Scepter of Fire

by Victoria Gilbert

  I shake my head. “I must stay. She asked me to sit with her. I can’t do anything else, you see, except sit with her.”

  Erik moves a little closer. “You have done enough. More than enough. For her, for all of them. Your friend is already gone. Now you need to come with me.”

  I glance down at the woman by my side. She is dead. I have seen enough death to know.

  “I just want to sit here a little while longer.”

  “No, Varna. This building is not sound. It could collapse any minute. Stand up, grab your bag, and walk toward me.” Erik holds out his hand.

  I lean over and kiss the woman’s forehead and close her eyes. Sliding away from her limp body, I crawl to a spot where one post still stands, broken at waist-height. It’s just tall enough for me to pull myself to my feet.

  As soon as my burnt foot hits the ground, I cry out and stumble, falling forward on my hands and knees.

  Fingers reach under my armpits, and strong hands lift me, then swing me up to cradle me in well-muscled arms. Erik has come to find me. To rescue me. I bury my face in his shirt, which smells of smoke and sweat.

  “What have you done, Varna?” He clutches me tighter as he picks his way through the rubble. “Your foot is burnt so badly. Where is your boot?”

  “Lost,” I mumble into the folds of his shirt. A breeze stirs my tangled hair “Where are you taking me?”

  He doesn’t break his stride. “Somewhere safe.”

  “There might be more people. I need to help them.” My voice sounds odd, like sandpaper rasping over wood.

  “You have helped already. More than enough. More than anyone should ever be asked to help.” Erik adjusts his arms so I can rest my head on his shoulder.

  “Never enough. It is never enough.”

  “It will have to do,” he replies. “Now, just so you know, we are not going back to the camp. I’ve already sent the others away. I told them I would come back for you. Your sister and Thyra argued with me, of course.”

  Safe in his arms, I allow myself a little chuckle.

  “Yes, you can laugh, although it was not funny at the time.”

  Erik carries me for some time. I drift in and out of consciousness, until a thought flashes through my mind. He said he told the others. “Where are they? The others?”

  “They are safe. We’ll meet up with them tomorrow. I told them to wait for us.”

  “You were so sure you would find me?”

  “Not sure, simply determined to take the village apart, stone by crumbled stone, if necessary. Fortunately,” he adds, “there were people who told me you were alive. Told me all about you, as a matter of fact—what you did, what they thought of you.”

  “Hope it wasn’t too bad.” We pause before the doorway to what looks like a shepherd’s hut. My injured foot, swinging, brushes the door frame and a squeak escapes my parched lips.

  “Sorry.” Erik ducks his head to enter. “No, it was not bad. It was ... illuminating.”

  The hut is a round structure, like a squat stone tower. There are no windows, but one section of the thatched roof has been left unfinished, creating an opening. Erik must have carried me some distance from the village, because there’s no smoke blurring the dark sky. It’s night again, which means an entire day passed amid that devastation.

  Erik deposits me on a pile of quilts covering a narrow cot, careful to prop up my foot with an extra blanket. “Do you have anything in your supplies we can use?” He removes my remaining boot.

  “Yes, bring me the bag. There’s some ointment I can rub into the burn.”

  “That I can, you mean.” Erik hands me my rucksack and waits while I locate the ointment.

  I struggle to sit up. “I can manage.”

  Erik pushes me back. “Lie still. I may not be a healer, but I can handle this. First, a little wash up wouldn’t hurt.” He pulls his water flask and a clean handkerchief from his coat pocket. Soaking the cloth, he kneels at the bottom of the bed and wipes the dirt from my foot.

  “Does hurt,” I say, between gritted teeth.

  “Do you need something to bite down on?” He rubs the burn ointment into my damaged flesh.

  “Your hand?”

  Erik’s laugh is only a low rumble, but I hear it, all the same.

  “Done.” He sits back on his heels. “Now, what about the pain? Do you have something for that in your bag?”

  “There’s nothing left.”

  “Pity.” Eris stands and dusts off his breeches. He digs around in my bag, finds another clean bit of bandage, and pours some water over it.

