Blaze of Glory

by Michael Pryor

  Inside were sound-deadeners, small yellow pieces of magically enhanced wool. He poked one into each ear, sighing with relief when the sound of the wings faded to a dull whirring, then handed the box to George.

  Caroline pushed forward on the controls, sending the ornithopter swooping. Then she banked right in a sweeping arc which had Aubrey straining against his seatbelt. He found himself looking down on Ashfields Station, then Sandway, then the river.

  Aubrey promised himself that he would learn to fly an ornithopter.

  A FIFTEEN-MINUTE FLIGHT LATER, THEY REACHED BANFORD Park. Caroline set the ornithopter in a long, gliding circle while Aubrey looked down.

  The research facility was surrounded by a forest that extended for miles. Penhurst was to the south-west, a hike through the woods. A single road led into Banford Park, where a collection of prefabricated huts stood well separated from each other, no doubt to prevent magical interference patterns from ruining experiments. A single, squat, stone building – Banford – faced a pond in the middle of the facility. All was dark and silent. The place looked as if it had been deserted for years.

  'I'm going to glide in,' Caroline said. Air whistled over the rigid wings. 'Quieter.'

  But more dangerous, Aubrey thought. Nothing he'd seen made him doubt Caroline's skill, but he knew that ornithopters were more responsive when the wings were beating. He tightened his seatbelt.

  Caroline brought the craft around, killed some speed by raising its nose, then feathered the wings slightly. It swooped over the pond, around the stone immensity of Banford, past the research huts, then she deliberately stalled and the machine dropped onto its legs. They flexed, then steadied, and they were down.

  Aubrey looked at Caroline. Even in the darkness and the dim light thrown by the instruments, he could see her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing heavily. 'Well done,' he said.

  'Let's find your father,' she said briskly, after she'd composed herself.

  Aubrey stumbled out of the ornithopter and crouched in the shadow of a rose bush the size of a house.

  George joined him. 'What's the penalty for stealing an ornithopter?'

  'Less than the penalty for failing to save one's country. Or one's father.'

  Caroline slipped out of the flying machine. Aubrey noticed that her bare feet were tiny. 'Where now?' she asked.

  Aubrey chewed his lip. 'I was sure there'd be lights.'

  'Maybe there's no-one here,' George said. He looked to the east. 'Dawn can't be too far away. We could make for the station. We'd be well away from here in a few hours.'

  'Wait,' Aubrey said. 'Let me see what I can feel.'

  Aubrey spread his hand and placed it flat on the chill, damp grass. He pressed, trying to get as close to the earth as he could.

  He could feel stirrings of magic close by, but the traces were stale, most likely the residue left behind by the researchers when the facility was disbanded. He sensed tiny remnants of old earth magic, forgotten charms from people long ago.

  Then he felt a strange magical vibration tingling in his hand. It was muffled, shielded by subtle spells. Aubrey only sensed it because it was familiar. It had the flavour of the magical residue the golem assassin had left, and was very close in texture to some of the spells cast at the burnt church. 'It's underground. Under there.' He stood and pointed at Banford. 'A bunker, I'd say.'

  'How are we going to get in?' Caroline asked.

  'You don't have any other skills you haven't told us about?' Aubrey replied. 'Picking locks? Breaking and entering?'

  'We could go and see if the place is open,' George suggested.

  Aubrey shrugged. 'As long as we do it quietly.'

  The double wooden doors of the main entrance to the stately Banford were locked. Both side doors were locked. The rear door was locked. None of the windows was open.

  Frustrated, Aubrey stood before the front doors again. 'Dr Tremaine is under here. That's where the magic is.'

  'How do you know?' Caroline asked.

  'The magical traces lead right through every entrance. And they're fresh, a few hours at most.' Aubrey put his hand on the smooth wood of the doors. He grasped the brass handle. 'The doors have been enchanted, too. I can feel it.'

  'So we need magic to get inside,' George said. 'Do you know any good unlocking spells?'

  'Tremaine wouldn't want to use a spell every time he went in and out. Too tedious.'

  What would he use? Aubrey asked himself. He'd want something efficient, elegant, automatic . . .

  He'd want the doors to recognise him.

