The sun had already dipped behind the houses lining the opposite side of the street the Drosselmeyer home was on. Warm rays of light stubbornly clung to the sky, blanketing the buildings in hues of rose and bronze. A few people mulled about, strolling up and down the street at a leisurely pace as the darkness of night approached.

Clara rested her hand on Eric's arm, watching as Tommy wandered ahead of them, tapping a stick along the iron fence they walked beside. Clara breathed deeply, enjoying the open air. If her grandfather had been with them, he would have insisted that they take the carriage. But the theatre was not far, and Clara preferred walking.

"I feel a little guilty admitting this," Clara said sheepishly. "But I'm rather glad Grandfather has been delayed a couple of days."

"You don't miss his oppressive brooding?" smirked Eric.

The corner of Clara's lips curved upwards. "I love my grandfather, and I do want to see him…but let's just say that I appreciate being able to spend some time with just my brother. And you, of course," she added quickly.

"Thank you, love. Glad to be the afterthought in your affections."

Clara laughed, gently elbowing Eric's side.

They turned down a narrower street leading away from the rows of houses. Ahead, the dull roar of the city's urban nightlife drifted over the cobblestones. Eagerness seized Tommy's expression, and he hurried ahead. He had initially been reluctant to accompany Clara and Eric to the theatre, but when Eric mentioned that the play being performed was Hamlet, which promised an abundance of sword fighting, Tommy's hesitation dissipated rather quickly. Now, Tommy led his sister and brother-in-law through the town with a youthful eagerness they found highly amusing.

The sound of tiny scuttling feet caught Eric's attention, and he glanced at the edge of the sidewalk. Running alongside it were nearly a dozen mice. Eric stared at the rodents, and Clara turned to follow his gaze. They both slowed, watching as the mice scrambled along the street, their nails scraping over the stones with an odd loudness. The animals scurried into a sewage drain, squeaking wildly as they splashed into the filthy water.

Clara glanced up at Eric. He stared after the mice for a long moment before shaking his head and pulling her away from the drain. The wariness in his eyes was not lost on Clara, and she tightened her grip on him, confused by the strange occurrence.

They made it to the theatre with just enough time to get seated before the play began. It was an extravagant production, and by the final act Tommy seemed to be the most entranced of them all.

"Wasn't that final sword fight incredible?" said Tommy excitedly. He swiped his arm upwards in a dramatic slash. "And that fake blood! It was everywhere! How'd they do it?" He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I suppose it they had a bag hidden under their clothes. But what if it popped before the fight scene? Would they just continue on as if nothing happened, and pretend not to notice the gushing blood, or would Hamlet have to drop dead in Act Three, and then the whole play is ruined?"

"I think he enjoyed it," Eric whispered to Clara.

Clara grinned. "Grandfather will be pleased to hear that. He's worried that your American ways will be a bad influence on Tommy. Knowing that you had taken us to the theatre should satisfy him."

"Well now, that isn't a very gentlemanly thing of him to presume," said Eric humorously. "I shall have to try and be better behaved around your grandfather then. Can't allow him to develop a poor opinion of my home country."

Clara let out a laugh. "I'm sure Americans everywhere will thank you for your efforts."

Eric tightened his arm linking around Clara's, his smile mirroring hers as they followed Tommy onto a bridge arching over a river that weaved through the town. Night had long fallen by the time they had left the theatre, but the summer sky was clear with speckled stars and a curved crescent moon. Gas lamps illuminated their path, casting a dusky glow over the bridge. As they stepped onto it, the sounds of the town seemed to dull, causing their footsteps to amplify unsettlingly.

Then they heard the familiar scurrying of tiny clawed feet.

"Eric..." breathed Clara nervously. She clutched his arm, and they twisted their heads around to watch as dozens of mice scuttled along the sides of the bridges. They moved quickly – and intently in their direction.

"Get Tommy," said Eric, his voice low.

