Heart of Gold

• Cover
  
• Title Page
  
• Copyright Page
  
• Dedication
  
• Chapter One
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Chapter Five
  
• Chapter Six
  
• Chapter Seven
  
• Chapter Eight
  
• Chapter Nine
  
• Chapter Ten
  
• Chapter Eleven
  
• Chapter Twelve
  
• Chapter Thirteen
  
• Chapter Fourteen
  
• Chapter Fifteen
  
• Chapter Sixteen
  
• Chapter Seventeen
  
• Chapter Eighteen
  
• Chapter Nineteen
  
• Chapter Twenty
  
• Chapter Twenty-One
  
• Chapter Twenty-Two
  
• Chapter Twenty-Three
  
• Chapter Twenty-Four
  
• About the Author
  

M
ICHAEL
P
RYOR

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced
or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet
search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means,
electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying
(except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the
Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by
any information storage and retrieval system without the
prior written permission of Random House Australia. Any
unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct
infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and
those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

Laws of Magic 2: Heart of Gold

ePub ISBN 9781864714760
Kindle ISBN 9781864717358

A Random House book
Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd
Level 3, 100 Pacific Highway, North Sydney NSW 2060
www.randomhouse.com.au

First published by Random House Australia in 2007
This edition first published in 2010

Copyright © Michael Pryor 2007

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines
or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions
provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning
or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior
written permission of Random House Australia.

Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be
found at
www.randomhouse.com.au/offices.

National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication Entry

Author: Pryor, Michael
Title: Heart of gold / Michael Pryor
ISBN: 978 1 86471 863 8 (pbk.)
Series: Pryor, Michael. Laws of magic; 2
Target audience: For secondary school age
Dewey number: A823.3

Cover illustration by Jeremy Reston
Cover design by
www.blacksheep-uk.com
Internal design by Mathematics

For all teachers, everywhere.

A
UBREY
F
ITZWILLIAM KNEW THAT CRISIS WAS
another word for opportunity. He simply wished
that he saw more of the latter and less of the former.

A
UBREY GRIMACED, TIGHTENED THE LAST VALVE ASSEMBLY
and closed the ornithopter's cowling. He stretched, wincing,
just as his friend George Doyle spoke up. 'Aubrey?'

'Hmm?'

'What's bright orange and floats through clouds?'

'Riddling, George? Really, you need to find something
more worthwhile to do.'

'It's not a riddle, old man. It's what I'm looking at right
now.'

With mechanical knowledge an important part of the
ornithopter pilot's exam, Aubrey had worked hard on
familiarising himself with every aspect of the complicated
machine – while George spent much of the
evening lounging on a bench, propped on one elbow
and reading a newspaper. Now, he was peering out of the
window of the workshop at the night sky. Aubrey wiped
his greasy hands on a rag and strolled to see what had
caught his friend's attention. 'Where?'

A pearly-grey blanket of cloud hung over Finley Moor
Airfield and stretched to the south, where it reflected the
many lights of Trinovant, the heart of the Albion Empire.
Thunder growled nearby.

'There. That glow.' George pointed to the north-east,
past the control tower – dark at this time of night – and
the dirigible mooring masts. Four long, grey cigar shapes
bobbed at rest. They were the pride of the Albion airship
fleet, the eight-hundred-foot-long Imperial class, the
most advanced lighter-than-air craft in the world.

The orange light was coming from something in the
clouds – something large. Aubrey frowned, trying to
make out what it was, then it burst through and he
froze, all flippancy drying up instantly. A flaming dirigible
stagered across the sky, its nose angling downward
as it lost lift, sagging in the middle. Fire had enveloped
the front third of the sleek airship, puncturing the
internal gasbags. Flames lit up the airfield in a ghastly
hell-light.

Aubrey's tiredness vanished. He flung the greasy rag
aside and sprinted out of the hangar, a thousand decisions
competing for his attention. He threw open the door of
the nearest ornithopter. It was a Falcon model, not his
favourite, but it was a six-seater, with a largish cargo bay,
and that was what he wanted.

George caught up and seized his arm. 'What are you
doing, old man?'

'That's a Gallian airship, some sort of experimental
model. The crew members are going to die up there
unless we do something.'

'You've never done a night flight before,' George
pointed out.

I know
, Aubrey thought.
And I flew solo for the first time
just two days ago
. 'How hard can night flying be?' Aubrey
vaulted into the pilot's seat. 'It's the same sky, after all.'