  Aubrey knew that good preparation was the key to successful spell-casting. But in this case, he thought, I'll have to make it up as I go along. Again.

  He hummed a little and slapped his pockets, eyebrows raising when he felt a hard, round shape in his inner jacket pocket. He reached into it and pulled out Dr Tremaine's pearl. He stared at it. 'Remember the illusion spell I cast back in Professor Hepworth's workshop?' he said softly.

  'The Law of Something or Other, no doubt,' George whispered hoarsely. 'Whatever it is, old man, I'd get on with it if I were you.'

  Aubrey moved to one side of the door and cleared his mind, readying himself. He took a deep breath and began.

  Having cast it so recently, the spell came to Aubrey easily. He used the pearl as a focus, as it had been so close to the Sorcerer Royal for so long. Each syllable he chanted set the parameters of the illusion, while the specific sequence of terms circumscribed the effects, limiting them to Dr Tremaine's physical appearance. He shuddered at the thought of taking on any of Dr Tremaine's personality. That wouldn't do at all.

  He had time to adjust the spell a little, to make it even more convincing. Aubrey's inversion of two syllables at the end of the spell, and the elimination of the falling terminal utterance, added what he thought was some flavour of Dr Tremaine's being. He hoped it might help deceive the guardian spells waiting for them.

  He let out a deep breath and turned to his friends. Caroline stared and hissed, her hands curling into fists.

  'Well done, old man,' George said in a strained voice. 'Dr Tremaine has a twin.'

  Aubrey didn't feel any different, but when he looked at his hands they weren't his own. They were long, powerful and bore several wicked scars. 'Let's hope the door thinks so.'

  'That's better,' Caroline said. She stood more easily. 'You can't possibly be Dr Tremaine with that voice.'

  'Good,' Aubrey said, but he felt vaguely insulted. 'Stand behind me.'

  Aubrey spread his arms wide and presented himself to the entrance. He grinned when the door opened with no hesitation. 'Quickly, let's find the stairs down to the bunker.'

  It was easier than he expected. Behind the grand staircase which led to the upper floors was a narrower flight of stairs leading down. Soft buttery lights began to glow as they descended, triggered by their presence. At the bottom of the stairs was an iron door and it, too, opened as they approached. A short corridor led to another iron door which swung back as they neared.

  Inside was a drawing room. Aubrey blinked. Except for its having no windows, the room would not have been out of place in Penhurst or Maidstone. The carpet was richly patterned Olchester, the furniture was solid, darkly polished wood and leather. Glass-fronted bookshelves were crammed with expensive-looking volumes. A harp stood in one corner. The paintings were landscapes full of riders, peasants and haywains.

  Across the room, sitting motionless on one of the large, wing-backed chairs was Sir Darius. Next to the chair stood a tall, dark figure in an extravagant fur coat.

  'Father,' Aubrey breathed. 'Dr Tremaine.'

  'Ah, good to see you all here!' the Sorcerer Royal said, beaming. 'I was just explaining to Sir Darius how I'd change the lbw law if it were up to me, but that can wait. Take a seat. And cancel that illusion, young Fitzwilliam. Devilishly handsome though I am, it's a mite disconcerting seeing myself across the room.'

  A three-syllable utterance was all it took to cancel the i
llusion. Aubrey stared at his father. 'What have you done to him?'

  Sir Darius was sitting stiff-backed, both feet on the floor, arms on the armrests of the chair. His face was impassive, drained of life. The only part of him that moved was his eyes, which met Aubrey's gaze.

  Dr Tremaine chuckled. 'A simple spell. An inverse application of the Law of Animation, as I expect you've already guessed. Much safer than tying him up.'

  'Let him go.'

  'After taking so much trouble to bring him here? That wouldn't make much sense, would it?' Dr Tremaine clapped his hands together. 'And now you're here. Which is a capital thing, as I have a feeling that it may be useful to keep a close eye on you, young Fitzwilliam.'

  Aubrey sensed Caroline slipping to his right, putting a table between the Sorcerer Royal and herself. George stood to Aubrey's left, fists clenched, glowering.

  'You killed my father, didn't you?' Caroline said.

  Dr Tremaine turned and studied her for a moment. 'Ah, Miss Hepworth. I haven't seen you since you were a baby.'

