Dark Mirror 2 - Dark Passage (31 page)

The building was sparsely inhabited. Not only was it absurdly late at night, but as Allarde said, search parties must have sent most of the troops after the escaped prisoners.

The soldier opened another door. Inside a bleeding figure was tied to a chair, his head slumped and pain in every line of his body. Jack.

Cynthia choked back a cry at the sight. The two Germans in the room had been “interrogating” him even though her illusion magic made him look like a schoolboy. This close, his pain was so acute she couldn’t block it completely. Her left eye ached in sympathy with his eye, which was badly damaged and swollen shut.

His left shoulder must be excruciating if the pain in her shoulder reflected that. There were other aches and wounds, but the shoulder was the worst. Biting her lip, she concentrated on maintaining her illusions, including an expressionless face for herself.

Allarde barked a question at the interrogators, wisely keeping his speech to a minimum to reduce the chance of mistakes. After the officer replied, Allarde gave an order, disgust in his voice.

The officer started to protest only to have Allarde repeat his order with throbbing menace. Angry but obedient, the interrogator unfastened Jack’s bonds and hauled him to his feet.

Jack cried out and almost fell when the officer yanked on his left arm. Cynthia could see red agony flare in his shoulder.

As Jack stood swaying, Allarde said in German-accented English, “Come, spy. I will deal with you as you deserve.”

Jack’s head came up, but if he recognized Allarde, his bruised face concealed that. “Not a bloody spy,” he growled. “Came here to find my French girlfriend.”

Allarde snarled an oath in German, pulled out his pistol, and waved Jack toward the door. His glance and terse command to Cynthia made it clear she was to help the prisoner so he wouldn’t fall over.

She moved to Jack’s right side, the undamaged one, and took his arm. Jack’s muscles spasmed under her grip. He knew who she was, but again he made no sign of recognition. Leaning hard on Cynthia, he stumbled from the room.

Allarde followed, his pistol ready. As they walked, Cynthia used what small amount of magic she could spare to dull Jack’s pain. She hoped it helped.

The corridor seemed ten times longer going back, the vestibule much wider. The guard who had greeted them waited there, and he opened the door.

Down the front steps, Jack almost pitched to the ground. Allarde couldn’t help because he was pretending to be Colonel Heinrich and commandants didn’t help battered spies. The guard saluted again and took up his position outside the door.

Ignoring him, Allarde snapped an order at Cynthia, probably telling her to take the prisoner to his car. The medieval village streets were narrow and twisty, so within a few steps of leaving the small town square, they were out of sight of the headquarters.

Cynthia wanted to whoop with relief. They had done it! By Jove,
they’d done it!

As soon as they were out of sight of the town hall, Jack lurched over to a wall and leaned against it, sweat on his brow. “Are you two
crazy
? You should both be dead or in chains by now!”

“But we’re not,” Cynthia pointed out.

“Thank God,” he said with a crooked smile. “What the devil are you doing here, Cynthia? You’re a lady, not a Nazi soldier!”

“I got you captured, so I had to help rescue you,” she said tartly. “If anyone is going to murder you, it’s going to be me!”

He laughed and wrapped his good arm around her, burying his face in her wet hair. “That’s my Cinders,” he said in a voice whose warmth ran deeper than even the best hearth magic. She clung to him, fighting back tears of relief as she hid her face in the curve between his neck and shoulder.

Jack crushed her close with his good arm, but kept his voice flippant. “Allarde, you are far too convincing as a Nazi colonel. It must be the ducal upbringing.”

“I’m glad your sense of humor has survived,” Allarde said. “We need to get you inside so I can see how bad your injuries are. I’ll help you since you’ve almost dragged Cynthia down.”

Reluctantly Cynthia stepped back so Allarde could assist Jack. Sentimentality could wait. Now they needed to complete this rescue. She scanned the nearby street. The rain had started to let up and visibility was now slightly better than midnight in a coal mine. “There’s a garden shed down that alley.”

Allarde helped Jack along the narrow passage that ran between two houses. The shed was small but sturdily built. Cynthia unlatched the door and moved inside, creating a dim mage light. When the boys were inside, she brightened it since the two small windows had blackout curtains.

