Scepter of Fire

by Victoria Gilbert

  A mage. A wizard. A sorcerer. Rask must be one or all of these things. I recall Gerda’s tales of the mage Mael Voss and shiver.

  “Why the deception? Why pretend to be a doddering old man?”

  Heat flushes my face. Why stand close, why guide my hands, why breathe upon the back of my neck? You who look like that, who exude sensuality like a scent?

  Sten Rask’s dark eyes are cool and unreadable as stones. “So I could get close to you and your family without drawing the notice of certain ... individuals.”

  “My family?” I clench my fists at my sides. “Why my family?”

  “Your sister Gerda in particular. You see, I think she knows more about the location of a particular enchanted object than she lets on. I’d hoped to convince her to speak with me—a harmless, doddering old man. But matters did not go exactly as I planned. For one thing, Nels Leth could not bring himself to give her that potion, poor fool.”

  As I take two steps back my cloak slips off my shoulders. I ignore it. “You search for the enchanted mirror Thyra Winther hid from the world. Why? For what purpose?”

  “Yes, I seek the mirror. Now that it is been made whole, its considerable powers may be wielded once again.”

  “By you?”

  “Hopefully. That is to say, I believe I can do so. Though in the service of someone else—the emperor you call the Usurper.”

  The light wind rustling the new leaves roars in my ears like the ocean. “You serve our enemy? You would betray your own country?”

  “It is not my country, but that is neither here nor there. This is simply politics, and it’s obvious you know nothing of such matters, my dear. As it happens, the emperor’s plans coincide with my own desires.”

  I stare into Sten Rask’s handsome face and spit.

  Rask whips a silk handkerchief from his inside coat pocket and calmly wipes his face. “Really, Varna? Frankly, I have always admired your pragmatism. Drama does not suit you.”

  I refuse to look away from his amused gaze. “I don’t care what you do to me, I will protect Gerda. Or at least warn her.”

  “I thought you might, which would be unfortunate, since she could inform others who may have the power to thwart my quest. No, I do not think such a plan will suit my purposes. I will tell you what we shall do instead.” He circles me, pausing long enough to pull my cloak over my quivering shoulders. “I will allow you to help your soldier friends escape, as I have no quarrel with them, but when they are safely away, you will return with Gerda and allow me to question her.”

  “I will not.”

  “You will, unless you want me to raise an alarm that will bring every enemy soldier to the door of your friends’ hiding place. Consider as well—you and Gerda out so late, in the company of strange young men—what will the town think? Not to mention the enemy? On the other hand, in my scenario everyone is protected. Erik Stahl and Anders Nygaard can escape to safety, and I—in my Albrecht form, of course—can swear you and Gerda were working with me all night. You walked out to view the full moon and stumbled over an injured traveler. You brought him to me and helped bind his wounds before we sent him on his way.” Rask languidly lifts one olive-skinned hand and brushes a lock of black hair from his eyes. “So you see, my dear, my plan is the best option. The soldiers still escape, yet no one can accuse you of aiding them, or any other impropriety.”

  “What will you do with Gerda?”

  “Simply question her. Help her to remember. Then return her home, no harm done.”

  The moon slips behind a bank of clouds. I cannot read Rask’s expression, yet his plan does sound sensible, and might be the only way to save Erik and Anders.

  “I will agree to those terms. Where should we meet you?” I turn from him and step onto the trail that leads to the young soldiers’ hiding place.

  “At my cottage, of course. Ah yes, I did steal it from you. I apologize.”

  I spin on my heel and glare at Rask. “You used magic to fake the will and those letters?”

  His grin displays perfect, white teeth. “No. I simply had them forged. I do not believe in using magic when human trickery will do. It’s much more efficient.”

  “You never met Dame Margaret, did you?”

  “I did not, but hear she was an estimable woman. Now, don’t pout, my dear. I will provide documents to transfer the cottage and its grounds to you before I leave town.”

  Pout? I dig my boots into the dirt to avoid flying at him. After viewing him as old Albrecht for so long, I must rethink every action. It’s likely Rask has the power to reduce me to cinders where I stand.

