out of the corner of my eye I see Thyra clasp his outstretched fingers.

  “Yes, it must have been. I didn’t see it, but that’s the only explanation. I was inside, talking to a man about a price for my corn crop, when a great light blazed through the windows. Then there was fire, flames everywhere, and smoke so thick I had to use my hands to feel my way to the back door. I got outside, I saw ...” He rubs at his eyes with the back of one sooty hand. “I saw terrible things. So I ran. I just ran, until I made my way to this road. Now I am walking home. I need to get home. Need to see it.”

  “Of course.” Thyra’s voice is now as gentle as Gerda’s. “We will not keep you. Thank you for your time.”

  “Do not go there.” The young man reaches up and grabs Bae’s halter, staring into the reindeer’s eyes as if he’s guessed Bae’s secret. “Listen to me. Do not take them there.”

  Bae just butts the young man’s shoulder with his muzzle, pushing him away.

  Gerda turns to look at us. “We must.”

  “Yes.” Anders kicks his horse into a trot.

  We leave the young man behind, swallowed up by the crowd of refugees, and follow Anders.

  The flow of travelers slows as we ride on. Kai shades his eyes with one hand and surveys the road ahead of us. “I suppose everyone who needed to get out has already done so.”

  Gerda wrinkles her nose. “The fire. I can smell it.”

  An acrid scent permeates the air, as ashes drift and settle on our hair and clothing like dark flakes of snow. We round a corner and spy the remains of a small village.

  The smell is worse. It’s the terrible odor of burnt flesh.

  “Ride on,” Erik says. “We’ll ask our questions in the next village. No one here can tell us anything.”

  We stay on the main road, but as we pass the village I can’t escape the sight of houses and shops fallen to pieces. Their stone foundations rise up like broken teeth amid drifts of bone-white ash.