Scepter of Fire

by Victoria Gilbert

  Men’s robes, cut in an old style, in sizes that fit both large-boned Erik and slight Anders? I cast a look at Sephia as she comes through the front door, carrying an armful of wood. Her lilac gown is perfectly dry.

  Sephia’s smile lights the room. “You look splendid. I chose wisely.”

  Unsure if she means us or the clothes, I decide to swallow my questions for now. “We left our wet clothing on the floor, but if you want me to hang it outside ... ”

  Sephia crosses to her black stove and stuffs the kindling into the firebox. “No, you sit and rest.”

  I choose a wooden rocker, while Gerda sits beside Anders on the settee. Erik slumps into a deep armchair. Although he faces me, his eyes are on our hostess.

  Sephia strikes no match, but the kindling bursts into flame. She reaches for a copper kettle dangling from a hook sunk into one of the ceiling beams. “I imagine some tea would be welcome, but I must cut a few herbs from my garden—would you assist me, Varna?”

  I spring to my feet and cross the room, noticing as I pass how Anders stares at Gerda. Her head’s down, but I spy a rosy blush rising in her cheeks. “Trouble, trouble,” I mutter, as I follow Sephia out the back door.

  Sephia smiles. “It will be all right. Come into my garden, Varna.”

  I gasp and clutch the doorframe. The enclosed garden is a brilliant tapestry woven of vegetables, fruit trees, and flowers. Roses from purest white to deepest crimson drape the stone walls, their green vines buzzing with honeybees. The scent of all these growing things is overpowering. I press the back of my hand against my forehead.

  I stumble after Sephia as she gracefully navigates paths that wind like emerald streams through the garden. Miniature chamomile covers the paths, soft as feathers under my bare feet, the sharp scent rising with each step. Sephia pauses at one corner of the garden.

  It’s a bed of lush and vibrant herbs. What I wouldn’t give for such a garden! It could supply me with everything needed to concoct healing potions and ointments. I recognize most of the plants, although not all, and make a mental note to query Sephia later.

  We gather mint and beebalm and a few sprigs of lemon verbena, along with a cutting of the taller form of chamomile. I raise my fistful of herbs to my nose, breathing in the luscious scents. It seems to clear my head.

  “You cannot grow all this without some sort of magic.” I cast one longing look at the garden before following Sephia back into her cottage.

  “That is true.” Sephia drops her herbs on the wooden counter near her stove. “I am, as you know, an enchantress. But I prefer to use my powers only when necessary, unlike many others of my kind.”

  “Are there many others?” I strip the flowers and leaves from the stems of the herbs, tossing the foliage into a small copper bowl.

  “Not so many. Not anymore.” Sephia presses the leaves and flowers into a pewter tea ball shaped like a large acorn. She dunks the ball into the hot water in the kettle before turning to me. “You have heard Gerda speak of Mael Voss.”

  “Yes. He stole young girls from villages like mine and transformed them into Snow Queens, hoping they could repair some shattered mirror.” I meet Sephia’s steady gaze. “But only Thyra Winther could reconstruct the mirror, with the help of Kai Thorsen. Gerda was present when the mirror was made whole.”

  “Yes, Gerda was there.” Sephia’s eyes glitter like emeralds. “Didn’t she tell you about her part in the mirror’s restoration?”

  “No.” My sister has fallen asleep, her golden head resting on Anders’s shoulder. A little smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. Anders is also asleep, as is Erik. They look so peaceful ...

  I whip my head around. “Have you enchanted them?”

  “Only for a moment.” Sephia lays one slender hand on my shoulder. “Varna, you should ask Gerda what transpired that day. Ask her about her tears. It is important you understand what happened—why there are those who believe Gerda holds a key to the mirror’s location.”

  I step back. “What do you know?”

  “I know someone seeks the mirror. I can feel it. Someone who wishes to use its power for evil.” Sephia sighs. “Such ancient power, neither good nor evil, is sadly always a danger to our world.”

  I study Sephia’s lovely face for a moment. The honesty in her eyes spurs me to speak freely. “There is someone. He impersonated an old healer and took over my former mentor’s home and practice. I even studied with him for a time.” I shake my head. “I did not know who he was, I swear.”