  “What’s that for?” I push myself up on my elbows.

  “I thought you might feel better with some of that grime removed.” He sits on the edge of the cot and pushes me down again. “Relax.”

  I frown, but close my eyes and allow him to scrub the ash and sweat from my face. It does feel better.

  As he wipes my neck, I open my eyes and look up into his face.

  Odd. He studies you with such intensity, Varna. Like he’s trying to figure something out—uncover some secret that eludes him.

  “I must look rough. It feels like every inch of my skin is covered in scratches.”

  He smooths my hair away from my face, tucking several tangled strands behind my ears.

  “I need a comb. Do you have one of those stashed in that bottomless sack as well?”

  “I do, but draw the line at you combing my hair.”

  “Why?” Erik sits back, balling up the dirty cloth and tossing it onto the dirt floor.

  “It seems a little outside your experience.”

  “Nonsense. I have two younger sisters. I’ve combed and brushed their hair plenty of times.” He turns so I can’t read his face. “My mother, you see, was always busy with the store.”

  “It’s in the side pocket.”

  Erik brandishes the pewter comb. “Here, let me help you sit up for a minute.” He settles onto the bed behind my back, allowing me to lean against his right side. Using his left hand, he carefully pulls the comb through my hair, working out the tangles.

  “Bravo. Not a single hard tug,” I say, when he finishes and drops the comb back into my rucksack.

  “I have hidden talents.”

  “Apparently.” I run my fingers through my smooth hair.

  He hands his water flask to me. “You need something to clear the smoke from your throat.”

  I take a long swallow before speaking again. “So it was Rask, no question about it. But he does not have the mirror, just his scepter.”

  “No, he has both, or so I hear.” Erik pockets the flask, then slides to the edge of the cot to allow me to lie down again. “I met a barkeep who’s had dealings with the Usurper’s troops. He occasionally sold them some brandy.”

  “Anything for some coin.” I stare up at the opening in the roof. The moon is almost full. Only a sliver of darkness shadows one edge of the pale disc.

  “Money is money and people have to survive. Anyway, he said the emperor does not have the mirror yet. Apparently Rask has hidden it at some old castle not far from here. It’s located somewhere on the other side of the hills, closer to the sea.”

  “So just the scepter caused these latest fires?” I shiver. If Sten Rask can use the scepter to create such devastation, what can he do with the mirror?

  “Not exactly. The soldiers bragged to the barkeep, claiming the emperor’s sorcerer used the mirror to infuse more power into some magical staff. I assume they meant the scepter. They said everyone would soon see how useless it was to fight against their forces.”

  “What do you think?”

  “About what?” Erik stares down at me.

  “Do you believe our country can stand against the Usurper, especially now? With Rask in control of the mirror, and this demonstration of its terrible power ... ”

  “I don’t know if we can, but we must try.” Erik presses his hand against my cheek. “You should get some sleep. You have pushed your body beyond all limits t
oday.”

  He stares at me in the strangest way.

  “You as well. Look how your fingers shake.”

  Erik jerks back his hand as if he’s touched fire. He jumps to his feet and crosses to a stool on the other side of the room. “I will keep watch.” He pulls his coat tight and buttons it.

  “No, you were awake most of last night. You can’t continue to do this, Erik. You will ruin your health.”

  “Says the girl who crawled around a burnt-out village to save a few lost souls.”

  I glance over at him. He is perched on the stool like a bear balancing on a rock far too small for its bulk. “So, what do we do now?”

  “If we can locate the mirror, and destroy it somehow, we have a chance. We need to track down Rask at this castle of his and send a message to Sephia, as we discussed. We must stick to the plan and hope for the best.”

  I can’t see his face clearly in the dim light, but his voice sounds oddly hoarse. “You look so uncomfortable. Lie down with me if you want. I mean, we are friends, and you can’t sit on that stool all night.”

  Erik mutters some obscenity, then clears his throat. “No, I think I am better off here.”

  “Suit yourself. I just wanted to offer.” I look away.

