Scepter of Fire

by Vicki L. Weavil

  “You don’t have servants?”

  Sten Rask tightens his grip without slowing our march to his front doors. “Magic is my servant.”

  I gaze up at the blank, cold, face of his home. “So you live here alone?”

  “For now. Although, as you know, I am entertaining a few guests at the moment.”

  “Yes, that.” I plant my feet, the toes of my boots pressed into the final riser as the wooden doors open before us. I see nothing inside except a stretch of stone flooring and shadows. “I will enter on one condition. You must release Gerda and Anders immediately.”

  Rask’s laugh rips through the quiet like the roar of some great beast. “Oh, Varna,” he says at last, yanking me through the doors and into the front hall, “what fun we shall have, you and I, once I transform you into everything you should be.”

  Chapter Eighteen: Choices

  As the doors slam behind us, Rask releases my arm. He steps away to lay his coat and the scepter on an ornately carved wooden chair—the only object pressed against the stone block walls.

  The hall extends the entire width of the house, ending in a row of tall, arched windows set into the back wall. Although pieced and leaded like stained glass, the windows are devoid of color.

  Except for the windows and the one chair, the only object of interest in the room is a curving mahogany staircase. It’s a marvel—spiraling upward to landings on the second and third floors without any obvious central support. I stare at it, trying to imagine how anyone could build such a structure, and how it could hang there without crashing to the stone floor below.

  “Craftsmanship, not magic,” Rask says, as if reading my thoughts. “It is amazing what can be accomplished by someone who possesses enough skill and determination.”

  He crosses back to me and takes my chin in his hand, forcing me to look into his eyes. “It’s what I see in you, Varna. Something magic cannot supply.”

  I can’t allow his gaze to enchant me. “You just said ‘transform’. What do you mean?”

  “Why, give you beauty to match your spirit, of course.” He turns my face to one side and studies my profile. “Personally, I see no need, but I know how this world judges appearance. So many people cling to a narrow definition of beauty.”

  I force myself to remain still. Gerda is here somewhere. I must do whatever I can to engage Rask and focus his attention on me. I need to give Erik and the others time to escape. “You mean you’ll create an illusion of beauty.”

  “Not at all.” Rask releases my chin and steps back, his gaze sweeping from my head to my toes. “The magic I work will change your appearance, not simply gift you with glamour to fool others’ eyes.”

  “Why?” This is the question I need answered, regardless of Gerda’s fate or anything else. The one thing I cannot understand. I reach out and grasp one of Rask’s fine-boned hands. “Why me? There are many beautiful women in the world. No need to use magic to create another.”

  Sten Rask stares at my fingers, curled about his own. His dark eyes widen, as if he’s thrown off-guard by my action. “Because, my dear”—he pulls me closer, using our clasped hands—“it does not require a great deal of magic to change outward appearance. Oh, it’s not an easy process, I grant you. There is some pain involved. Still, it is child’s play compared to altering someone’s basic nature.” He uses his free hand to tip up my chin before he leans in, his lips only inches from mine. “I can give you beauty and power. I cannot give a beautiful woman your intelligence or your innate passion. No magic can do that.”

  I hate myself—my desire to kiss those lips, to press against that body, to allow Sten Rask’s seductive voice to enchant me. Beauty and power. It is my dream.

  But … The screams of those trapped by smoke and fire, a young man flinging himself to his death, my sister and Anders carried off by a frightful, unnatural creature … I turn my head. “I need to see Gerda. To know she’s all right. I want your promise to free her and Anders Nygaard if I agree to stay here with you.”

  Rask takes hold of my shoulders. “And I need the location of the mirror. So if you can convince your sister to tell me that, we can broker a deal.” He pulls me close and brushes his lips against my skin, tracing a line from my temple to one ear. “A deal that will benefit you, my dear, more than anyone. The beauty you desire. The power you crave.”

  I sigh and sink into his embrace, allowing his mouth to slide to my lips. Heat surges through my body as he kisses me. I feel as if I’m suspended in some light-drenched pool, weightless and warm, my skin tingling. Light blossoming into fire.