  “Of course not.” Sephia’s voice is as gentle as the brush of her hand against my cheek. “Do not blame yourself. You were tricked by a sorcerer who wields great power. Maintaining such a transformation is extremely difficult.”

  “He revealed himself to me right before we escaped with Erik and Anders. It’s why I forced Gerda to go with them, and why I joined them when she would not leave without me.” To my embarrassment, I realize tears are sliding down my cheeks. “He threatened Gerda. He thinks she knows where the mirror is hidden, and is determined to use her to find it. I think”—I wipe away the tears with the back of my hand—“I am afraid he will kill her.”

  “He will not.” Sephia hugs me to her breast. “Do not worry. I will not allow harm to come to Gerda, not if I have any power to prevent it. Now”—she pulls away while still holding onto my arms—“did he give you his name, this sorcerer?”

  “Sten Rask.”

  Sephia’s eyes betray an emotion that clenches my hands at my sides.

  Fear. She is afraid. Oh, dear Lord, if this enchantress is afraid of Rask, what are we to do?

  “Do you know him?” I fight to keep my voice calm.

  “No. I’ve heard of him, but we have never met.” Sephia tosses her auburn hair as if shaking something from her mind. When she looks back at me, her face is perfectly composed. “I met his mentor once, the sorceress who took him in and taught him the ways of magic. She calls herself the Lady Dulcia. If Sten Rask is anywhere near as skilled as she, he is a serious threat.”

  “She is powerful?”

  “Very. And dangerous, although she appears as delicate and lovely as a flower. You would think her as innocent as Gerda, were you to meet her. Which I hope you never do.”

  The whistle of the tea kettle pierces the silence following Sephia’s words.

  Erik leaps to his feet. “What is that?”

  “Just the kettle,” calls out Sephia in a bright voice. She busies herself pouring tea into four ceramic mugs.

  Gerda sits up and rubs at her eyes. “Was I asleep?”

  “We all were, I think.” Anders lifts his arm from Gerda’s shoulder.

  Erik eyes me with suspicion. “Except for Varna.”

  I grab two of the mugs and head back to the rocking chair, handing Erik his tea before I sit down. “I was gathering herbs.”

  “Now, drink up.” Sephia crosses the room with the other two mugs and hands them to Anders and Gerda.

  “You’re not having any?” Anders stares into the pale green liquid.

  “No, but I was not dunked in the river.” Sephia sits on the raised stone hearth. “Go on, it is not some magical potion. It is tea. Varna watched me make it, if you are concerned.”

  I take a sip. “Just tea.”

  Erik sits up straighter in his chair. “One thing I don’t understand,” he says, after a long swallow. “How did you guess we were in trouble, Sephia? No one knew we were on the river. At least, no one who could tell you.”

  “Ah, there you are wrong.” Sephia’s face glows, as if lit from within. “Someone did know, and he warned me.” She crosses her hands in her lap. “He waits outside, on the edge of the clearing. Go and take a look, Gerda.”

  Gerda sets down her mug and jumps to her feet. “Bae?”

  “Yes,” replies Sephia, as Gerda runs to look out the front window.

  “The reindeer?” Anders furrows his brow. “How could he tell you anything? I mean, reindeer do not speak.”

  “Is that so?�
�� Sephia’s voice is laced with amusement.

  Erik stands and hands me his mug before striding across the room. He flings open the front door. Gerda is instantly at his side.

  Bae pokes his muzzle inside until he is eye-to-eye with both of them.

  “Hello, Master Erik,” says the reindeer.

  Erik stumbles, tripping on the hem of his robe and landing, flat on his backside, on the floor.

  Gerda giggles. Erik shoots her a sharp look, then stares at the reindeer.

  “It talks.”

  Gerda fights back more laughter. “Yes.”

  “It talks?” Anders slides to edge of the settee, his hazel eyes round as coins.

  “Yes. Bae was enchanted by the mage Mael Voss. He can speak and”—I look to Gerda, who nods her head—“he can also fly.”

  Erik makes some unintelligible comment.

  Anders stares at Gerda with a question in his eyes. “Voss is dead. I thought his enchantments died with him.”