  “I will bring Gerda to you when the young men are safe,” I call out, not looking at the sorcerer before I stride down the narrow track.

  When I do glance back, there is no one on the path.

  Pressing my hand against the rough bark of a pine, I pause to catch my breath. I cannot risk Erik and Anders learning of my encounter with Sten Rask. They will refuse to go if they think Gerda is in any danger.

  Gerda in danger ... A thought buzzes in my mind like a horsefly. What was it Rask said? Something about Gerda contacting others who could destroy his plans. Which I know she will do if Rask sends her home after questioning her. She will inform Kai, or Thyra, or both, and they will contact the enchantress Sephia, who protected Gerda and aided in the destruction of Mael Voss’s mad plans.

  Varna, you idiot. Rask will never release Gerda unharmed. You sensed that—the threat beneath his honeyed words. He will transform her into a duckling first.

  Or kill her.

  I straighten and run toward the door of the abandoned cottage.

  I must convince Erik and Anders to leave. To take Nels’s boat and head to the river. To flee this place.

  And take Gerda with them.

  ANDERS INSISTS HE STAY behind.

  “I will only slow you down,” he tells Erik. “I can barely stand, much less walk any distance, even with a cane.”

  Erik doesn’t look up as he shoves items into a large rucksack. “Stop being an idiot. I will carry you if I must. You know I can.”

  “Varna, tell him how foolish it is to take me.” Anders, already dressed in traveling clothes and boots—after much tugging and swearing by Erik—sits on his makeshift bed. He looks to me with pleading eyes.

  “I will do no such thing. You both must escape. Otherwise, one might betray the other. They won’t be looking for you on the river, but if they hear of a boat ... ”

  Erik casts me an approving glance. “You won’t need your legs, Anders. Your arms can still work an oar. Speaking of which, I think I spy Gerda. There, through the window.”

  I go to the door to let her in. She clutches the heavy wooden oars with both arms, balancing the paddles against her shoulder.

  “Finally.” She lowers the oars to the floor before collapsing beside them.

  “Where’s this Nels fellow?” asks Erik. “He should’ve helped you carry those.”

  “I told him to stay home. I didn’t want to involve him any more than necessary.” Gerda pulls the pins from her hair. “This way he can claim someone stole the oars along with the boat.”

  She looks like a child, sitting there on the floor with her skirts spread about her and her braids falling below her shoulders. Her round face is flushed pink from exertion.

  I won’t allow her to be harmed. No matter what. “I bet you had to do some talking to keep him from coming with you. Did you promise to marry him or something?”

  “I said I would think about it.” Gerda gathers up her skirts and rises to her feet.

  Anders examines his fingernails. The color brightening his face moments ago has bled away.

  Erik grabs a sheepskin flask from the table. “I need to head out back to fill this. The river is all right in a pinch, but I prefer well water.” He strides out the door.

  I follow, leaving Gerda and Anders staring at one another.

  “Wait up, I must ask you something.” I grab Erik’s coat sleeve.

/>   He pauses, one hand on the winch, and gazes down at me. “What is it? Look, there’s nothing I can do about the situation with Anders and Gerda. Fortunately, we’re leaving, so there’s an end to it.”

  I release my grip. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. I want you to take Gerda with you.”

  Erik mutters some obscenity under his breath. “Impossible. It is a dangerous trip, worse if we’re caught by the enemy, which is quite likely. You must also think of Gerda’s reputation.”

  “Oh, reputation.” I snap my fingers under his nose. “It is her life I am worried about.”

  “Now look,” Erik avoids my gaze as he fills the flask with water. “I know Gerda has a big heart, but no one has ever died of love. She will get over Anders in time.”

  “That is not what I mean.” I pinch Erik’s lower arm. “Look at me. I’m talking about her life, not some silly love-sickness. She’s in real danger if she stays here. You must take her with you.”

  Erik studies me for a moment. “You are serious, I can see it in your face. Still, what are Anders and I to do with her? We can’t drag her into some military camp.”