A potting bench stretched across the end of the shed with two battered stools in front of it. Shelves of clay pots and well-used tools lined the walls. Cynthia could feel that the gardener had spent many happy hours here.

She pulled off her hat, relieved to be out of the rain. Though Jack’s vicious early storm had passed, steady rain had pounded down on them for all this endless night.

As Allarde eased Jack down on a stool, Cynthia used hearth witchery to fill the small shed with warmth. Jack in particular was shivering, perhaps in shock. “My shoulder is dislocated,” he said through gritted teeth. “Hurts so much I can’t be sure what else is wrong.”

“Then we need to put the bone back into the socket,” Allarde said calmly. “I’ve dislocated my shoulder a couple of times in riding accidents, so I have a good idea of how to fix it. This will hurt like Hades, though.”

“I know,” Jack said raggedly. “Just do it!”

“How come girls don’t learn useful skills like fixing shoulders?” Cynthia said, trying to joke because otherwise she might pass out in reaction to Jack’s pain.

“Girls don’t do the foolish things that cause so many injuries … Aaah!” Jack’s comment dissolved into a gasp as Allarde gently peeled off his jacket.

Cynthia’s nails bit into her palms at Jack’s stifled moan when his shirt came off. She always admired Jack’s fine broad shoulders, and he jolly well needed to have them both working.

Allarde glanced up. “Cynthia, if you drop the illusions, you should have enough power to reduce some of the pain.” His voice was composed, but his pale face showed that he was also finding this upsetting. “You might want to close your eyes, though.”

“Good idea.” Cynthia released the illusions, freeing her remaining power. Then she rested a hand on Jack’s bare right shoulder, trying to ignore the way awareness sparked between them even in these conditions.

Taking Allarde’s advice to close her eyes, she channeled all the white healing light she could muster into Jack’s battered body. Her healing abilities had always been modest, and they were even less tonight despite her best efforts. They were all becoming dangerously depleted, not only physically but magically.

She heard an appalling click, accompanied by a hair-raising muffled cry, then a sigh of relief. “Better,” Jack said. “Much, much better.”

Wishing she could do more, Cynthia asked, “Can we channel some healing energy from Elspeth? It’s a long walk back to the cave.”

Allarde shook his head. “She’s already drained from the healings she did on the family members who needed it. We can’t ask her to give more. We’re going to need a lot of power to get so many people through the mirror.”

It was hard to argue with that, so she didn’t. Allarde continued, “Do you see anything here that could be used as a sling? Jack will need support for his arm.”

She turned to examine the shelves, guessing that part of the reason Allarde had asked that was so she wouldn’t have to watch his swift examination of other injuries. She couldn’t block out Jack’s gasps of pain, though. If only she could do more!

Back resolutely turned to the two boys, she said, “Here’s a stack of rags, nicely washed and folded before the Germans arrived. And an apron, too.”

The irregular pieces of fabric were worn and had probably been ragged even before being consigned to the garden shed. Giving thanks to the good French housewife who had washed everything before being driven from her home, Cynthia shook out the apron. “This one is large enough to make a sling,” she said, passing it to Allarde. “The smaller rags might work for bandages.”

“Of which we need a few,” he muttered. After a few minutes, he said, “You can turn around now.”

She did, and found Jack pale but dressed again with his left arm in a sling and a piratical bandage over his left eye. There were also crude bandages in a couple of other places. Allarde had obviously paid attention when people or animals needed treatment.

Jack managed a crooked smile despite his drawn face. “How did the rescue go? You must have got the scientists away or you wouldn’t have come back for me. What about the families?”

“Success for both missions,” Allarde replied. “Nick and Elspeth are guiding the scientists and most of the family members back to the cave.”

“But Tory and two of the children were cut off in the castle and had to find another way out,” Cynthia said glumly. “We don’t know exactly where they are.”

Jack swore under his breath. Cynthia had noticed that secret missions and danger brought out bad language even in those who generally never swore. Though she was concerned about Tory, she had reasonable faith in her roommate’s abilities. It was Jack she was worried about.

Before his eye was bandaged, she’d seen how damaged it was. They needed to get him to Elspeth quickly, before inflammation set in. If that happened, he might end up blinded in both eyes. Or worse. After the beating he’d taken, inflammation was a lethal possibility.