  'You killed him,' Caroline repeated, her voice steady.

  'I'm sorry,' Dr Tremaine replied, lowering his large, dark eyes. 'I loved Lionel. A great friend. A great man. A great mind. I'm glad I have his notebook to remember him by.'

  His face had gone from joviality to sorrow to compassion in an instant. Aubrey blinked. It was as if Dr Tremaine had run through a series of masks, trying each one until he found one that fitted the occasion.

  'But why did you kill him?' Aubrey asked, as he digested the fact that the professor's notebook was in the possession of Dr Tremaine.

  Dr Tremaine shrugged. 'The magic that drove the Black Beast needed a final test. It happened to be Lionel. Rather bad luck on his part, really. It could have been anyone.'

  It was the offhand nature of this declaration that chilled Aubrey. Someone whom Tremaine called a friend was killed just because he happened to be in the wrong place?

  'You really are trying for the Ritual of the Way, aren't you?' he asked.

  Dr Tremaine rolled his eyes. 'I'm sorry that it's so obvious.'

  'You're planning a war,' George said through clenched teeth.

  'Just helping it along a little. To tell the truth, I think the idiots in charge are doing a good job by themselves, but I'm not one to leave things to chance.' He stroked his chin and chuckled. 'My role over the last few months has been like an invisible stage manager, really. Rewarding, if a little frustrating.'

  'You were at the Society for Non-magical Fitness,' Aubrey said flatly.

  'I made sure my Army of New Albion tools were able to escape from that mess. Von Stralick nearly managed to ruin everything right then by luring them there.'

  'And the burnt church? You saved them there as well?'

  A flash of annoyance crossed Dr Tremaine's face. 'Von Stralick's childish coded message was an obvious trap for the Army of New Albion poltroons. I knew I had to get there and help them escape. Alas, the Magisterium was there in force and so my plans have collapsed. For now.' He broke off and looked at the wood-panelled ceiling. 'Speaking of which, it seems as if Craddock's forces have arrived.' He chuckled. 'Doesn't he ever give up?'

  Aubrey heard a muffled explosion overhead. It seemed as if Dr Tremaine was right.

  The Sorcerer Royal sighed. 'It looks as if I must be off. You'll forgive me for leaving so abruptly?'

  'No,' Caroline said.

  Aubrey turned to see that Caroline was holding Ames's revolver in both hands and had adopted a perfect shooting stance. Where was she hiding that pistol? he thought wildly. He had time to marvel at the tears in her eyes, then she fired all six shots without hesitating.

  Dr Tremaine looked irritated and, backhanded, swatted the bullets out of the air. They bounced off a bookshelf and fell to the floor. 'Don't do that,' he said. 'I hate the smell of cordite.' He barked a few guttural words and the revolver disappeared. Caroline stared at her empty hands. She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and started towards him.

  Dr Tremaine's expression hardened. Gone was his cavalier attitude, his banter and his amusement. Instead, he was a cold and malignant creature. Aubrey could see that this was a man who was indifferent to the suffering of others. He would snuff out lives without a thought. 'Enough,' Tremaine snarled, in a voice that was deeper, rougher. 'This part of the game is at an end.'

  He pointed at her and uttered two short words and Caroline was flung backwards, tumbling like a feather in a gale.

  Aubrey moved to help but stopped when he saw that she'd somehow managed to land on her feet. She growled, deep in her throat, and looked as if she were ready to advance on Dr Tremaine again.

  Aubrey was taken off guard by Caroline's fierceness, a contrast to her usual cool demeanour, but he could see that the pain at the loss of her father was boiling out of her unchecked – and it was leading her into mortal danger.

  'Wait,' Aubrey said, and – as he'd hoped – he drew the Sorcerer Royal's ferocious attention.

  'No,' Tremaine said, 'do not try to stop me.'

  Even though Aubrey felt weakened by his recent spell-casting, he could not allow Tremaine to harm Caroline – or escape so easily. If he could slow down the Sorcerer Royal, distract him, perhaps he could give Craddock's operatives time to appear.

  He reached into his pocket. 'I have your sister's pearl,' he said, holding it up.

  For the first time, Aubrey saw uncertainty in the face of the Sorcerer Royal.