  So he knows? And you thought she only shared the details with you, did you, Varna? Seems she told Anders all about her journey to find Kai. I finish off my tea in one swallow.

  Bae dips his shaggy head. “I was able to decide, in the moment of the mage’s passing, whether to break his enchantment or remain as he made me. I choose to stay as I am, in case Miss Gerda ever needed my help.”

  “And a good thing you did, my friend.” Sephia rises to her feet and crosses to the door to rub Bae’s velvety nose. “Now, go rest under the trees. I have provided water and hay for you.”

  “Thank you, Mistress Sephia.” After a gentle bump of his muzzle against Gerda’s shoulder, Bae backs away from the door and lumbers toward the woods.

  Erik rises to his feet. “This is astonishing.” He offers his arm to Sephia. “May I escort you back to your chair, my lady? I think I will pace for a bit to clear my head. I’m not used to such enchantments.” The smile he turns on her clearly indicates he includes her in the things he finds entrancing.

  Sephia’s laughter cascades like a string of sleigh bells. “You have recovered quickly, Erik Stahl.”

  Erik leads her to the armchair where she sits down and arranges her lilac gown until it falls in perfect folds to her feet. “I think you should stay here for the night. Rest, then set off for the city. It is probably best if you travel to a place where you can mingle with a large crowd of people, and I believe Erik and Anders may have friends there.”

  “And Kai is there.” Gerda perches back on the settee. “He’ll help us if we ask, I’m sure.”

  Sephia nods. “Kai Thorsen could prove a useful ally.”

  Erik pauses in his pacing. “Some University scholar? How can he help?”

  “Do not underestimate Kai, or his friends,” replies Sephia with a smile. “Finish your tea, Anders. I put something special in your cup.”

  “So that’s why I feel less pain.” Anders stretches out his injured leg. “Can you do anything about this?”

  “Sorry, no. At this point I can do more than Varna has done.” Sephia leans back into the cushions of the armchair. “Tell me about yourselves, Erik and Anders. I would like to know more.”

  As the men take turns talking, I stand and walk to the alcove. “Excuse me, I believe I will hang our wet clothes.” I pull back the curtain and gather up our cast-off garment, then pause beside the settee to collect the men’s clothing. “No, Sephia, please sit and talk. I will only be a minute.”

  I push my way through the front door, half-expecting Gerda to follow. She does not, and I realize why—Anders is talking about making shoes for the Opera dancers, and she’s hanging on his every word.

  Oh, Gerda, you are skating too fast on a thin-iced pond.

  I sigh and cross the clearing to reach a low branch I spied earlier, nodding to Bae who stands behind the front line of trees, his head down in a water bucket. I drape our damp clothing over the tree limb, cursing the fact I have lost my stockings and boots. Hopefully, Sephia can loan me something before we depart for the city.

  A rustling in the underbrush makes me look up, as Bae lifts his head and stares into the woods.

  A cloaked and hooded figure, holding the halter of a dark horse, is visible between the layered rows of trees. I press my lips together to keep from crying out.

  Bae seems to have no fear of this stranger. He simply shakes his heavy head and resumes eating hay.

  A creature appears at the stranger’s side and stares at me with golden eyes. It is the wolf.

  I back away, concentrating on each step. When I reach the front door of the cottage, the stranger lifts one pale hand and presses a forefinger to her lips.

  I shove the door open and stumble into the cottage as Erik finishes recounting some story that elicits laughter from the others.

  “All done?” Sephia’s bright smile fades as she studies me. “Come and sit down. You need rest too.”

  Her green eyes remain fixed on my face, even as Anders urges Gerda to tell some humorous anecdotes about our family.

  I know who is out there. Sephia’s unspoken words ring in my head. It is all right, Varna. No harm will come to you, or Gerda, from that quarter.

  Nodding to indicate my understanding, I sit in the wooden chair and rock back and forth, until I can speak without betraying Sephia, or the mysterious stranger.