“Tory will be soon back, Allarde,” Jack said reassuringly. “And with the two children in tow. She’s ingenious and multitalented.”

“I hope so,” Allard said, his expression shuttered. “But the countryside is alive with search parties. She’ll have to be very, very careful.”

“So will we.” Jack levered himself up with his good arm. “Despite your excellent repair work, I’m going to need help if we’re to make decent speed. Can I have your arm, Allarde?”

As Allarde silently offered it, Cynthia doused her light and opened the door. When and if they got safely home to Lackland, she promised herself a nice bout of weeping hysterics. She really was not cut out for heroism.

CHAPTER 34

“Are we lost, or should I not ask?” Rebecca asked in a weary voice.

Tory winced. “Not lost, I know the right direction. But I’m having trouble finding the way through this maze of hedges and lanes.”

“Not to mention Nazi search parties roaring past on the roads. I thought that one pair would see us for sure. Did magic keep them from noticing?”

“Probably, but that sort of magic has its limits. We were lucky they weren’t watching as carefully as they should.”

“As long as you know we’re heading in the right direction, we’ll arrive there eventually.” Rebecca sighed and adjusted Aaron, who was asleep in her arms. “Will you be able to take us to England if the others have already gone by the time we reach your cave?”

“That won’t be a problem. I’m best in our group at mirror magic.” Tory wiped water from her wet face. “Though I might need to rest for a few hours first, I can get us to England. Your family will be waiting for you.”

“That’s good enough for me.” Rebecca’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I didn’t think I’d ever see my father again.”

Rebecca’s fear had not been misplaced. If she and her mother and brother had been shipped off to Germany, the family would have been broken forever. Tory really liked the other girl. She hadn’t once complained and she accepted the explanations of magic with remarkable calm.

She insisted on carrying Aaron, too, saying that he felt safer with her and that Tory must keep her strength up. But she looked as if she badly needed a rest.

“I have an idea,” Tory said. “There’s a little barn ahead where you and Aaron can nap while I scout the best route. I’ll climb that hill and float up to the tallest tree where I can get a better view.”

Rebecca gave a sweet, tired smile. “That would be very welcome.”

The barn proved to be an excellent choice, with several cows and goats warming up the atmosphere and a pile of clean hay for Rebecca and Aaron to rest in. “I won’t be gone long,” Tory promised. “Half an hour or less.”

Rebecca settled back, the sleeping boy tucked under her arm. “If I weren’t so tired, I’d worry about being separated, but at the moment, I could sleep on hot coals.”

“I think we have only a mile or so more to go,” Tory said. “After I pick out the best route, we’ll join the others very soon.”

Rebecca was probably asleep by the time Tory left the barn. Tory longed to join the others, but if she didn’t keep moving, she’d never make it back to the cave.

The hill nearby wasn’t steep, but floating up to the tallest tree on the crest gave enough height for her to get a better view of the landscape. Finally the rain had ended and a sliver of moon illuminated the ancient hedged lanes that wound through the patchwork quilt of fields. Dawn wasn’t far away.

As Tory had guessed, the wooded hillside that concealed the cave was visible. From this height, she saw that there was a farmhouse near their barn with a lane ambling past. If they turned right into that lane, then left and right again, they should reach the hill soon and only have to cross one road.

Her vantage point also showed the lights of the search cars and foot patrols that were combing the countryside. There were so many searchers that she suspected the Germans had enlisted local policemen to join the hunt. The Nazis did not want Dr. Weiss to escape, and she feared they’d rather see him dead than with the Allies.

Praying that everyone else had made it back to the cave, she glided to the ground and headed down the hill. She could have floated, but using magic would tire her even more than hiking over the muddy ground.

The lane she’d seen started at the edge of the woods. Numb with fatigue, she followed it toward the barn. She was nearing the farmhouse when machine-gun fire blasted crazily from the upper floor.

Panic spiked through and she dove, glad the mud softened the impact. Fatigue vanished, replaced by fierce awareness. After taking cover under a hedge, she studied the farmhouse. A chill went through her when she saw that the weapon on the upper floor was aimed at the small barn where Rebecca and Aaron were resting. How to stop that rain of death? She was no warrior.