by Lynn Lorenz
"Aye." He grunted, straightened, and looked at the man he was coming to consider a friend. "Rolf..." Their eyes locked as Stefan hesitated.
"I'll tell Sarah," Rolf whispered.
Stefan nodded once, checked his pocket watch, and called his men together.
The time came and Stefan's group 'ported.
They arrived in the inky black basement, wands drawn. Rolf conjured a soft glow from the tip of his wand and they made their way up the stairs to the first floor. Stefan cracked open the door and listened. Silence and more darkness. He slipped through and took the point. At his signal, each of the men exited the basement and followed him down the narrow hallway, their wands held at the ready.
* * * *
Upstairs, Oliver's group arrived, searched the darkened rooms, and found them all empty. This was not going well. There should have been men here. Perhaps, he thought, Bane and his men were having more luck, but the house remained silent.
The sweep done, he motioned for his men to proceed down the stairs. Strung out along the staircase with Oliver in the lead, the men cautiously stepped on the old wooden stair treads to avoid making any sounds.
* * * *
The two groups met in a large room, both operating in total silence.
Oliver gave Stefan the signal that all was clear upstairs.
"I don't like this, Bane," Oliver whispered as he slipped up to Stefan, standing with his head cocked, thinking.
"It's a trap," Stefan called out, but the warning came an instant too late.
The hair on Stefan's arm rose and the pressure in the room changed. He spun and dropped to a crouch as ten bravos 'ported in, surrounding the patrollers.
"Ambush!" Rolf yelled and dropped to a crouch.
God's own hell erupted. Stefan and Rolf split up, firing as they ran for what little cover there was in the room. Watkins and Hastings used their new tactics to 'port away, only to reappear behind some of the men who surrounded them, firing and dropping their targets. They 'ported, fired again and two more dropped, opening a hole in the line near the door. Oliver and his men escaped through it as they dashed down the hall, drawing off half of the attackers. The patrollers fought in the hallway and up the stairs to the second floor, 'porting and engaging in physical combat. Oliver's men soon caught on and took up the new tactics.
The air smelled as if dozens of thunderbolts had struck the room and it crackled with energy, making some of the men's hair stand on end. A flashing blue haze lit the once-dark house as bolts were fired at will as the battle raged.
Stefan and Rolf were alone in the smoke-filled room with five attackers.
"Where'd our men go?" Stefan searched the haze.
"Upstairs to better positions," Rolf called back, firing and striking one of their attackers.
They could hear the others calling back and forth and muffled footsteps as they fought throughout the house.
Darting forward, Stefan fired, dropping a man. He turned to see two men attack Rolf. Stefan dropped to one knee, fired and scored a hit. Half crawling, half running, he made his way to Rolf's position. Standing back-to-back, they held off the three men left in the room.
"Just you and me, eh?" Rolf laughed as he fired his wand.
"Out-numbered, as usual," answered Stefan, his dark eyes reflecting the blue bolts flying through the air.
One of the men rolled across the floor and fired. Rolf pushed Stefan out of the way and raising his arm, deflected the shot off his vambrace, then dove away. Stefan rolled toward cover as Rolf hit the floor. Rolf found himself behind an overturned table next to Stefan.
"We need better cover," Stefan said as a bolt hit the table. They ducked.
"Aye, and a few more men." Rolf grinned.
On his knees, Rolf looked over the table, took aim and fired. The blue bolt hit the man approaching him square in the chest. Grunting, he fell to the floor.
A blast splintered the wood of the table next to Stefan.
"That came from behind," he called to Rolf. Pivoting on his heels to face his attacker, Stefan watched the man disappear behind a curtain hanging on the wall. Determined not to let him escape, Stefan leaped up and charged toward the open doorway after him. The door was swinging shut, but he threw his shoulder into it, it flew open, and he stumbled forward.
The last man fired at Rolf, grazing his arm. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Rolf touched his hand to the wound, then looked at his bloodstained fingers. Another blast hit the table. He ducked behind it and waited for the next blast, timing his attack. The man fired, and Rolf rose up on his knees, took aim over the edge of the table and fired. The man went down.