  My foot throbs. I focus on other things to dull the pain, but it’s the dying woman’s words that haunt my thoughts. Unless you are a sorcerer, or have such powers.

  It was power Rask promised me. Not just beauty, but power. The kind of power capable of confronting, perhaps even defeating, the evil I have seen today.

  I glance at Erik again. His head has dropped to his chest. He must be exhausted after keeping watch last night, enduring the trauma of the fire, and searching for me amid the rubble.

  Searching for me, and finding me, and carrying me to safety.

  I stare at that red-gold head, now turned to gray by dust and the shadows.

  He is a difficult young man, always trying to take control. Obstinate. Always arguing.

  Brave. Loyal. Willing to sacrifice his life for others.

  Stubborn, brash, and quick to anger. Someone who speaks the truth, even when it is not kind.

  A boy who stares into pieces of wood and gives life to the amazing objects he sees there. Who loves beauty more than anything. Who combs his little sisters’ hair.

  I turn my head and stare up at the cold, uncaring moon.

  A rush of emotion swamps my heart. It is love, I admit, although not the kind I’ve always expected. Love for the person he is, for a dear friend.

  But not a love that includes desire. I sink back against the hard mattress, wondering why I do not feel more for Erik than friendship. Is my heart so shriveled I cannot feel romantic love, not even for a young man so worthy?

  Yet I am grateful, in a way, that I do not. Because I know Erik worships beauty, and I am not beautiful. I cannot be what he desires, either.

  I can protect him, though, as well as my sister and our other friends. I can prevent them from walking into danger.

  They don’t have to go after a treacherous sorcerer, Varna. You know who can find Rask. Only send a thought. Call to him with your mind, tell him you are coming, and he will guide you to his castle.

  More people need not die. Perhaps if you fulfill your promise, you can reason with Rask and convince him to stop using the mirror as a weapon. And if that doesn’t work, you can still do good. You know he keeps it near him. Go to him and find it there. You can destroy the mirror, even if it requires sacrificing one more life.

  Only one more. Only yours.

  Chapter Twenty-Four: In Good Company

  AS ERIK LEADS OUR HORSES from the woods, Luki bounds forward to greet me. Erik remarks that Thyra left Luki behind to watch over the horses.

  I pat Luki’s head, no longer afraid. He may be a wolf, he may need to kill to survive, but no evil shines from his golden eyes.

  “I’m not quite sure what town they headed for, but Thyra said to instruct Luki to find her and follow him.”

  “That sounds reasonable.” I wait for Erik to help me up onto my horse. My foot is too sore to put any weight on it.

  Erik swings up into his saddle. He gives the command to Luki and waits for me to ride beside him before setting off. “It appears I must make you a cane too.”

  “We don’t have time. I’ll just find a sturdy stick when we dismount.” I lower my head and fiddle with my reins. I don’t want him to guess my new plan.

  Because I’ve decided to go to Rask once Erik joins the others. It will be better if they are together when I disappear. Perhaps cooler heads, like Kai and Thyra, can prevent Erik—or Anders and Gerda—from attempting to find me.

  They will send for Sephia, of course, but I don’t fear for her as I do the others. She has formidable magic on her side.

  Luki trots before us, occasionally looking back to ensure we follow him. Seeking a way to pass the time, I question Erik about his sisters, a subject that brings a welcome smile to his tired face. Promising me a laugh, Erik launches into a tale about the time Anders snuck Erik and his sisters backstage at the ballet. One of the girls tugged on a cord and brought down a piece of scenery in the midst of some sylphs flitting about a painted forest glade.

  “It looked like a large stone, but was only papier-mâché. Still, it made the audience think those ballerinas had some hard heads when it burst into pieces around them.”

  I do laugh. “What did you do?”

  “Grabbed up the girls and made a swift exit out the stage door. You should’ve seen us run!” His merry expression sobers. “Anders was always so light on his feet.”

  I face forward and fix my gaze on Luki’s swinging tail. “What will you do about the army? You can’t spend the rest of your life worrying you might be arrested as deserters.”