  A crash resonates through the hall. I trace the source of the sound to the third floor, and all pleasure evaporates from my body.

  Rask’s grip tightens until pain shoots through my shoulders. He lifts his head. “There is someone else here. What have you done? Brought along a bodyguard?”

  Erik. I try to still my mind, to block all thought of him, but I’m too late. Rask drags me along the main hall and thrusts me into one of the rooms, slamming the door behind him.

  I don’t move. Nothing will improve this situation.

  You have failed, Varna. You couldn’t keep his attention, could not protect Erik, or Gerda or Anders.

  I swallow a sob. I might be beaten, but I will not give Sten Rask the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

  As I await the inevitable, a glimmer of gold catches my eye. I glance around the darkened room. Shadows fill the space—a jumble of objects piled like boxes in a storeroom. As if drawn by a magical cord, I walk to the window and throw back the heavy damask drapes.

  The room bursts into life, a riot of shapes and color. I circle the furniture in a daze. It’s like a dragon’s hoard—beautiful objects are stacked on antique tables and chairs, while paintings line the walls. Everything is of the finest workmanship, from the silver tea set balanced on top of a hand-painted cupboard, to the perfectly detailed carving of feathers on a sculpted marble owl.

  My gaze lingers on a portrait of a woman. Although she is clothed in garments from long ago, there’s nothing antiquated about her face. It is vibrant and alive, her wide dark eyes fringed with impossibly thick lashes, and her full lips barely parted as if she’s about to speak. Her hair, dark and glossy as a raven’s wing, falls like a shimmering veil behind her pale shoulders.

  I wonder who she is, or was. The painted arches framing her lovely face and figure resemble ancient buildings, and her clothing matches the sculpted images of saints. But, unlike those chaste depictions, this woman’s robes outline her figure in a sensuous fashion. My eye is drawn to her hand, where tapered fingers curl about the handle of an exotic feather fan.

  Peacock feathers. I recall the emblem on Rask’s front gates and squint as I examine the portrait’s mesmerizing eyes. “I wonder if she was truly that beautiful,” I say aloud, “or if the painter flattered her.”

  “She is that beautiful,” says Sten Rask from the doorway.

  He stares at the painting. His face is as cold as a stone carving, although a blue flame dances in his dark eyes.

  It’s someone he knows. But who? I can’t spare further thought for this puzzle, because Gerda and Anders are standing on either side of the sorcerer, his hands gripping their shoulders. He shoves them into the room and turns sideways to allow Erik to walk past him. From his shuffling feet and blank expression, I suspect Erik is trapped by some spell.

  Of course he is. Otherwise he would fight back, no matter how futile the effort.

  I run to the door as Rask releases his hold on Gerda. She stumbles forward and falls into my waiting arms.

  “Are you all right?” I ask repeatedly as Gerda buries her head in my shoulder and sobs.

  Rask marches Anders to a gilt chair and forces him to sit. “She is fine. They all are, for now.” He turns to Erik and snaps his fingers.

  Erik’s clouded eyes clear. He lunges at the sorcerer, fists raised.

  I push Gerda aside, ready to step in if necessary. Stop, Erik. No matter how st
rong you are, you cannot fight this man.

  “You truly thought you could sneak into my home?” Rask grabs Erik’s arms and shakes him. “Foolish boy. I remember you from the fire, huddling with Varna and the others. You were utterly useless then as well.” He lifts Erik by his arms and tosses him across the room.

  Erik’s head slams into a brass-bound wooden trunk with a sickening thud. I run to him, but before I can reach his side, Rask stands before me.

  I did not see him move. I press my palms against his velvet waistcoat. “He may need my help.”

  “He is fine.” Rask grips my hands. “Unfortunately, he won’t stay that way, unless you do as I say.”

  I look up into his expressionless face. “Please release them. I will stay if you will free them.”

  “It’s too late. You have aided in this deception. I see that now. Your pleading means nothing to me.”

  Gazing into his haunted eyes, I can tell this is a lie, but can’t pursue that mystery now. I lower my head. “If you seek the mirror, we can’t help, since none of us know where it is hidden.”