"That's the last of them!" Rolf told Stefan. When there was no answer, he turned. Stefan was gone.
* * * *
Stefan stumbled over the threshold and into the dark alley. The door slammed shut behind him. He swung his head back and forth, looking for his quarry. In the dim light, he saw the silhouette of the man as he fled down the alley toward a street.
Stefan fired again. The blast hit the wall of the building and blue sparks flew. He ran, following the man, and fired again. The bolt grazed the brick building just as the man reached the end of the alley. Crossing the street at a dead run, he continued down an alley on the other side.
Stefan, fifteen feet behind him, burst from the alley, stepped into the street. A bright light bathed him in its glow. He swiveled in mid-stride. Two huge eyes stared at him, blinding light pouring from them. His ears rang with a screaming like nothing he'd ever heard before and his heart leapt into his throat.
Something hard and cold struck him. The breath exploded from his lungs, cutting off his scream. For an instant, he was flying. Crashing back into the ground, he rolled like a child's rag doll, and came to rest against the curb.
The initial explosion of pain was so intense it sucked the breath from him. It ebbed and resurfaced stronger than before as he struggled to push it to the back of his mind. He opened his eyes. Dark shapes surrounded him as he lay on his back, his vision blurred.
The pain pulsed again. Closing his eyes in order to focus his mind, he pushed back agony that enveloped his body. No longer in possession of his wand, both his hands were empty. Lightning shot from his right shoulder to his wrist as he tried to make a fist, but his arm was useless.
What the hell happened?
He clenched his teeth to stop them from chattering as his entire body shivered. Never had he felt such pain as unrelenting waves bombarded his brain. He kept very still.
Breath slower. You'll last longer.
He extended his senses to take inventory and felt the warm wetness he was lying in. Blood. Moving his left hand across to touch his right hip, his fingers touched the wet, sticky, shredded fabric that must have been his uniform. He didn't dare touch the damaged flesh beneath.
Where is Rolf?
Closing his eyes, he decided not to call out. If his men searched for him, they would find him soon enough. If the enemy was searching, there was no point in bringing them down to finish him off.
His mind drifted. As he spiraled down into the dark, a single thought dominated his mind.
Sarah.
He would never hold her again.
Trying to fight his way back out of the dark, Stefan met only pain.
He let go.
The darkness wrapped its cold arms around him and dragged him down.
Chapter 26
"It was a trap." Rolf, looking none the better for wear, stood in front of Thatcher's desk and described the events of the previous evening. His hair was a wild tangle and some of it still stood straight out. The rips in his uniform needed patching and the wound on his arm needed tending.
Thatcher stood, leaning on his desk, his expression thunderous.
"Gustav!"
"Aye, sir." Gustav appeared.
"Find Reilly. Bring him to me. Now." Thatcher's voice was like cold steel and his grey eyes had gone hard.
The addler bowed and 'ported away.
>
"Where is Stefan?" Thatcher thought Stefan should be making this report. He suddenly felt very old.
"Stefan is missing, Damon. We looked everywhere for him. One minute I was next to him, and the next he was gone." Rolf began to pace like a caged animal.
"Did he 'port out?"
"No sir, the block was up again and none of us could teleport out. Besides, I'd have felt the pressure change." He waved the idea away with a slash of his hand.
"There was no body?" Thatcher felt his guts tighten as he held onto the back of his chair.
"No, and we searched for hours in the area. He just vanished." Rolf froze as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Chief, you aren't aware if he had some other objective we didn't know about? Something that might have drawn him away?"
"No, for once he was on the same mission as the rest of you." Thatcher sat before his knees gave out. "If we can't find him, we must assume he's been captured."
"Stefan's a powerful warlock, but even he can't stand up against Blackmoor's torture." Rolf's brow furrowed.
"You're right. His powers of mind are considerable, however, pain over a long period of time can make a man do or say anything." Thatcher sat back and came to a decision. "Contact our agents in Blackmoor's organization. See if they've heard of Stefan's capture. When we find out if they have him and where he's being held, we'll need to formulate a rescue plan."