  Tremaine let out a long breath. 'I thought I'd lost it. A shade attacked from behind. For a moment I thought it was one of mine, like the one I used to monitor Professor Hepworth's workshop. It wasn't. It slashed my cane from me. I didn't have time to retrieve it.'

  'It's important to you.'

  Dr Tremaine bared his teeth and his eyes blazed like furnaces. Aubrey felt the immense power of the man. 'Give it to me.'

  'I think not.' Aubrey had no strength for anything substantial, but gambled that he would be able to repeat the spell he'd used when he took on Tremaine's appearance, but with a special addition. Like to like, he thought, and quickly muttered a short spell. Instantly, Aubrey was again Tremaine's twin – except this time he was shackled to the original by a magical chain, left wrist to left wrist, bound fast. The chain was massive and it radiated intense magic. He gritted his teeth. Tremaine was not leaving.

  Tremaine staggered and Aubrey felt a wild, fierce joy at landing a blow against such a foe. Then something unexpected happened. Aubrey gasped, catching the breath in his throat, and he realised the bond between them was doing more than simply preventing Tremaine from leaving. He was connected to the Sorcerer Royal's being.

  For a splinter of time, Aubrey was overwhelmed. A cascade of impressions rampaged through him. He was assaulted by the towering arrogance of the man, the utter and complete surrender to ambition and pride. Tremaine, at heart, was brutal, selfish, full of swagger and self-righteousness, with the passion and limitlessness of a force of nature.

  The riot of sensations was suddenly cut off. Aubrey stared at Tremaine, who glared back at him before sneering, then laughing. 'You fool, Fitzwilliam! I've made my soul impervious to such dangers, but obviously you don't know how. The first lesson when you deal with life or death: take care of your own soul first!'

  And Aubrey knew that while he'd been glimpsing Tremaine's being, the Sorcerer Royal had done the same to him. The magical chain was a conduit that ran both ways. Tremaine had been given an insight into Aubrey's parlous condition – and it wasn't unfamiliar to him.

  Dr Tremaine jeered at Aubrey's anguish. He reached into a pocket of his fur coat and plucked out a familiar notebook. He brandished it at Aubrey. 'Even Lionel Hepworth managed to work out a handful of ways to prevent an accidental true death. You are out of your depth, boy, and you are paying for it.'

  Dimly, Aubrey heard Caroline's cry of dismay at the appearance of her father's missing notebook.

  'I can't let you go,' Aubrey gasped. For more reasons than one,
now. Either you or that book might just have some answers for me.

  Contemptuously, Tremaine barked a torrent of harsh, spiky phrases. With a jolt that made Aubrey gasp, the magical chain disappeared and Aubrey was himself again, his Tremaine link vanishing like smoke in the wind.

  'I must,' the Sorcerer Royal said, his eyes blazing. He lifted a hand, but paused. 'Keep my pearl safe for me, Fitzwilliam.'

  Tremaine spoke one word, a word of many syllables. Aubrey had never heard anything like it before. The sound hung in the air shimmering and skating on the edge of perception, but it left a bitter taste in Aubrey's mouth, a harsh, metallic tang that made him feel unclean.

  Then the Sorcerer Royal disappeared.

  Aubrey realised his knees were trembling. He steadied himself against a bookshelf. George started towards him, but he waved him away. He needed a moment to compose himself.

  'Aubrey?' Sir Darius turned his head and worked his jaw. 'Where are we? Why are you dressed like that? And George, a beggar?'

  Aubrey had forgotten he was still dressed like Tommy Sparks and that his clothes were sodden.

  'I'll tell you later, Father. Are you all right?'

  Aubrey went to him, only to hear feet pounding down the stairs. He turned to see Magisterium operatives crashing into the room. 'Don't!' he cried to Caroline, as the operatives surrounded her. The warning was too late for George, who swung a punch and was wrestled to the ground by three businesslike women in black uniforms, the Magisterium having no qualms about including females in its ranks. When George realised who had tackled him and thrown him to the carpet, his expression was a combination of embarrassment and delight.

  Aubrey managed to get to his father's side by the time all the operatives had entered – a score or more packing into the room.

  Craddock entered. 'Sir Darius,' he said. 'Glad to see you're all right.'