'It's not the sky I'm worried about.' George squeezed
his broad-shouldered frame into the co-pilot seat. 'It's the
ground that's waiting for us if you make a mistake.' He shook
his head. 'This is madness. Shouldn't we send for help?'

'No time. Those poor souls don't have long.' Aubrey
ran through his pre-flight checklist, decided it would take
too long in the circumstances, then pulled the ignition
lever. The engine coughed into life and he seized the
controls.

The great metal wings creaked and stretched. Aubrey
used the foot pedals and the landing gear whirred into
action. He felt the bird-like craft settle, tense, and then
give a stomach-dropping thrust as its legs kicked upwards,
hurling the machine into the air. The wings twisted and
beat, noisily driving upwards.

Aubrey forced the craft to climb almost vertically. He
flicked his black hair as it fell in his eyes. 'Where is it?' he
shouted over the crashing of the metal wings.

'Left!' George shouted back. 'Port, I mean! Over there,
past the sewage works!' He pointed. Aubrey forced the
ornithopter around until the dirigible came into view
overhead.

He pulled back on the wheel with all his strength, and
sent the machine into a testing climb. When he'd gained
enough altitude, he levelled off and swept toward the
crippled airship.

A huge gout of fire erupted from the nose of the dirigible.
Aubrey gritted his teeth and wrenched at the
controls. George shouted as a jet of flame reached for
them, a wave of heat screaming like a flock of harpies.
Their craft skated and heeled, the port wing canting
while the starboard wing flailed wildly. His heart
hammering, Aubrey held on, glad for the belt that kept
him in his seat.

From the rear of the ornithopter came the shriek of
struts protesting under strain. Aubrey held his breath and
eased off the controls. The rending noise slowed, but then
he heard the sharp pings of rivets giving up and popping
loose. Immediately, metal crashed against metal, grinding
horribly.
Not a good sign
, he thought. With little choice, he
ignored it and concentrated on keeping the craft steady.

The Falcon was approaching the dirigible almost
directly head-on. Aubrey banked to port and swooped
along the vast flank of the airship. The Falcon bucked a
little, but Aubrey anticipated and held the line.

The entire front half of the dirigible was ablaze. The
smell of burning rubber was harsh in Aubrey's nostrils
and he grimaced. He eased the Falcon toward a tight
turn around the airship's stern, aiming to glide along the
other side.

George shouted and grabbed his arm. The
ornithopter, delicately responsive, dipped and shuddered.
Aubrey had to strain the controls, adjusting wing pitch
and attack, to right it again.

'Don't do that!' he shouted.

'Someone's still alive!'

Aubrey risked a glance as they rounded the tail. A
stocky man in the uniform of the Gallian Dirigible
Corps was in the rear observation cockpit, waving
desperately.

'We'll come back for him.' Aubrey steered toward the
bow, where the gondola clung to the belly of the dirigible.

The gondola was the long cabin where the captain
controlled the airship. If Aubrey was able to come alongside,
he might be able to get the ornithopter to hover
long enough to take on survivors. The Falcon could
carry four passengers, but Aubrey was sure he could cram
in six, then shuttle back for the rest.

He licked lips that had suddenly gone dry, and began
to edge the Falcon closer. He concentrated on keeping
his hands steady.

A mighty groan came from the airship, followed by the
sharp, bright noise of metal reaching the limit of its
strength. Automatically, Aubrey sheered off and dropped
away. Then he climbed, not wanting to get caught in the
rain of debris falling from the crippled dirigible – struts,
wire, shattered glass, burning fabric.

He glanced up and, to his horror, saw that the internal
frame of the airship was collapsing. Tormented metal
screamed and buckled. One of the motor units wrenched
loose and fell, still whirring, to the ground far below.
Then the entire gondola tore away. It tilted and hung for
a moment, then it plummeted.

Immediately, the remnants of the dirigible lurched
upwards, much lighter now. The clouds opened around
it, then swallowed the flaming leviathan of the air.

Sickened, Aubrey closed his eyes, grieving for the lost
crew. Brave souls, gone in an instant. He banged the
instrument panel with a fist, cursing his failure to save
them. Should he have gone for help as George suggested?
Was he simply being too rash, too overreaching – again?

'What now?' George shouted.

Aubrey narrowed his eyes. He could still do something
to help. 'The cockpit. The survivor.'

He scanned overhead and saw the remnants of the
dirigible wallowing out of the clouds, shuddering like a
whale in its death spasms. The remaining motor units
were whining desperately, but the dirigible had begun its
final plunge.