"Aye, Chief Inspector, I'll see to it."
Gustav appeared. "Inspector Reilly is not in the castle."
"It's him, I swear it." Rolf leaned forward on the desk. "I'll find the bastard."
"Bring him to me, Rolf. I want him. Unharmed." Thatcher removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose to ease the throbbing of his head.
Rolf growled low in his throat. "Aye, sir."
"First, get to the healer. Then, find Reilly."
Rolf grimaced, bowed, and left the office.
Gustav paused in the doorway. "Do you think they can break the inspector?"
"Not at first, but if we don't get to him soon, aye, in time they'll break him. Or kill him in the attempt." Thatcher leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
* * * *
Luci returned from her family's estate in the district late in the afternoon and found Sarah sitting on the couch lost deep in thought.
"Welcome back." Sarah tried to sound cheery, but her sigh told a different story.
"What's the matter, Sarah?" Luci sat next to her. "I know you, something has upset you."
"Stefan and Rolf have gone on a very dangerous assignment, Luci. They're attempting to capture Lord Blackmoor."
"It's not like you to worry." Lucy cocked her head and took Sarah's hand. "I know Rolf can take care of himself. I worry, too, but I know there's nothing he'd rather do than be in the patrol."
"Stefan also." Sarah paused. "Luci, there's something I have to tell you. It might explain my worry."
"You can tell me anything, dearest. I hope you know that."
Sarah took a deep breath. "Inspector Bane was here yesterday."
Luci sat up. "And? Did the two of you speak? Or did you throw him out?" She narrowed her eyes at Sarah.
"We spoke. Well, mostly he apologized."
"No doubt. I'll wager there was a touch of begging mixed in also."
Sarah laughed. "I'm afraid I gave him a rough time. For a while."
"Left him dangling, did you? You're learning." She gave a satisfied nod. "Then you forgave him?"
"Aye. He was so eloquent, babbling on about his mistakes and his life." She shook her head.
"And?" Luci tapped her foot.
"He asked me to marry him." Sarah's grin was radiant.
"Oh, Sarah, that's wonderful!" Luci jumped up and clapped her hands together. "I told you he would come to his senses, didn't I?"
"Aye, you did." Sarah grinned. "But that's not all."
"Not all? What else could there be?"
"We married yesterday at the chapel down the street." Sarah bit her lip.
"Married! Oh, Sarah, that's wonderful. I'm so happy for you. Show me the ring!"
Sarah held out her hand.
"It's just beautiful. Truly." Luci admired the ring, then stamped her foot and frowned. "Now I'm furious with you."
"Why?" Sarah blinked.
"You married before me." She pouted prettily. "I always thought it would be me, since you move as slow as a turtle." Then she laughed and pulled Sarah up, enveloping her in a warm embrace.
"We didn't want to wait," Sarah said with a wicked grin.
"And was it wonderful?" Luci's eyebrows rose in question.
"Wonderful and so much more. I'm so glad I waited for him, until it was right. There's another thing, Luci."
"Does this story ever end, dearest?" Luci raised her eyebrows again.
"You must keep it a secret until Stefan's told Thatcher and gotten it approved."
"Of course, whatever you say." She waved her hand and laughed. "We must celebrate. Let's go to the inn down the street. A carafe of their best red wine is called for, I think."
"Some wine and dinner sounds good. Let's go." They threw on their cloaks, then Luci held Sarah's hand and teleported them to the inn.
* * * *
"Moss!" Rolf returned to his room after seeing the healer. The wound was healed, providing yet another scar for his body to wear.
"Aye!" Moss appeared. The little man had a quick smile and sharp brown eyes.
"Get me a fresh uniform." Rolf peeled off his damaged clothes and sat on the edge of his bed. He scratched his chest and stretched, feeling the soreness in his muscles. The addler pulled a new uniform from the armoire.
"As soon as I'm finished dressing, I want you to gather as many of the addlers as possible. Send them out to our contacts in Blackmoor's service."
"Aye, sir."