  In my panic to get Gerda out of the clutches of Sten Rask, I have not given thought to this. I close my eyes for a second, recalling the stories Gerda told of her previous travels.

  “The Strykers!” I register Erik’s astonishment and lower my voice. “You know them, certainly.”

  “I know of them. I’m not exactly on close terms with lumber barons.”

  “Gerda is. Yes, that is perfect—she said they had a townhouse in the city. Get Gerda there, and someone will surely look out for her. Even if it’s only the servants, if you drop Clara Stryker’s name, that should work. And Kai—you know, the friend she mentioned at the University? He will help too, if needed.”

  Erik lays the filled water flask on the edge of the well and takes hold of my upper arms. “Varna, you are blathering like a madwoman. Yes, I might be able to get Gerda to the city. Honestly, it would be easier for me to disappear there than in the woods. I know the city well enough for Anders and I to hide, at least until we sort out the deserter issue. I even have friends who would help.” He shakes me gently. “That doesn’t answer my question, though. Gerda’s life is in danger? Why?”

  “I cannot tell you.”

  “Does she know?”

  “No.”

  Erik stares into my eyes for a moment before releasing me and stepping back. “Why not?”

  I shake my head. “If she knew, she would likely do the very thing guaranteed to endanger her further. I’m sorry to be so cryptic, but you must trust me.”

  “It seems I am always forced to do so.” Erik picks up the sheepskin flask and tucks it into the inner pocket of his long coat. “Very well, we will take her along if we can. But what about clothes and such? She’ll have nothing.”

  “The Strykers can provide everything she needs. It will only be a few days before you can leave her in their care.”

  “I hope.” Erik turns to head back to the cottage. “I cannot give you any absolute guarantees.”

  I follow him. “I know. But getting her away from here will ... ”

  Erik spins around and clamps his hand over my mouth. “Someone is coming. Did you tell anyone we were leaving tonight?”

  I grab his little finger and jerk it back, forcing him to remove his hand. “No, of course not.”

  This is not precisely true. Sten Rask knows. Still, he said he would allow Erik and Anders to escape.

  And you can trust Rask? The man who has lied to you for months?

  “How do you know someone is coming? I hear nothing,” I whisper, matching Erik’s stealthy movements as we make our way back to the cottage.

  “Lights, in the distance, bobbing through those trees.” Erik grabs my hand and pulls me along. “Come, we must get out of here right now. I can carry Anders, but it will slow me down. How far to this Upper Branch you mentioned?”

  “Not far. A few minutes.”

  “We might make it then.”

  Erik says nothing more until we are back inside the cottage. Slinging the rucksack over one shoulder, he directs Gerda and me to each take up an oar. He shoves the cane into his bag before hoisting Anders to his feet.

  “Is there some rush?” Anders leans heavily against Erik’s arm. “Truly, if I’m going to slow you down enough to get captured, you should leave me.”

  “Shut up and stay still.” Erik swings the smaller man up and over his shoulder, toting Anders like a sack of grain. “Gerda, can you lead the way? As quietly as possible, please.”

  Gerda nods and heads outside. I hang back to hold open the door. As Erik walks past I pat Anders’s shoulder. “Hang in there.”

  “I must, it seems,” replies Anders, pushing his hands against Erik’s broad back in order to lift his head.

  “Hush,” Erik says.

  We follow Gerda through the woods. For a few minutes, all seems well, until a rumble of voices breaks the silence.

  “There they are!” shouts someone.

  A shadowy mass of bodies is at our heels. They carry torches that bob like candles set adrift on the sea.

  “Pick up the pace!” I yell at Erik.

  He increases his stride, pulling ahead of Gerda, who points before her with her free hand.

  “The river is just around the bend.” She holds out the oar.

  Erik adjusts his grip on Anders and grabs the wooden paddle with his right hand.

  I shove my skirts into my waistband, lifting them almost to my knees. The hell with modesty, I must reach Erik and hand him the other oar.

  I also must get Gerda into that boat.