The pounding of heavy hooves against the cobblestones made Eric and Clara jerk their heads up. Half a dozen horses were galloping towards them. Their riders wore long cloaks that billowed out behind them, giving them the appearance of dark phantoms. It was hard to make out their faces, but as they came close it was clear that they were human. At least, they appeared to be.

"Tommy!" cried Clara. She turned to her brother, who was watching the mice with confused fascination.

Tommy looked at his sister, his brow furrowing at her sharp tone. His attention snapped to the approaching riders, and he moved to Eric and Clara's side, apprehension on his face. Once he was within reach, Clara pulled him in-between her and Eric.

The riders formed a half-circle around the three, forcing them against the iron railing of the bridge. The mice ran between the horses' legs in nonsensical circles, squeaking frantically, as though driven mad by the riders' presence.

One of the riders nudged his horse forward. He was middle-aged, with a face made of handsome features that had been only lightly weathered by time. He studied the three of them calmly, though his gaze lingered on Eric. A rather smug smile pricked the edge of his mouth, and he twisted his horse's reins over his wrist, the leather of his gloves creaking beneath the movement.

Recognition flickered in Eric's eyes, followed by disbelief. "Vogt? How the devil did you get here?"

"Not a very eloquent greeting, for a king," said the man. Something comprised of both amusement and disgust shadowed his tone.

"Vogt?" Clara frowned at the familiar name. Realization clicked in her mind, and she stared at the man in shock. "Johan Vogt?"

He had been a lord in Parthenia – once. A councilman of Eric's father, who served beneath the king for many years. When the Mouse King had overtaken Parthenia, some of the councilmen realigned their allegiance to him, including Vogt. After being crowned king, Eric had spared the traitorous men from execution, not wanting to set a precedent for such a punishment so soon into his reign. Instead, the men were stripped of their titles and exiled.

But that did not explain how Vogt could had possibly gotten to Germany.

Johan Vogt turned to Clara and nodded his head in an unexpectedly respectful manner. "Your Majesty," he greeted. "How wonderful, to finally meet you. The tales of your beauty certainly weren't exaggerated. That is a pleasant surprise."

Tommy frowned at the man. "Why are you talking to them like that? They aren't royalty."

Vogt gave a rough laugh. "Aren't they?" He looked at Eric. "And who is this? Another child you separated from his father under the guise of charity? How are the Corlynch children, by the way?"

Eric gritted his teeth. "What do you want?"

Vogt swept his cloak over his shoulder, revealing his belt. Hanging from it was a sword. He drew it and pointed it at Eric. "You." He waved at Clara and Tommy. "They are free to leave. But you..." He shook his head. "We have business, Your Majesty."

"He is not going anywhere with you," Clara said viciously.

Vogt smirked. "How do you plan to stop us? I see that none of you carry a blade." He shook his head at Eric. "I would think a king would be better prepared to protect his queen."

Eric tightened his jaw. "If I go with you, you must allow them to leave unharmed."

"You are not going with them, Eric," snapped Clara.

Tommy nodded fiercely, stepping slightly in front of Eric. But Eric immediately pushed Tommy behind him, ignoring Tommy's hissing protest.

"Did I not just guarantee their release?" asked Vogt with a bored air. "Really, Eric, I would have thought you to have obtained some sense since Mauscher's curse." He waved his hand. "Take him. Try not to harm the queen and the boy, though."

The other five riders moved their horses forward. Eric spun and shoved Tommy and Clara towards the narrow space still left between the bridge railing and the final horse. "Go!" he shouted.

"Tommy, run!" Clara ordered.

Tommy hesitated. "But –"

Clara gave him a hard push. "Go! Get help!"

Conflict dominated Tommy's face, but he nodded and dashed between the horse and railing, squeezing to freedom. The horse staggered back in surprise at the passing movement, but its rider prevented it from following Tommy.

Clara rushed back to Eric's side and wrenched a hairpin from her hair. Nearly five inches in length, the beaded pin created a rather sharp point at its tip. Clara adjusted it in her hand, holding it out like a dagger.