  “That’s not precisely true.” Rask releases my hands. “I’ve sensed something buried in Gerda’s mind, but have not been able to extract the information.” He meets my furious expression calmly. “I could use stronger magic, but unless it is willingly accepted, it might damage her mind. I prefer to avoid that possibility. I’m not inclined to torture innocents.”

  Erik jumps to his feet, green eyes blazing. “You had no trouble killing them in that fire.”

  “Christiane?” Anders glances from Erik to me. The skin under his eyes looks bruised.

  “She is safe,” I reply. “She was injured but is recovering.”

  “No thanks to you.” Erik strides forward to face Sten Rask. He lowers the hand he’s holding to the back of his head.

  I spy blood on his palm. Anders also sees it, and pushes his body out of the chair. “Steady, Erik. Perhaps we should negotiate.” He limps to stand at Erik’s side.

  Gerda runs to them, brandishing a handkerchief Erik plucks from her fingers and presses against his head.

  Gerda stands between the two young men, her face flushed with anger. “You hurt him. Is that all you can do, hurt people?”

  Rask strolls over to confront my defiant sister. “I do not enjoy harming others, little sparrow. However, I must do whatever it takes to recover the mirror. There are forces that compel me, in addition to my own desires. And I still believe you can help me, if you will.”

  Examining Gerda, I realize she’s perfectly clean and wearing different garments than when she was captured. As is Anders. I look to Rask, whose lips curl into a smile.

  I want to slap that smile off his face.

  And kiss those lips.

  No, Varna, that is not real. That is some enchantment. It must be.

  I clutch the fabric of my skirt with both hands. “You don’t have anything to tell, Gerda. I keep repeating the truth, and this man keeps ignoring me.”

  “I never ignore you, Varna. I simply know there’s something buried in Gerda’s mind that might prove beneficial to my quest.”

  “You have no rights to the mirror.” Anders’s voice rings out, perfectly steady, although he leans heavily on Erik’s arm to remain on his feet.

  Rask looks him up and down. “No one has rights to the mirror, Master Nygaard. But I will find it, with or without your friends. The question is, will Gerda aid me, and gain their freedom, or fight me, and condemn them to imprisonment. You see, if she helps, I promise to free Master Stahl, and even Gerda, eventually. As well as you, of course.”

  The muscles in Erik’s neck bulge. “And Varna?”

  Sten Rask’s gaze sweeps over me. “I have other plans for Varna.”

  Erik lunges toward him, but Rask lifts his hand and Erik stops as if he’s hit a wall. Gerda seizes the opportunity to fly at the sorcerer with her fingers outstretched like claws.

  Rask grasps both of Gerda’s wrists and lifts her off the ground “Calm down, little sparrow. I have no intention of harming Varna. Quite the opposite. I wish to help her.” He sets Gerda back on her feet.

  Anders releases Erik’s arm and grabs a silver-tipped walking stick from a table at his elbow. He balances his weight with the cane and straightens, his head held high. “You? What could you do for her? Surely nothing good. None of us will allow you to lay a finger on Varna.”

  Rask looks him over, amusement sparking in his dark eyes. “I doubt you could stop me.”

  Erik steps up next to Anders. “You’d have to go through both of us.”

  Rask brushes a piece of lint off his waistcoat. “Not really a problem. At any rate, the question of Varna’s future is not relevant to this discussion. It’s also not your decision.” He shoots me a piercing look. “What is important to me at this moment is the location of the mirror. If Gerda can provide me with information, everyone can have what they want.” His gaze remains fixed on my face. “What they truly want.”

  Beauty and power, Varna. Is that not worth a little sacrifice?

  I cover my ears with my hands, even though I know these words are ringing in my head, not falling from Rask’s lips.

  Gerda’s shoulders slump. “Please stand back, Erik and Anders. I don’t want more harm to come to you through this man.” She stares up at Rask, her face set. “If I know anything, if you can discover it, I will allow you to try—but only if you agree to release Varna along with the rest of us.”