  The roar of mingled voices grows louder, along with the crunch of boots breaking through underbrush. I reach the stream bank as Erik crab-walks to the water, his boots sliding on the damp ground. Somehow, he keeps his balance and stays upright, but Anders’s white face betrays the pain inflicted by this maneuver.

  Thank God, Nels Leth’s small wooden boat is there, its back half bobbing in the water and its prow perched on the bank. Erik deposits Anders in the boat, lowering him gently onto one of the plank benches. He lays the oar beside Anders and glances up at me.

  “I need the other one. Quickly, we must push off.” Erik throws the rucksack into the boat.

  I stand at the top of the bank and extend the oar. “Gerda, take it to him. You are more agile.”

  Gerda shoots me a dubious look, but grabs the paddle and makes her way down the bank. She reaches the boat and hands Erik the oar as a group of villagers, flanked by enemy soldiers, bursts though the cluster of trees behind me.

  “There!” screeches Inga Leth. Of course she would be leading the mob.

  I turn and dig my boots into the damp ground. Placing my hands on my hips, I confront the crowd.

  Lit by the torches, their faces look like macabre masks. I scan the group as one of the enemy soldiers barks out an order. Two of his compatriots raise their muskets.

  “Wait!” screams a familiar voice.

  Mother shoves her way to the front. Her cap is askew and her hair has sprung free from its pins, allowing her braids to flop onto her shoulders. For a moment, with her cheeks rosy from exertion, she looks like Gerda.

  “Please stop, these are my daughters.” Mother lays her hand on the commander’s arm.

  “They aid our enemy,” he replies, speaking our language with a thick accent. “They are traitors.”

  “No, misguided. Just foolish girls.” Mother grips the commander’s arm and gazes up into his face, her blue eyes brimming with tears. “When I told you about the soldiers, I did not think my daughters would be with them.”

  “You told them?” I can barely form the words. I thought someone else had seen Erik in the woods, or overheard the twins chattering, or something. I never expected my own mother to betray us.

  The commander motions for his men to lower their weapons. “No shooting the women. We only want the soldiers.”

&nb
sp; Inga Leth spits on the ground. “Take them all. Thieves—stealing my son’s boat.”

  “No.” The commander uses his free hand to shove Inga behind him.

  I realize Nels is not part of the crowd and wonder how he managed to avoid joining the mob.

  Mother turns her pleading gaze on me. “I didn’t know you were with them. You were supposed to be in bed.”

  “How did you know we were here, near this place? Did the twins follow us, the little snitches?” There’s a splash as Erik shoves the boat into the water. If I can stall the mob long enough ...

  Mother shakes her head. “No, I guessed you would be in the woods. You had to pass this way to get to Master Albrecht’s cottage, and no one saw you elsewhere, so I thought ... I simply guessed.”

  The shuffle of boots on the leaf-strewn ground grows louder, along with the murmuring of the crowd. Someone shouts something about traitors and whores.

  “No, no, what are you doing?” Gerda’s voice cuts through the rumble.

  I glance over my shoulder.

  Erik hauls Gerda into the boat. “Sit or we will tip.”

  “See,” my mother points toward the water. “They are kidnapping my Gerda!”

  The commander barks another order. His soldiers advance on me.

  When I take a step back my boots slip on the slick leaves and I fall. As I tumble down the bank, my skirt and petticoat rumple up to my waist, exposing my pantaloons.

  This does not matter. Broken bones matter. Clutch your knees to your chest and roll.

  I land at the pointed end of the boat, which still touches the shore. I cannot tell if the screams I hear are coming from Gerda or my mother, or both. I uncurl and sit up, my muddy garments clinging to my body.

  A shot rings out and an object whizzes over my head.

  “Get down!” Erik’s voice roars over the noise of the mob.

  I scramble to my knees. Erik shoves Gerda to the bottom of the boat, where he has already deposited Anders.

  More gunshots pierce through my mother’s shrieking and the shouting of the crowd.

  “In the boat!” Erik’s green eyes flash as he turns his gaze on me. “In the boat now!”