  Chapter Nine: Rose and Flame

  SEPHIA WAKES US AS soon as the sun peeps over the mountains. Having insisted Anders take the bed, Gerda and I crawl out of the pile of downy comforters Sephia produced from the wardrobe—an object I suspect possesses magical properties. Erik, who fell asleep in the armchair, stretches before jumping to his feet. As for Sephia—I’m not sure where she slept, or if she slept at all. Based on the opening and closing of the front door, I know she left the cottage at some point in the night. She claims it was to retrieve our clothes, but I suspect it was to meet with the cloaked stranger lurking in the woods.

  Still, what do I know of the habits of an enchantress? Perhaps she no longer requires sleep, just as she seems to survive without food. She provides an ample breakfast of fried potatoes along with fruit harvested from her trees, yet does not sit down to eat.

  “I do not have time right now. I need to pack some food for your trip,” she says, when Erik questions her.

  He raises his eyebrows and digs into his potatoes without another word.

  We change back into our old clothes as soon as we finish breakfast. I hate giving up the sunflower gown, although I know it’s impractical for travel.

  Sephia sticks her head around the curtain as I finish lacing Gerda’s bodice.

  “I have boots and stockings for you, Varna. And please, keep the gowns. I will give you each a rucksack to carry them, along with some other clothes. More practical than the gowns, of course.”

  “Thank you, Sephia.” Gerda shoves back the curtain and hugs the enchantress. “You’ve always been my guardian angel.”

  “Angel? No, far from that. Still, thank you.” Sephia kisses Gerda on the forehead.

  Gerda smiles and heads into the main room to assist Anders with his boots and cloak.

  “Thank you.” I bob an awkward curtsey. “You’ve been more than gracious. Truthfully”— I look up into the enchantress’s eyes—“I wish I could stay with you. Learn about your garden, study all the herbs, and discover what you know of healing. Might I do that, someday? Come back, when we are sure Anders and Erik are out of danger and Gerda is safe?”

  Sephia’s expression grows unexpectedly solemn. “I believe you must walk another path, Varna Lund. If I am wrong, yes—please return. If you find yourself alone, and all those you care about safe, come back to me.”

  I nod. I will be alone someday, and soon. Gerda will find a husband, as will my other sisters. Erik and Anders will return to their old lives, and my mother will find joy in the children Gerda and the twins will surely have. Sephia may think I possess some other destiny, but I doubt this. I will return to this cottage, and learn all I can, and�
��if Sephia refuses to take me as her apprentice—at least carry this knowledge back to my village, where I will take possession of Dame Margaret’s cottage and the position of healer.

  If Sten Rask did not lie and gives me back what should be mine.

  I frown and flop down on the bed to pull on my new stockings and boots.

  When we leave the cottage, Sephia walks outside and points toward a wooded path that apparently intersects with a back road. “It will lead you to the city, although in a roundabout fashion. Still, I do not think it wise for you to use the highway.”

  “No, we need to stay away from roads heavily traveled by the enemy.” Erik hoists his rucksack over his shoulder. “Are you sure you can walk?” he asks Anders, who stands beside Gerda, leaning heavily on his wolf-head cane.

  “Yes. It’s still difficult, but my pain has lessened.” Anders glances at Sephia. “I suspect the medicine you gave me includes more than a touch of magic.”

  “It could be.” Sephia taps him on the arm. “There is more, in bottles I have stowed in Erik’s rucksack. Make sure you add a bit to your tea or coffee from time to time.”

  Anders’s smile lights up his face. “Thank you.”

  Gerda whistles for Bae, who steps forward, shaking his head. “You need not walk, Anders. Allow Bae to carry you.” She grabs the reindeer’s leather halter and pulls his face close to hers. “Is that all right with you, old friend?”

  “Yes, little miss. It is the wisest thing, all in all.”

  Erik helps Anders up onto Bae’s broad back and we depart, Gerda waving farewell to Sephia and promising to visit soon.

  Our travel is blessedly uneventful. We walk throughout the day, reaching the road Sephia mentioned—a packed-dirt track riddled with ruts—and following it west.

  As the sun slides behind the mountains, Erik suggests we make camp for the night. Abandoning the road, we settle in a small clearing surrounded by a hedge of blackberry vines, and search our rucksacks for food. I realize Sephia has provided us with blankets and other supplies along with a change of clothes.