Laws of Magic 6

by Michael Pryor

  The thought did little to cheer him. He wondered if he wasn’t overlooking something, something that could make a difference.

  He turned, looking for some common sense from George, to find that he and Sophie had managed to fall asleep.

  Sleep was a stranger to Aubrey. The roar of the engine set his teeth vibrating, and the constant ‘thump-swish’ of the wings was jarring. Besides, he wasn’t about to sleep when Caroline couldn’t, but when he tried some inconsequential chat, her monosyllabic responses didn’t encourage him to keep it up. She was locked on course as much as the ornithopter was.

  This gave him more time to think, to prepare for a confrontation where the future of the world was at stake. His mind went to the magical connection that he shared with Dr Tremaine.

  During his vigil in the cave overlooking Dr Tremaine’s stronghold, Aubrey had felt the connection come and go, as was its wont. Intrigued, he’d spent time pondering the implications of the connection and its composition. He had an inkling that the Law of Entanglement and the Law of Division could shed some light on it, so while their pursuit wore on, he took out his notebook and immersed himself in a number of formulations suggested by these laws to see what light they could shed on the mysterious phenomenon.

  When he became aware of the world again – some time later – the skyfleet had vanished over the horizon. With no glimpse of it, not even the thunderheads, it felt as if they were making no headway.

  ‘Can we catch them?’ he asked Caroline. He kept his voice as low as he could to avoid waking Sophie and George.

  ‘I doubt it,’ she said, ‘but we’re not giving up. If Tremaine’s devil fleet falters, we’ll have them.’

  Aubrey tapped his chin. ‘What if we had some assistance?’

  ‘You have something in mind?’

  ‘As the skyfleet was approaching the chateau, I was constructing a spell to deflect any bombs. It occurs to me that I could rework such a spell to provide us with some impetus.’

  ‘Providing impetus to an aircraft in motion sounds as if it might involve some level of danger.’

  ‘I wondered about that.’ Aubrey hummed a little, to himself. ‘I’m thinking that I might be able to conjure a tailwind.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘If I can displace sufficient air in the right place, other air will rush in to fill the gap. Air rushing in a particular direction sounds just like wind to me.’

  Caroline pursed her lips for an instant. ‘You understand that ornithopters are temperamental at the best of times, don’t you? And since the best of times means stable, calm conditions, your plan would suggest that we’ll be flying an ornithopter in the worst of conditions.’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Sounds like a challenge. When do we start?’

  ‘Do you think we should wake Sophie and George first?’

  Caroline rapidly ran a hand over the switches, adjusting dials and knobs. Their speed dropped noticeably. ‘I’ve tucked the wings into a stable climbing position. The nose configuration is now well trimmed.’ She glanced into the back. ‘Let them sleep. They’ll wake up soon enough.’

  CAROLINE WAS FLUSHED AND BREATHING HEAVILY. SHE pushed back hair that Aubrey thought was wonderfully wild and free. ‘Let’s not do that again soon, shall we?’ she said huskily.

  Aubrey had to agree. The Gallian landscape was a pretty thing, but not when it was screaming toward them as it had been just a few minutes ago.

  ‘And no more upside down, please,’ Sophie added in a small voice.

  ‘We can do without that twisty rolling, too,’ George added. ‘Quite lost my appetite there for a while.’

  ‘I’ll do my best in the future,’ Caroline said, ‘but I thought both manoeuvres were preferable to breaking up and being strewn across farmland.’

  George pushed his head forward between Aubrey and Caroline. ‘I say, is that the coast?’

  ‘And I’m sure that wall of cloud ahead is actually what we’re after,’ Aubrey said. ‘Are we still gaining?’

  Caroline craned her head to catch a glimpse of the countryside they were skimming over. ‘I’d say so. Not as much as when your magic wind had us in its clutches, but we should pass the skyfleet within the hour.’

  ‘Over the straits,’ Aubrey said carefully. ‘Since we’re doing so well, what do you all say to a slight detour?’

