The Laws of Magic 6: Hour of Need (2 page)

A tense hour later, Dr Tremaine burst out of the back doors of the building, his arms full of metalwork. He shouldered through one of the gates at the rear of the estate. He strode to the edge of the cliff and, with one disgusted motion, flung the metal wide. The pieces fell in a glittering arc, but Aubrey had time to see a boxlike head and what was unmistakably a compact chimney.

Since leaving Caroline and George, Aubrey had had few moments of pleasure, but he smiled as he noted Tremaine’s actions in a notebook – adding to the pages and pages of observations, all in fine, approved Directorate form.

The most alarming development he’d seen, however, had been the magicians who had been brought to the stronghold. Aubrey had found it hard to believe the number of well-known experts who’d been bundled into the outbuildings, though it did explain the disappearances of prominent magical people over the previous few months. He’d recognised Maud Connolly, Parvo Ahonen, Charles Beecher and a score or more prominent theoreticians and scholars. None of them showed any delight at being there, unless manacles and gags had suddenly become signs of honour rather than devices of restraint.

This influx of magical practitioners and theoreticians was disturbing, especially when Aubrey added Professor Mansfield and Lanka Ravi to their numbers. At Baron von Grolman’s factory, Dr Tremaine had mentioned that he had these two luminaries in his keeping, which suggested that he was assembling a formidable array of magical talent, but to what end?

One of the first magical theoreticians to arrive at the complex had been Professor Bromhead, Trismegistus chair of magic at the University of Greythorn for twenty years. A few days after he’d been dragged from a motorcar, the aged savant had appeared in a walled garden to the west of the main house. He’d wandered about, attended by an armed guard. Aubrey hadn’t recognised him at first and he had focused on the lonely figure simply because of a strange device attached to his face. It was a cross between a muzzle, a helmet and a clamp, a metal and wire contraption enveloping the man’s head, but particularly strong around his mouth and jaw. After some careful focusing of the binoculars, Aubrey was finally able to make out who it was and, grimly, he understood that at least part of the function of the device was to stop Professor Bromhead from speaking – and to stop him from casting a spell.

Each of the savants who arrived – some in the middle of the night – appeared later in the walled garden, guarded and wearing the same cage, confirming their identity as magicians, even the ones who Aubrey didn’t know by sight. They were allowed this exercise time for an hour every second day, but otherwise they were hidden away in the clutch of outbuildings to the north of the sprawling two-storey hunting lodge that was the main house.

Nothing good could come from Dr Tremaine’s assembling such a battery of magical knowledge. Aubrey could continue to observe, hoping to communicate this intelligence with the Directorate and then wait for orders – or he could contrive a way to stop the most dangerous man in the world taking the next step in his bloody plan.

With only a few rocks and his wits at his disposal – and with a deathly ill companion to care for – the latter was an unlikely choice, but Aubrey had never resiled from a challenge. He was in a position to intervene, and so he would.

L
ATE THE NEXT MORNING, LYING ON HIS STOMACH AT THE
entrance of the cave and barely breathing, Aubrey held Dr Tremaine in the sights of the rusty Oberndorf rifle that von Stralick had stolen from a farmhouse on their cross-Holmland scramble. The rogue sorcerer was perfectly positioned, standing on the road outside the gates of his cliff-top retreat. Aubrey swallowed, acutely conscious that all his spellwork and preparation had led to this: he had one chance to remove Dr Tremaine and put an end to his warmongering. A careful, steady squeeze of the trigger and it would all be over.

A sound came from behind him. Aubrey tensed, then forced himself to relax. Von Stralick was sleeping comfortably since his fever had broken.

Aubrey waited a moment, but when all was quiet he wiped sweat from his forehead with a finger and looked to re-centre his sights.

In the long nights tending to von Stralick and thinking about how to end the war, Aubrey had come to understand, with more than a little reluctance and with a great deal of conscience-searching, that he had to put aside the misgivings he had about firearms. It was the best method he had – the
only
method he had – to do what was needed.

It was time to shoot Dr Tremaine with a very special projectile.

A standard bullet wasn’t going to stop the rogue sorcerer; Aubrey had seen him walk away after being shot at close range. Something extraordinary was called for and Aubrey had devoted himself to it.