"Who serves Reilly?" Rolf slipped on shorts, then stepped into the wool trousers and reached for a clean shirt.
"That would be Skylar, sir."
"Bring him to me right away." Tucking in his shirttails, he buttoned up his trousers and pulled the suspenders over his arms.
"Aye, sir." Moss 'ported out.
Rolf finished dressing, then sat and pulled on his boots. Moss returned with Skylar.
"Aye, sir. You wanted to see me?" Skylar was an air elemental, and his skin was tinged soft blue, his hair the color of a thundercloud.
"Where's Reilly? He's not here in the castle."
"He said he was going to Avea."
"Do you know where?"
"Aye, he goes to a woman there sometimes." Skylar frowned. "At an inn."
"I need you to 'port me there. Right now." Rolf's eyes hardened as he pulled his wand from his holster.
"Is he in trouble, sir?" Skylar's eyes narrowed.
Rolf regarded the addler and wondered if he held feelings for Reilly. "Would you care?"
"No, sir." Skylar shook his head and a slow grin spread over his face. Not even Reilly's own servant cared for him.
Skylar touched Rolf's hand and they disappeared.
Rolf and the little addler stood outside a door on the second floor of an inn in Avea. Skylar reached out his hand, closed his eyes, and touched the door. "He's inside, sir. With her."
"Perfect." A wolfish grin showed on Rolf's face. "Wait here. I'll need you to bring us both back when I'm finished."
Skylar nodded. "I'm not going to miss this."
Holding his wand at the ready, Rolf kicked the door open.
* * * *
Inspector Mercy Loch raised her wand and touched it to the forehead of the man cowering in a corner of Thatcher's office. Whimpering in terror, Inspector Malcolm Reilly closed his eyes, muttering a blocking spell as she concentrated, broke through his pathetic defenses, and entered his mind.
"He's seen Blackmoor." There was a look of concentration on her face. "More than once."
Thatcher and Rolf stood in the shadows and watched as she mentally interrogated the traitor. Even though t
hey couldn't see or hear what she did, she was oath sworn to tell the truth and what she revealed would stand in the magistrate's court.
"He told Blackmoor of Stefan's ambush." A pause. "He smashed Rolf's mirror." A fine sheen of perspiration coated her forehead.
Rolf and Thatcher both knew her eyes did not see the room in which they stood, but some inner vision of Reilly's memories.
Rolf's fists tightened and he started forward, but Thatcher placed his hand on Rolf's arm and stopped him. "No, Rolf. Headquarters will deal with him."
Reilly's eyes spilled tears as he struggled to avoid the touch of her wand, but the manacles on his wrists and the shackles on his legs kept him in place.
"Greed. He was well paid for his work, Damon. It's in his room under the bed in a trunk. He did it for the money." She sighed, pulled the wand away from Reilly's head, and he slumped to the floor, his face buried in his hands.
"My father," he sobbed. "What will he say?"
Thatcher looked down at the wretched man. "Not much is my guess. I'll visit him personally and tell him myself, Malcolm. He deserves that much, but I pity him for what is to come." Thatcher shook his head sadly.
Mercy sat in a chair, leaned back, and closed her eyes, exhausted by breaking into Reilly's mind, wading through all the thoughts, memories, hopes, and dreams to sort out the truth.
"What will headquarters do to him?" she asked.
"Court martial, of course. Gaol, no doubt. He put several of his fellow officers in deadly jeopardy, at the least. At the worst, he's a traitor to the patrol. It's for the magistrate to say, though. His father, if he's so inclined, might intervene for him." Thatcher shrugged.
Malcolm Reilly, his face in his hands, broke down and wept. Curling into a tight ball, he wedged himself farther into the corner.
* * * *
Sarah looked up from her book at the tentative knock on the door.
He's back.
She smiled at how the thought of him returning to her made so excited.
Sarah opened the door. Her elated expression melted away. "Rolf?"
He looked away, his eyes searching to land on anything but her. Behind him stood Moss, his hands clasped together.
Luci came into the room. "Rolf, what are you doing here?"
"I came to see Sarah," he said as he stepped in, Moss trailing behind.