  IN THE DYING LIGHT, DR TREMAINE’S SKYFLEET WAS SPREAD across nearly a mile in a V-shaped formation, the most gargantuan of the warships in the vanguard. It had slowed as it left Gallia behind and this had allowed the ornithopter to close on it more quickly than anticipated.

  Realising this, Caroline sent the aircraft climbing, gaining altitude until the line of cloud-formed ships was stretched far beneath them, flanked by the wall of storm clouds. She had to wrestle for a moment with the starboard wing, which had developed an annoying grinding, but from this position, with the help of binoculars Sophie produced from her rucksack, Aubrey was able to study Dr Tremaine’s fleet.

  This was worth the time, he told himself. Gathering information about the disposition of the skyfleet might be vital in deciding how best to combat it. The Directorate, the military, needed as much intelligence as it could get.

  The flagship would have been the largest battleship in the world, if it had been on the sea. Aubrey judged it to be at least twice as long as the Impervious, the pride of the Albion fleet. The three turrets of twin mounted guns, fore and aft, were unheard of. Despite the fact that the ship was made of cloudstuff magically wrought to mimic the steel and iron of real battleships, it was a frightening beast. It looked as if it could destroy a city by itself.

  It was accompanied by more than a dozen lesser battleships and a score of destroyers, cruisers and attendant craft. It was a terrifying fleet, correct in every detail apart from one.

  ‘Not many crewmen,’ George muttered.

  Aubrey scanned the walkways and decks of all the ships but saw no-one. The gun turrets were unmanned, the catwalks were empty, the stairs were abandoned. In ships of this size, fully underway, Aubrey would have expected to see dozens of crewmen at work on the hundreds of tasks required to keep a ship steaming along happily.

  Another puzzle.

  He motioned Caroline to halt their advance.

  Aubrey had thought, while crawling, exposed, through no-man’s-land, that there had to be a Better Way. When being seen was such a life-threatening handicap, a method of avoiding notice was greatly to be desired. He knew that the Directorate, under Commander Craddock’s guidance, was experimenting with approaches to disguise troops, military hardware, and even buildings, but nothing had been forthcoming.

  With Sophie’s talent in the area of illusion and seeming, Aubrey wondered if they might be able to approach the stormfleet and not immediately be blown out of the sky.

  He looked over his shoulder. ‘Sophie, how much work have you done with the Law of Familiarity?’

  Sophie shrugged. ‘Most disguising spells use it. When Caroline and I entered Dr Tremaine’s factory in Stalsfrieden, the spell I used made the guards think that we belonged there.’

  ‘Exactly. But have you ever used it to disguise something that wasn’t human?’

  ‘An animal?’

  ‘What about something non-living, like a machine?’

  ‘Ah, you want to disguise this ornithopter!’

  ‘I say.’ George leaned forward. ‘Is that a good idea? I mean, shouldn’t we get to Trinovant as fast as we can?’

  ‘We won’t tarry long, but anything we can find out about these ships will help in determining a strategy against them.’ He rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘I want to get nearer to Dr Tremaine’s flagship. I don’t imagine he’ll allow an Albion aircraft to come alongside, not unless he has changed considerably.’

  Caroline didn’t move her head. ‘Sophie, I give you per mission to poke Aubrey with something sharp if he starts getting pompous.’

  Sophie studied Aubrey, who was still considering the impl
ications of Caroline’s thinking she could give someone permission to do something to him. ‘I think he has already started,’ she said.

  ‘That’s his last chance, then. Poke him if he continues.’

  ‘Familiarity,’ Aubrey said hurriedly. ‘If someone looks in this direction, they need to imagine that they’re seeing something that belongs.’

  ‘Like a cloud, old man?’ George offered.

  ‘That would be useful if we remain at a distance, but I’d like to get closer than that.’

  ‘A bird,’ Sophie said suddenly. ‘If someone looks across and thinks that we are a bird, it might seem unusual, but not threatening, no?’

  ‘Perfect,’ Aubrey said, ‘and I think I might have something that can help here. Do you know anything about the Law of Similarity?’

  Sophie shook her head.

  ‘The Law of Similarity states that an object can be encouraged to assume the characteristics of something it resembles.’