Trapped in the cave and tending to the dangerously ill von Stralick, Aubrey had brought together all his thinking about magic, all of the reading, experimenting and theorising, to construct the complex array of spells which had replaced the bullet in the sole cartridge they had. This magic was some of the most intricate that he’d ever attempted, merging elements from a number of wildly different spells he’d worked with in the past. Hour after hour, in between tending von Stralick, he’d taken apart compression spells, intensification spells, amplification spells, spells that juggled aspects of Familiarity, Entanglement, Attraction, combining them and recombining them, splicing, reworking until he was able to construct a spell-ridden object smaller than his fingernail, but as deadly as anything he’d ever created.

Much of the spell was based on his study of the transformed Beccaria Cage that was now armouring his body and soul against premature separation. He’d also incorporated characteristics of the ensorcelled pearl that had been both a refuge and prison for Dr Tremaine’s sister, Sylvia. The result was a highly compressed binding spell, overlaid with homing spells to counter any misalignment in the old Oberndorf or in Aubrey’s aiming.

When the spell struck its target, Dr Tremaine would be caged in a magical prison, a prison that combined the strengths of the Beccaria Cage and the Tremaine Pearl. The prison would be unleashed, capture its target, then it would compress itself and its contents until it was the size of a marble. The entanglement spell would activate, and the prison would be reeled in, landing back with Aubrey. Dr Tremaine would be imprisoned, neutralised, and he could be brought to Albion for trial.

All Aubrey had to do was to squeeze the trigger. One shot and he could go home and restore his name, knowing the Holmland war effort would collapse without Dr Tremaine’s guiding hand. It would all be over.

Ignoring second thoughts, doubts and qualms, he settled himself in his prone position. He regripped the rifle, making sure it was stable on the flat rock he was using as a firing platform. He found Dr Tremaine with the sighting post and adjusted until it was aligned with the notch. He took a breath, let it out slowly, then drew in another and held it.

The war was about to end.

A
UBREY BLINKED
. H
IS HEAD HURT
. T
HIS WAS ODD FOR
, as far as he knew, a moment ago it hadn’t.

A few other things had changed as well. For one, he thought he’d been staring at Dr Tremaine through the sights of a rifle, but now he was staring up at the shadowy ceiling of the cave. ‘The rifle.’ Von Stralick’s voice came from nearby. ‘It blew up.’

‘Blew up?’

‘You have blood on your cheek.’

‘And egg on my face?’ Aubrey sat up, which transformed his head into a paragon of pure, thundering pain. He stifled a groan and put both hands to his temples. His gaze stumbled across the cave entrance. The carefully constructed firing platform had fallen apart, and what had been the Oberndorf rifle lay in pieces on the stones.

‘Here.’ Von Stralick held out a mug of water. He was still pale, but the half-mocking smile that had been missing during his illness was back.

‘What happened?’ Aubrey asked.

‘Most peculiar, it was.’ With a grunt, the Holmlander sat on a rock next to Aubrey. ‘I saw you squeeze the trigger, then the rifle burst apart without a sound. The barrel flew back and struck you on the forehead.’

‘Ah.’ Aubrey considered this. ‘Remind me to use a brand new rifle if I ever try this again. One that is a little less rusty would be useful.’

Von Stralick shrugged. ‘When I stole it from that farmhouse, I felt that beggars could not afford to be choosers, as you Albionish so delightfully say.’ He brushed the knee of his trousers for a moment. ‘You were trying to kill Dr Tremaine?’

It was Aubrey’s turn to shrug. ‘I wanted to bring him to trial.’

‘By shooting him?’

‘It was a magic spell.’

Von Stralick listened without interrupting until Aubrey finished explaining, then he rose, somewhat shakily, and went to the cave entrance. He stood in the shadows and gazed toward Dr Tremaine’s estate. ‘When I first met you, Fitzwilliam, I was sure you were of little account. You have, however, forced me to revise my opinion.’

‘And this is a good thing, I take it?’

‘You have surprising capabilities. Dr Tremaine would do well to be most wary of you.’

‘I doubt he gives me much thought at all.’

‘You should hope so. It could mean that you may be able to take him by surprise.’

F
OR THREE FRUSTRATING DAYS, WHILE VON
S
TRALICK
gathered his strength under Aubrey’s care and while Aubrey did his best to concoct a replacement plan, Dr Tremaine’s estate was even more a hive of action than it had already been. Lorries arrived in convoys, backed up to the outbuildings and were loaded up before grinding their way down the mountain again. Aubrey made careful note of these deliveries; he estimated the volumes of the packing crates and made particular count of the coils of wire that were delivered – dozens of them, each the height of a man. He also was intrigued by dispatches – furniture and equipment were shipped out of the estate, but also personnel. Exasperated-looking civilians were herded into the backs of lorries, but also many of the muzzled magical theoreticians. Even while itemising each departure, Aubrey was intensely irritated by not knowing how many of these people were present when he arrived at the Tremaine estate. How could he determine how many were still there?