Aubrey realised his jaw was aching from the tension.
George grunted, then swore as oil sprayed across the
windscreen.

That's all I need
, Aubrey thought numbly. He couldn't
see a thing through the streaks and smears of black muck.

Doing his best to stay calm, he ran through the
commonplace spells he'd memorised since he'd begun
learning magic. He seized on one he'd used for practical
jokes, an application of the Law of Attraction. The
elements were straightforward, the duration easy to
handle. Usually the spell was used to make things hard
to separate – to humorous effect – but this time Aubrey
inverted the spell. The oil fell away from the windscreen
as if it couldn't bear to be near the glass.

The ornithopter reared, then dropped in the turbulent
air caused by the burning dirigible. The flames had
almost engulfed the entire airship and the heat beat on
Aubrey's exposed skin. The ornithopter shuddered, then
slipped sideways. He caught it with an upward wing beat,
but the strain was causing the metal laminates on the
fuselage to shred and peel. There was no natural way to
bring the ornithopter close enough to perform a mid-air
rescue.

It'll have to be magic, then.

George pointed. The tail of the airship had tipped
upwards, like the stern of a sinking ship. The figure in the
cockpit was pressed up against the glass.

Aubrey flinched as violet-white light flashed through
the Falcon's cabin. Hard on its heels was an immense
crack that made the ornithopter ring like a gong. Dazzled,
with coloured specks dancing in front of his eyes, Aubrey
groaned. As if they didn't have enough to contend with,
the weather was closing in. The ornithopter quivered, as
if it were a real bird caught in a storm.

A real bird.

Feverishly, Aubrey's mind seized on the comparison.
The Law of Similarities came to him, the well-established
components blazing across his mind, clear and sharp.

The ornithopter was like a bird. With an effort, and the
properly constructed spell, he could make it more so.

He chanted the spell, dropping the values into the
unfolding formula in the way that fitted best. He
announced each element as crisply as he could while
trying to hold the bucking craft steady.

'Hold on!' he barked to George. The interior of the
ornithopter began to glow, but it was different from the
dirigible's flames and the harsh glare of the lightning.
Streaked with green and yellow, every surface began to
shimmer, a spiky phosphorescence that reeked of magic.
Aubrey's magical senses jangled in response.

Another boom and the ornithopter was again rocked
by thunder. Aubrey wrestled controls that were growing
increasingly sluggish and he dragged the craft around the
nose of the dirigible.

George let out an oath as the substance of the ornithopter
rippled. Wide-eyed, he clutched at the control
panel, seeking something to hold onto, then jerked back
as it flowed underneath his fingers. His face was rigid
with terror as the machine shifted shape, threatening
to dissolve and pitch them both into the ferocity of
the storm.

Then they were no longer in the cabin of an
ornithopter. Wind howled and plucked at them as they
lay flat on the back of a giant metal bird.

'Hold on!' Aubrey shouted – unnecessarily – and
scrabbled to grab something himself.

He grinned, excited even in the middle of all the
tumult. The spell had worked. The ornithopter had been
encouraged to assert its similarity to a real bird, to become
more than a machine. Exposed to the elements, a long
neck thrust out in front of them while a fan-like tail spread
behind. Great brass wings feathered in the shifting turbulence.
Aubrey could see that the glass of the windscreen
had become the glinting eyes of the creature, while the
hydraulic pipes and electrical wiring conduits had merged
into the body of the bird, making tendons and muscles.

Aubrey looked down and gulped. The ground was a
long way away. He narrowed his eyes against the
whipping wind, the heat of the flames and the smoke of
the stricken dirigible alongside them. His fingers dug
into the metal feathers and he was thankful the bird's
back was broad.

George stared at him and down at the metal bird, then
grinned and gave a nod of approval. 'Don't worry! I'm
not letting go!'

The metal bird clashed its way toward the observation
cockpit. Aubrey urged it on.

The dirigible had finally given up the struggle. Huge
rents ran across the metallic skin, exposing the interior
fabric and ruined aluminium skeleton. A gasbag ripped
free and, intact, shot up through the clouds. Deprived of
this lift, the dirigible sank even more swiftly.

The metal bird slid sideways, then banked right in a
turn that had both Aubrey and George scrambling to
stop themselves sliding off its back. Just when Aubrey had
jammed his left foot against what he suspected had once
been a fuel line, the metal bird plummeted and his
stomach tried to find its way out of his ears.