  George nodded wisely. ‘That’s the one you used to turn our ornithopter into a bird after we rescued Major Saltin.’ He cocked his head at Sophie. ‘He saved our life that way.’

  ‘I’m thinking,’ Aubrey said, doing his best to retain control of the discussion, ‘that I can blend some elements from a Similarity spell into a Familiarity spell of your devising. Since this ornithopter is already bird-like, it should increase the effectiveness of your spell.’

  Sophie sparkled. ‘That is brilliant, Aubrey, and not pompous at all!’

  ‘Now, get to work,’ Caroline said with tilt of her head. ‘This circling is stupefyingly boring.’

  Sophie’s increasing ability and facility with spells of seeming and appearance had been on Aubrey’s mind. Her spellcasting diffidence came from lack of practice, he’d decided, and some wayward teaching when she was younger. In discussions about her training, he’d had the impression of a series of harsh, disciplinarian magic instructors who insisted on rote learning. Aubrey understood her rejection of magic, if this was the case. He would have struggled under such a regime, despite his love of magical learning. Sophie was sunny, clever, humorous, but she wasn’t infinitely patient. Like Caroline, she wouldn’t suffer fools gladly.

  With a jolt, he straightened. Then what on earth are Caroline and she doing with George and me?

  ‘Aubrey?’ Sophie said. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Me? I’m perfectly well, thanks. Just thinking. And you?’

  ‘I’ve nearly finished the spell. Will you look at it, please?’

  Sophie’s spell making was clean and precise. She’d left her workings behind before she’d written out her final version, which was useful as he could follow the thinking that lay behind what she’d crossed out and changed along the way.

  He couldn’t fault her logic. Even though he may have taken a different approach with the parameters for dimensionality, he accepted that her use of spatial and relative coordinates was an inspired method of ensuring that they remained disguised at all times.

  He also approved of her use of Achaean. The ancient classical language was well known and relatively straightforward to work with. For a rusty spell caster, it was a good choice.

  He looked up to find her gazing at him anxiously. ‘Is it sound?’

  ‘Sophie, it’s a marvel. I couldn’t have done it.’

  ‘Now you’re making fun of me.’

  He shook his head. ‘I recognise good spellwork when I see it.’

  Sophie coloured and took the notebook he gave her. ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘You cast the spell.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘After I’ve merged it with the spell to increase the birdiness of the final result. Then we should be ready.’

  SOPHIE FINISHED HER SPELL SMOOTHLY, IF A LITTLE nervously, and Aubrey immediately felt the pulse of magic about them. ‘Well done, Sophie.’

  George grasped her trembling hand. ‘I’m always impressed by impressive women, and believe me – I’m very impressed now.’

  She sighed, then smiled. ‘I’m glad I could help.’

  Aubrey could see how much casting the spell had affected her. Her face had blanched with the effort and her shoulders sagged.

  ‘You’ve done well,’ he said to her.

  ‘Is it always like this?’ She put a hand to her chest. ‘I feel drained, but also as if a string had been plucked inside me.’

  ‘Nicely put. It affects different people in different ways, but that tension and release is a common report.’

  ‘I’m not sure if I like it.’

  ‘Some people hate the sensation so much they give up magic altogether. Others find that they crave it.’

  Sophie peered from the window. ‘So now we cannot be seen?’

  ‘Anyone who looks in this direction will see a bird. If he doesn’t look for too long, he should simply go about his business. Since you’ve done such a fine job, he should even fail to notice the sound we’re making. Most likely, he’ll ignore it or assume it’s coming from something else nearby.’

  Caroline caught his eye. ‘Are we ready?’

  ‘Can you take us alongside the flagship?’

  ‘Port or starboard?’

  ‘Whatever is easier.’

  ‘Port, I think. Hold on.’

  Before Aubrey could respond, guns on the warships about them erupted, firing in the direction of the Albion shores. The ornithopter jolted and Aubrey banged his head on the bulkhead, but Caroline soon had the aircraft steady and level again.

  The guns on the battleships continued to fire, flame and smoke lancing from the massive barrels. The sound was all-encompassing; the ornithopter shook as if it were possessed. Tiny metallic sounds came from all around them – rattles, pings and creaks, all of which were designed to create panic in ornithopter passengers.