  Rask grabs her and pulls her to his chest. “Open your mind then, Gerda Lund.” He presses his fingers against her temples. “Stop fighting and allow me to search your memory.”

  Gerda stills her body and closes her eyes, while Erik holds Anders back.

  “Take your hands off her!” Anders struggles in Erik’s grip. “He can’t have the mirror, Erik. Imagine what evil such a devil could do!”

  “We will deal with it later.” Erik glances over at me. “Right now any action we take could harm Gerda. You don’t want that.”

  I unclench my fingers, releasing their hold on the crumpled material of my skirt.

  “A cave.” Gerda’s eyes close. Her voice is hollow as a shell. “Bae told me once. He pointed it out when we were traveling through the kingdom of the Snow Queen. He said if we were ever separated, I should try to reach the old man who lived there.”

  “Holger,” I say under my breath.

  “I didn’t think much of it at the time,” Gerda continues, in that ghostly tone. “My mind was focused on other things. I remember now—it was in the mountains that ring the Snow Queen’s castle. Just above the cave there was a strange formation in the rocks, like a great bird with its wings outstretched. A giant bird … ” She gasps and collapses in a heap on the wooden plank floor.

  I run to kneel at her side, glaring at Rask. “No more. Keep your word and let us go. You have what you want.”

  “Not entirely.” His eyes remain fixed on my face. “And I never promised anything. To be honest, I believe I should take Gerda with me to find this mysterious cave. Her memory may aid me, and I need a hostage to prevent you from doing anything foolish, such as alerting your friend Sephia to my plan. At least until it is too late.”

  “You are not going anywhere with Gerda!” Anders lifts the cane as if to swing it against the sorcerer’s head. He’s knocked back with one wave of Rask’s hand and falls into the chair, breathing heavily.

  Erik runs to his friend and kneels beside him.

  I must draw the sorcerer’s attention. “Take me, not Gerda,” I say, as my sister yanks at my sleeve.

  “No, no, I will go. I will go.”

  Rask stares down at the two of us, huddled on the floor. “Ah, the Lund sisters. So very brave. Perhaps I should keep both of you.” He holds out his hand. “No, Gerda will do for now. But only because I know Varna will honor her vow later.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I see Erik pass something from his pocket into Anders’s hand. Of course, the invisibility potion. Erik
wants Anders to have it, in case …

  In case Erik dies, trying to protect us. In case Anders must use it instead.

  “I will. I always keep my promises,” I say, locking onto Rask’s gaze.

  “What promise?” Gerda allows Rask to pull her up, as I struggle to my feet without aid. “What promise, Varna?”

  Rask takes her by the arm and ushers her into the hall. “Master Stahl, please escort Varna,” he calls over his shoulder.

  Erik stands and shuffles over to me like a reanimated corpse. He clutches my arm and follows Rask and Gerda.

  “Spell,” he spits between clenched teeth. “Or I would shoot him.”

  “I know.” I lay my fingers over his.

  Gerda must jog to keep up with Rask’s longer strides. “What of Anders?”

  “I think we can leave Master Nygaard where he is. He cannot move quickly enough to do anything to stop us, so there’s no need to waste magic on him.” Rask waves his hand and the front doors swing open. “Don’t worry, Gerda. I said I would free him and the others, and I will. Now—in the room across the hall you will find a fur cloak and some boots and mittens. Go and collect them. You’ll need protection on our travels.”

  Gerda nods. As she disappears into the shadows of the other room, my mind spins wild scenarios of rescue.

  What can you do, Varna? If Rask can control Erik so easily, he can surely circumvent any action you take.

  I sigh, causing Rask to turn back to me and Erik.

  “Kill you,” Erik says, although the words seem to choke him.

  “I’ve no doubt you would like to, but I’m not ready to die quite yet.” Rask reaches into Erik’s pocket and pulls out the gun. “Such a primitive weapon.” He tosses the pistol to the foot of the spiral staircase.

  Erik only manages a strangled cough in response. I don’t look at him. I stare at Rask. “You must free Gerda as soon as you find the mirror.”