  “I’m not sure yet. Still trying to work that one out. I’ll think of something.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  “You’re being awfully agreeable today. Did you bump your head as well as burn your foot?”

  “No, but when I do find that stick, I can think of another good use for it.”

  “Ah, there we are. The Varna I know.”

  “Peevish and sharp-tongued?”

  There’s a stretch of silence before Erik speaks again. “No, honest. Not afraid to put me in my place. God knows someone needs to.”

  Luki’s yips break off this conversation. The wolf pauses for a moment, glancing back at us, before loping down a side path.

  We follow him to a gatekeeper’s cottage—a tumbled-down building attached to the remnants of a stone wall. Saplings rise up in place of the missing gates.

  Erik lifts me off my mare and keeps one arm around me as I limp toward the entrance to the cottage.

  “This estate is in bad shape.”

  Kai steps out of the open doorway. “Exactly why we chose it.”

  He’s elbowed away by Gerda, who dashes to me and throws her arms around my neck, knocking away Erik’s hands. “We were terrified you might be dead. Oh, thank you, thank you, Erik, for finding her.” She releases me to stand on tip-toe and kiss him on the cheek.

  With my support removed, I wobble. Kai runs and grabs me before I pitch forward.

  Gerda turns to me with a stricken face. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

  “She badly burned her foot.” Erik watches as Kai offers me his arm. “After giving aid to heaven knows how many of those poor souls.”

  “I was only doing what I’m trained to do. I had my supplies, and I am a healer, so I had to help.” I brush aside Gerda’s hands. “It’s not that bad.”

  Taking a couple of steps with Kai’s help, I forget to lift my injured foot and bang it into a rock on the path. I make a noise that sounds like something being slaughtered.

  Kai moves to provide more support, but before he can do so, Erik swoops in behind us and lifts me up into his arms.

  “Enough of this nonsense. Gerda, please push the door open. Kai, can you see to the horses?”r />
  “Of course,” Kai says, moving out of the way.

  Thyra walks around the corner with Luki at her heels. “What is this?”

  Gerda pauses with one hand on the door. “Erik found Varna, but she’s hurt, and he is taking her inside.”

  “I see.” Thyra sets down a pail of water. She examines Erik before sharing a glance with Kai. “It is all perfectly clear, actually.”

  Kai grabs the bridles of our horses. “Absolutely.” He grins at his wife.

  “The door, Gerda,” snaps Erik, and carries me inside.

  Anders, resting on an old bed pushed up against one wall, rises to his feet as soon as he spies us.

  “Varna is alive!” Gerda hands him his cane. “She’s a little hurt, but not too much.” She leans in to kiss him on the cheek. “Now we are all together again.”

  Erik crosses the room and lowers me onto the bed. “I hope that is one of ours.” He frowns, staring at the dusty coverlet beneath the wool blanket.

  “The blanket? Yes,” Anders replies. “I was not about to sit on the bed without it.”

  Erik places me on the blanket and I scoot until I can press my back against the iron bedstead. I want to sit up, not lie down like some invalid.

  Gerda perches on the edge of the bed and clasps one of my hands. “All this misery might soon be worth something. Thyra has a lead. We hope to receive news tomorrow.”

  “Oh?” I look up and meet Thyra’s speculative gaze. “What have you found?”

  “I contacted someone I knew from my travels.” She sets the pail on a rickety table near the door. “It’s a person we can trust,” she adds, with a sharp look at Erik.

  “You are sure?” he asks.

  “Absolutely. This is someone I met at my mentor’s home. It’s the person who warned me about the emperor’s interest in the mirror.”

  “A spy?” Anders raises his wispy eyebrows.

  “I suppose you could say so. At any rate, someone who’s just as anxious to see the mirror destroyed as we are.” She does not turn around when Kai enters the cottage, but I can tell by her sudden stillness she’s aware of his presence. “Because it must be destroyed. I see that now. There is no way to hide it again, not when Rask has demonstrated what a touch of its power can do.”