  ‘What are they firing at?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘I can’t see …’ Caroline said.

  ‘There!’ George pointed.

  Some miles ahead, to the west, a hapless weathership was the target of the skyfleet’s guns. Huge eruptions of spray marked where the shells had missed, but Aubrey knew it was only a matter of time. The weathership could cut its anchor and run, but with the massed barrage mustered by the skyfleet, such a course of action would be hopeless.

  ‘Why?’ Sophie asked in a tiny voice. ‘It’s defenceless.’

  ‘It could send warning to Albion.’ George’s face was set. ‘Cowardly dogs.’

  Any doubts about the intention of the barrage or of the efficacy of the cloud-made weapons disappeared when the weathership erupted in twin gouts of flame. The explosion shook the ornithopter, but Caroline held it steady through the buffeting.

  ‘Two shells struck at once,’ Aubrey murmured, but he was relieved to see lifeboats pulling away. The crew must have abandoned ship, not that he blamed them.

  Aubrey had no way of knowing if a message had been transmitted before the crew fled – or, indeed, if a telegraph operator was gamely tapping away when the shells finally landed. Weathership operators were tough customers – they had to be, moored far from land for months at a time, charting and recording weather patterns – and he could imagine at least one of them doing his duty.

  The guns rained shells on the smoking ruins of the weathership, far beyond any need. Aubrey supposed that it was simply target practice.

  ‘We’re coming up fast.’ Caroline’s voice was strained.

  Their circuit high above the perimeter of the flagship was an education, and a grim one at that. The flagship was immense. It was as if Dr Tremaine had taken the latest battleship plans and simply doubled everything. As they whipped past, a shadow in what was fast becoming night, Aubrey estimated that she must be at least a thousand feet long from stern to bow, and she’d displace fifty or sixty thousand tons. If she were in water, he reminded himself. Six gun turrets, three forward, three aft, with twin fifteen-inch guns in each, superfiring. If this ship were on the high seas, it would be more than a match for anything in the Albion flee
t, but the amount of steel required to build something like this – not to mention the time it would take – would make such a construction impossible.

  Unless it were made of cloudstuff.

  Wings clattering with the effort – and with an unsettling grating noise coming from the starboard pinion – Caroline performed a feat of aviation that Aubrey would have stood and applauded, if not for the fact that he was flailing for a handhold to steady himself.

  From their lofty position, she sent the ornithopter in a manic dive, slicing between the flagship and the battleship a few hundred yards away. Then she dragged the protesting craft around, under the hull of the flagship, and then up past its stern – where Aubrey was startled to see that its name was Sylvia – and into a rush along the vast grey flank.

  Aubrey was assaulted by magic. It poured from the Sylvia, but as they hurtled by he was buffeted by concentrations, hard nodes of magical intensity, in specific zones, and he had the flavour in his ears that suggested the presence of the magical artefacts.

  They swung alongside the massive superstructure, the towering construction amidships that housed the command deck. They sped along the flank of the giant ship, passing at the level of the bridge, far above the deck level, and Aubrey spied a lone figure on the walkway.

  Instantly, every part of him wanted to cry out a warning, to seize the controls and spiral them away, to put the mass of the flagship between them and the man who was gripping the rail and slowly turning his head, scanning the skies before settling his ferocious gaze on them.

  Dr Mordecai Tremaine bared his teeth, drew back, and flung a handful of nothing at them.

  CAROLINE’S REACTIONS WERE FASTER THAN AUBREY’S useless warning cry. She sheared and dropped the ornithopter to the port side – but it was too late.

  Dr Tremaine’s magic stopped them, mid-dive, as quickly as running into an aerial brick wall. Amid the cacophony of shattering glass and tortured metal, the ornithopter buckled, metal falling away from it in shreds.

  Trapped in the now-useless machine, they began to fall.

  Wind screamed through the ruined craft, shrieking with delight at their predicament. Caroline wrenched at the controls. ‘I’ve lost everything!’ she cried, but she didn’t stop punching at switches, hammering at dials, dragging on the controls.