Dr Tremaine came and went twice before von Stralick announced he was fit for action. That, of course, was a matter of definition, for von Stralick’s belt was two notches smaller, and his skin was greyish rather than radiating good health.

‘We need a foray,’ the Holmlander said as night fell. The customary chill was in the air as soon as the sun disappeared. ‘It is most necessary.’

Aubrey was once again lying on his stomach at the cave entrance, using binoculars to monitor a late lorry departure. Filing cabinets had been loaded into it from the main house which, to Aubrey’s mind, didn’t bode well. ‘I’m keen to find out exactly what’s going on in those outbuildings, but only if you’re fit enough.’

‘I am recovered sufficiently, and if I don’t set foot outside this cave I am likely to go mad.’ Von Stralick did a few arm stretches. ‘And I am not the only one.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You have been like a lion in a cage, pacing up and down, finding it hard to sit still. Your frustration is most obvious, and I apologise for making you wait.’

‘Sorry, Hugo. Something is going on down there, and being so close like this and not knowing what it is …’

‘You do not like not knowing. I understand that. Therefore, let us go and find out.’

‘Capital. Through the woods at the base of the cliff is the only way to go, obviously, but we need to choose the best place to cross the road.’

He brought the binoculars to his eyes to determine the best route but at that moment his field of vision was filled with blinding red light and he jerked back with an oath. Almost immediately, a cloud of dust and smoke rushed toward them, followed by a patter of debris, and he scrambled back into what he hoped was the safety of the cave. Blue-green spots danced in front of his eyes and he shook his head, trying to make them disappear.

The cave walls shook as another thumping concussion hit and dust rained down on them. Aubrey and von Stralick both lay on the rocky floor, arms over their heads as one more, then another explosion erupted, slashing through the narrow cave entrance with ragged orange brilliance.

Eventually, all was silent. Aubrey raised his head and crawled on all floors until he could peer through the dust and smoke.

Dr Tremaine’s estate was a ruin, with only the main house still standing. It was virtually untouched, almost huffily facing away from the blackened wrecks that had once been the newer buildings. A row of poplars that had separated the main house from the outbuildings had been shredded, but in doing so had probably shielded the old hunting lodge from worse damage than the single broken window on the second floor.

‘Someone didn’t want anything left,’ Aubrey said. The dust and smoke was quickly being driven away over the cliff by wind, but the nose-singeing, acrid smell of high explosives was enough to make him screw up his face.

Von Stralick rose and slapped dust from his sleeves. ‘Overly dramatic, but effective. A fire would have done just as well.’

Aubrey shrugged. Dr Tremaine rarely did anything without three or four reasons lined up behind each other like divers on the high board, each waiting to show off her new trick. With the estate’s clifftop position, the explosions would have been seen for miles. A signal, perhaps?

More noise rose from below. Shouting, then Dr Tremaine’s familiar figure bounded from the main house. He gestured in the direction of the gates, which were hastily opened, then he disappeared around the corner. The roar of an engine became a scream and the sporty red motorcar skidded into view, then blasted around the circular driveway. Flames from the ruins of the outbuildings glinted on his goggles. He looked possessed, a demon driver with a long white scarf trailing from his neck. The guards at the gate cried out and jumped back as the motorcar slid sideways on its approach. Dr Tremaine grinned maniacally as he dragged on the wheel, turning into the skid, then the powerful engine snarled, the back wheels bit, and the car shot through and onto the road. For an instant, Aubrey was sure Dr Tremaine’s scarf was going to get tangled in the gate, but the fringed ends twisted and untwined themselves with audacious, casual magic.

The car vanished into the dark avenue of trees that led down the mountainside. Aubrey grimaced. It appeared as if Dr Tremaine had cleared his plate before moving on to the next course.

The howl of the engine echoed from the stony face of the hills, growing fainter as it hurtled toward Bardenford. Aubrey made a fist and drummed on the stone in front of him. He had an appointment with Dr Tremaine, but it frustrated him that he didn’t know when or where it was going to be.