Heart of Gold Read online

  Table of Contents

  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

  Heart of Gold

  THE SECOND VOLUME OF

  The Laws of Magic

  MICHAEL

  PRYOR

  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.

  One

  AUBREY FITZWILLIAM KNEW THAT CRISIS WAS another word for opportunity. He simply wished that he saw more of the latter and less of the former.

  AUBREY 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. Immedi
ately, 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.

  As the bird dived, it screeched, a wild clanging cry that joined the din of the thunderstorm and the burning dirigible.

  Aubrey hung on, desperately, fingers whitening with effort. Suddenly the metal bird lunged and struck the observation cockpit with its talons. Aubrey cried out as the glass shattered and the crewman fell, flailing, through the air.
>
  Aubrey hammered at the bird's metal skin, shouting wordless oaths of anger and disbelief. What had he done? Created a monster and loosed it on the world?

  The metal bird folded its wings and dived after the falling Gallian, and Aubrey was forced to cling with both hands. He squinted and tried to think of a spell to stop the creature's madness.

  Then Aubrey's grip was tested again. With a crack like a giant's whip, the bird thrust out its wings and stopped its dreadful descent. The jolt threw him aside and, for a desperate moment, he had nothing to hold onto. He slid, his back scraping on bolts and ridges, until his head hung over the bird's flank. Far below, the dark and hard ground beckoned. Above was the blazing immensity of the dirigible. Neither fate appealed to him. Of course, there now also existed the possibility of being pecked to death by a rampaging metal avian.

  Another jolt sent him head first over the bird's flank, and he only stopped himself tumbling into the empty air by grabbing a feathered ridge. While his heart raced and fear turned his insides to ice, the world wheeled around below, a great, flat dish waiting to catch him.

  Wind ripped at his clothes and gleefully tried to dislodge him. Desperately trying to think of a way out of his predicament, he saw the great talons of the metal bird a few feet below him. They were clutching the Gallian crewman. His uniform was scorched, his eyes were closed. Aubrey couldn't tell if he was breathing or not.

  Aubrey's collar jerked and, for an awful instant, he thought he was about to fall. He looked up to see George grimacing and holding onto his jacket. With his friend's timely help, Aubrey managed to clamber up until he was again flat on the back of the bird, panting with exertion and exhilaration at his rescue. His fingers ached from clinging to his handholds, but he was alive!

  He put his mouth close to George's ear. 'The Gallian! The bird has him! He's safe!'

  'Like we are?' George shouted. Aubrey waved a hand. Safety, he now realised, was a relative thing.

  Blinding white light peeled the sky apart and the metal bird was flung across the heavens. Its wings flapped in wild, jerky sweeps. Aubrey, blinked, dazzled and deafened, alarmed at the smell of hot metal and ozone. Through black spots that wandered in his vision, he looked over his shoulder to see that half the bird's tail was missing – melted, with black charred streaks.