"You were supposed to go with him," ground out Eric. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her against him.

"I'm not leaving you." She raised the pin, glaring at Vogt.

Vogt laughed. "Don't pique my interest, my queen. I may just take you along for the amusement."

Eric snarled, tightening his grip on Clara.

Two of the horses rushed forward. Eric and Clara jumped clear of the stamping hooves, stumbling between the two animals. Eric lunged forward and grabbed the belt of the rider nearest him, yanking hard. The men tumbled from his horse with a cry, and Eric delivered a swift punch to the man, stunning him.

Clara turned to the other rider. Careful of the horse's legs, she swung her arm forward and jabbed the pin into the rider's thigh. The man let out a cry of pain and wrenched his horse backwards, colliding it with the rider behind him.

Another rider kicked his horse towards Eric, forcing him back against the bridge railing. Eric tried to side-step around the animal, but the man he had struck leapt up from the ground and threw himself at Eric, fists raised. Eric managed to dodge the first punch, but the other rider nudged his horse closer, distracting Eric. The man on foot slung his fist into Eric's jaw, sending him staggering.

"Eric!" shouted Clara. Furious, she spun around to face the three horses that had formed a triangular prison around her. She searched for the man she had stabbed, hoping to rip the pin free and regain her weapon. But the injured man had already pulled the pin loose, and he waved it at her now, sneering.

In the distance, the shouts of approaching men could be heard – men Tommy must have found for help. Relief soared through Clara and she looked at the Vogt, hoping he would feel nervous enough to call the attack off.

Vogt frowned, glancing in the direction of the noise. "Hurry!" he commanded.

The man who had struck Eric grabbed Eric's right arm and yanked it out at an odd angle, the force of the action nearly enough to dislocate the limb. Eric grunted in pain and fumbled for the bridge's railing. Bracing his hand on the iron bar, he raised his foot and delivered a hard kick to his assailant's stomach, sending him reeling.

The second man cornering Eric dismounted his horse and ran forward. Eric turned to face him, but the man lunged at him clumsily, and the two collided. Unable to find his balance, Eric rammed into the railing – and tumbled backwards over the side of the bridge.

"Eric!" screamed Clara.

There was the splash of Eric hitting the water below the bridge...followed by nothing. No sounds of resurface or struggling. Just silence.

"You idiot!" Vogt spat at the man who had given Eric the final shove. The shouting was closer now, and Vogt jerked his head towards its source. A group of three men were racing onto the bridge, arms waving wildly. Behind them was the running figure of a boy.

Clara pushed against the horses surrounding her, desperate to get to the bridge's edge. With no indication that Eric had resurfaced, Clara feared that he had struck his head on something, dazing him or rendering him unconscious. "Eric! Eric! Please, he could be drowning!"

Vogt pushed his way through the horses and scooped up Clara, pulling her onto his saddle. "It seems we will be taking you with us after all, Your Majesty." He gestured harshly to two of his men. "Get down there! Make sure he doesn't drown, or this will all be for nothing."

The indicated men nodded and hurried towards the end of the bridge, where the sloping bank led to the river.

Clara twisted and writhed, fighting viciously. "Let me go! You can't! No!"

Vogt tightened his arms over Clara, easily holding her small frame against his broad chest. "Let's go." He gave his horse a hard kick, sending the animal galloping over the bridge and away from the men running towards them. Vogt's men followed, and the group vanished into the dark summer night.

/

The river was surprisingly cold. Eric's body tensed at the shock of it, and for a moment all he could do was sink into the murky depths, the sound of rushing water blocking out Clara's horrified scream. His body trembled from the chill of the water, then his limbs twitched into movement. At first, he moved to propel himself to the water's surface. But he thought better of it, and instead twisted around to swim towards the riverbank. His lungs burned from the lack of air, and he kicked his legs fiercely, willing himself to make the distance.

He surfaced amongst a weaving entanglement of cattails and brush, which had grown over the edge of the river. Satisfied that he was hidden far enough beneath the bridge, Eric pulled himself onto the bank. He wearily laid on his side, mud caking his soaked clothes as he fought for breath.

