The Mirror Mage

38. The Attic

There was no time to waste. The Rider's black hair was damp with sweat and the odour coming off his leg was becoming more noticeable by the minute.

Unfortunately, the mirror they needed was fixed to the wall upstairs in Mallow's quarters.

Mallow summoned two helpers to lift the Rider onto a stretcher and carry him up. Billoa had given him a shot of hemal for the pain, but careful as they were while moving him, he passed out before they managed to get him halfway. Ben thought that might prove to be fortunate for both their sakes.

The two helpers laid the stretcher down in front of the mirror, then with their help, Ben attempted a pack-strap carry. He heaved the Rider onto his own back and grabbed each wrist. Then he pulled his patient's arms forward so that his armpits rested on Ben's shoulders and his arms were held tight against the front of Ben's body. Ben leant forward slightly so that the Rider's weight was balanced more evenly. His knees fell forward to rest against the back of Ben's legs and his feet dangled awkwardly.

"Are thou set?" Mallow asked, her voice tight with concern. "Best to go quickly. He will get heavier by the minute."

"As ready as I'll ever be," Ben panted. The Rider was a dead weight. Staggering slightly, he eased forward into the mirror.

He must be getting better at this, thought Ben. There was no sound of breaking glass behind him. The next thing he noticed was that he could no longer feel the Rider's weight on his back. In fact, he could not feel him at all. He knew he hadn't let go of the other man's wrists but he couldn't feel them either. Worried, he glanced down but could see nothing, not even himself. Strange that he hadn't been aware of that on previous trips. He supposed he had been so focused on the mirror lights he hadn't paid attention to anything else.

Should he go back or keep going? Ben hesitated. He was as certain as he could be that he hadn't let go of the Rider. He had to trust that he was still carrying him, despite the confusing signals to his brain.

He took stock. There was the path he had taken to Wentworth Manor, glowing faint but present, and the mirror light at the end was still bright and clear. He felt a burst of relief. Luke hadn't taken a hammer to it, then.

Ben kept going, step by step toward the light, praying that the Rider wouldn't wake too soon and lash out in panic.

Eventually they reached the mirror and Ben peered through, curious to see if anything had changed. He was taken aback to realise he could see nothing at all, just darkness. What had happened? The mirror was shining from this side so he had assumed it was still in one piece. Then a simple explanation occurred to him, and he gave a sigh of relief. It must be night time in England. There would be no reason to have any lights burning in the attic.

Ben stepped through. Something rough pressed against his face, trying to smother him. Startled, Ben instinctively tightened his grip on the Rider's wrists and pushed through as strongly as he could. He was certain that whatever danger he was facing in the attic was going to be a better option than being stuck halfway, in and out of the mirror. The sudden weight of the Rider on his back had him stumbling forward.

Shaking his head furiously from side to side did nothing to dislodge the obstacle and as soon as he was sure they were both clear, he grasped the Rider's wrists in one hand and thrust out with the other.

Suddenly he was free. He stared down in momentary confusion at the heavy brown cloth now heaped on the floor. He gave a wry smile. Not an opponent then. Evidently it had been draped over the mirror in an attempt to stop him—or anybody else—coming through the glass. Well, that hadn't worked.

He gritted his teeth. He'd known Luke wasn't going to be thrilled to see him again, but that was too bad, Luke would just have to suck it up and help him get the Rider to hospital. Surely, he would allow Ben to borrow his car, even if he refused to take them himself.

Ben started toward the attic door but then stopped. The Rider was heavy and awkward to carry. They'd both be better off if he left him here and went to find Luke and ask for his help. He kicked the brown rug into a semblance of a rectangle and carefully lowered the Rider onto it. He was still unconscious. Ben worried whether it was safe to leave him but then, the sooner he was gone, the sooner he'd be back. He turned him on his side, into the recovery position and straightened up. Then he froze.

Luke's mother stood in the doorway. He recognised her immediately, despite the months that had passed on Earth. However, instead of the welcoming smile she had offered back then, she was glaring at him with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. Of more immediate concern was the shotgun clasped in both hands, pointing unwaveringly at Ben's stomach.

"Who the hell are you and how did you get in here?"