How did Vogt get to Germany? There were a very few select people Eric was aware of that knew the art of world traveling, and Vogt had not been one of them. Perhaps Mauscher had taught him, but it seemed unlike Mauscher to share such knowledge with someone he would see as an inferior.

Clara.

Had they taken her? Was she alright? Alarm seized Eric, and he placed shaky hands against the ground to push himself into a sitting position. But pain shot up his right arm as he put pressure on it, and he flinched, groaning at the burning in his shoulder. Mud squelched beneath his movements as he gingerly sat up, and he frowned, glaring at the arm.

Most of the time, his arm gave him little trouble. But after his curse had been lifted, the limb had never had been the same. If he was extraordinarily tired it would tend to ache, and pain flared in it if he strained it too much. Now, after it being yanked around violently and him falling off the bridge, it seared with pain to an almost dizzying level.

The thudding of approaching footsteps made him snap his head up. Stumbling down the embankment were two of Vogt's men – one of whom was holding a knife. Eric hastily pushed himself to his feet, glancing about for something to use as a weapon. But it was hard to concentrate, as he was lightheaded from the attack and the pain in his shoulder. Fear pooled within him. Fighting off two men would be impossible in his current state.

The man with the knife smiled, wagging the blade mockingly at Eric. "We're not done with you yet, Your Majesty." He laughed. "If you come quietly, maybe Vogt will have mercy on your pretty wife."

Eric gritted his teeth, fury boiling through his fear for Clara. He took a step away from the men, grasping his useless arm.

"Eric!"

Eric twisted around. Tommy was hurrying down the opposite riverbank, flanked by three men. They skidded to a stop at the edge the river, and one of the men pulled out a pistol, aiming it at the man with the knife.

"Hold it right there!" ordered the man with the pistol.

The man holding the knife snarled. "This is none of your concern! Waste your time elsewhere."

The man cocked the pistol. "Back off, or I will fire."

Eric's attacker snorted. He and his companion took another step towards Eric.

The sound of the pistol going off cracked loudly into the night, echoing beneath the bridge at a deafening volume. A cry of pain emanated from the man with the knife, and he stumbled backwards, letting the blade tumble to the ground as he clutched his bicep. Blood seeped through his fingers, evidence of the precisely aimed bullet wound. The man glared at the stranger with the pistol, then focused his livid gaze on Eric.

"Have it your way," he snapped viciously. He began to edge away from Eric. "No matter – we have your precious queen. Was it worth losing her for a few more hours of freedom?"

Eric lunged at the man, rage pulsating throughout his body.

The man jumped free of the attack and tugged his companion after him. "Let's go!" The two turned away from Eric and raced up the riverbank.

Eric burst into an immediate pursuit. But with his injured arm, it was difficult to climb up the muddy slope. By the time he made it to the top, the men had disappeared.

Gut-wrenching panic filled him, making it hard to think clearly.

Clara. They had Clara.

He struggled for breath, unable to catch even a gasp of air in his terror.

"Eric!"

Eric spun around. Tommy and the three men were running across the bridge towards him. Once they were near Eric, the three men slowed to a stop. Tommy, though, ran forward to collide with Eric, wrapping his arms around him fiercely.

Eric returned the embrace as best he could with one arm. Tommy rarely showed affection in such a physical manner to Eric – him doing so now only deepened Eric's anxiety, as he realized how frightened Tommy truly was. "Are you alright, Tommy?"

Tommy nodded and pulled away from Eric. "Your arm…"

Eric's left hand instinctively moved to the throbbing limb. "It's not broken. I'll be fine." He looked at the three men. "Thank you."

The man who had fired the pistol nodded, his expression grim. "It was a lucky chance, your boy finding us. We were the only ones left on the street he came running down." He studied Eric closely. "Did you know those men?"

"No," lied Eric, hoping they hadn't heard his assailant's taunt about Clara.

Another man frowned, doubt in his eyes. "They were fairly dedicated thieves, then."

Eric shrugged, then winced at his injured arm's protest.

The third man gestured to Tommy. "The lad said his sister was here too. Where is she now?"

Tommy looked at Eric in agonized expectation, his eyes wide as he waited for Eric's answer.

Eric glanced away from Tommy, his heart sinking with guilt. "Gone," he said quietly.

"Gone?" repeated the first man. "Taken by those men on horses, you mean?"

Eric nodded, his jaw tightening.

Panicked fear blanketed Tommy's expression. He glanced about frantically, then rushed forward, in the direction Vogt's men had gone. Eric threw his good arm out and grabbed Tommy around the chest, yanking him back. "Tommy, wait!"

"Let me go!" shouted Tommy. "We can't just stand here, we have to find her!"

"I know, Tommy!" Eric tightened his arm on the boy. "I know. But we must think, plan out what to do first. Blindly running after those men will only get you hurt."

Tommy stilled, his bottom lip trembling in his uncertainty of what to do. Then he nodded shakily. Eric released him, and Tommy turned back to face the group.

"The police station isn't far from here," said one of the men. "Do you need us to take you there? Or we could help you search for her."

"No," replied Eric. "Thank you for all that you've done, but we can find our way to the station ourselves."

"You sure?" asked another man.

Eric nodded.

The man who had shot the pistol pressed his lips together in concern. "If you insist." He narrowed his eyes at the line of buildings beyond the bridge. "We'll take the longer route back to our homes. If we see anything, we'll be sure to contact the police."

"Thank you," Eric said sincerely.

The man nodded. "Good luck. And be careful." He waved at his friends, and they walked in the direction Vogt's men had gone, disappearing down the winding streets.

Eric watched them leave, then gestured at Tommy. "Come on, Tommy. We need to get back to the house"

Surprise flickered across Tommy's face. "The house? What about the police?"

Eric shook his head. "They can't help us." He sighed. "I need the scepter," he muttered, the thought meant for himself despite being spoken aloud.

"The what?" asked Tommy.

Eric glanced at Tommy. "My…umbrella."

Tommy stared at Eric. "Your umbrella?" he repeated, aghast. "My sister has just been kidnapped, and you want to get your umbrella? Have you gone completely mad?" He looked up at the sky, gesturing wildly. "It's not even raining!"

"It's not a regular umbrella," said Eric, his voice low. He glanced about them warily, then grabbed Tommy's arm and tugged him in the direction of the Drosselmeyer house.

"Oh, well, if it's a special umbrella, then by all means!" exclaimed Tommy sarcastically. He tore free of Eric. "What we should be doing is getting the police."

"They'll never find her. Those men will be sure to shield themselves and Clara from any nonmagical search."

"Shield them? Nonmagical? What are you talking about? Who are they?"

"Men who shouldn't be here in the first place," said Eric grimly. He gestured again, harshly. "Come on, Tommy. We need to get back to the house."

"No." Tommy shook his head. "We have to go to the police." He threw his hands up in frustration, looking at Eric in disbelief. "I thought you loved her. If you do, you should want to go to the police – they can help." Desperation fought to overcome the hopelessness in his eyes. "She's my sister."

"And she's my wife," said Eric, his voice strained on the final word. He placed his hand on Tommy's shoulder. "Of course I love her, Tommy. More than anything. Which is why we need to go back to the house. What's there can help us find her faster than anyone at the police station ever could." He tightened his grip on the boy. "You must trust me."

Tommy searched Eric's eyes, looking for the truth in Eric's words. Tears welled in his eyes, and he nodded. "Okay," he whispered.

Eric patted Tommy's shoulder. "Let's go. And stay close to me."

Tommy looked behind them nervously, then hurried after Eric, never wavering from his side as they rushed back to the house.

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I've got a lot going on this week and next week, so I probably won't update for at least a week or so. So I thought I'd leave it at this nice little cliffhanger. Enjoy! ;)