Hour of Need tlom-6 Page 10

  ‘I’m sure it’s interesting to both of you,’ Caroline said. ‘I think I’m speaking for the rest of us when I say that we’d much rather see your work in action than hear it discussed.’

  With that, they set about making a village vanish.

  25

  ‘If I didn’t know better,’ George announced in the darkness, ‘I’d think I’d eaten some bad oysters.’

  ‘I doubt the Holmland army will be sampling seafood on its way to destroy Korsur,’ Aubrey said, but he knew what George was talking about. Almost as an afterthought, he’d woven a spell that would cause a faint level of nausea when facing the direction of the village. He hoped it was subtle enough to encourage anyone approaching to look in other directions, where Sophie had done her best to make more attractive options appear.

  Night had fallen by the time that Sophie and he had completed the hiding of Korsur. Aubrey began the project assuring himself that he would simply coordinate and help Sophie along with her spell definitions. Soon, however, the discussions involved him to an extent that he was seeing places to concatenate spells, joining them together to enhance their effects and their efficiency. Naturally, he cast the spells that enabled this concatenation and one thing led to another…

  The result was a dizzying locality, a hidden village and a thundering headache that tested the limits of his skull. He did his best to hide his discomfort as Sophie was looking wan after her efforts and he didn’t want to make her feel worse.

  Midnight was nearing by the time all was done. Aubrey was yearning for a soft place to stretch out – rock, stone, slab of concrete – but von Stralick chose this time to stroll over from the fire where he’d been conferring with Madame Zelinka. He brought a lantern and squatted next to where Aubrey was sitting, his back against a lorry, a groundsheet spread out beneath him.

  ‘Fitzwilliam, I need to tell you something I neglected to mention earlier.’

  Aubrey yawned, which made his headache move around abominably. ‘Neglected? I can’t imagine you neglecting anything, Hugo.’

  ‘Perhaps neglected is not the right word.’

  ‘What about “held back”? I’ll wager that’s more accurate.’

  Von Stralick still hadn’t regained all the weight he’d lost in his illness, but he was definitely looking more robust. Aubrey decided that Madame Zelinka must have been taking good care of him. ‘Before we left Fisherberg, I had time to meet an old colleague of mine.’

  ‘From your spying days?’

  ‘Indeed. She confirmed much of what the Enlightened Ones reported about the useful opposition to the Chancellor. She also gave me a file before she had to flee Fisherberg.’

  ‘Had to flee? Why?’

  ‘For the same reason I’m not welcome there. The faction of the intelligence service that is now in the ascendant is not the faction to which we once belonged.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Where what?’

  ‘Where did she go?’

  ‘Really, Fitzwilliam, does it matter?’

  ‘It does if you’re suspicious. Which I am.’

  ‘Do not be. I trust her with my life.’

  ‘I hope it doesn’t come to that. The file?’

  ‘Copies of memoranda from the Holmland Supreme Army Command, among other things. They contain details of what they’re calling the next phase of the war.’

  Von Stralick gave him a battered folder, bulging with documents. Aubrey leafed through them and grew increasingly wide-eyed. Troop dispersals, materiel requisitions, supply invoices – and maps. Many, many maps.

  ‘The Directorate would give anything for this.’

  ‘I’m sure they would.’

  Aubrey closed the file and rested his hands on top of it. Von Stralick’s face was shrouded, silhouetted as he was against the campfire. ‘Why are you doing this, Hugo?’

  Von Stralick picked at some mud on the knee of his trousers. ‘Because I am a loyal Holmlander.’

  ‘Passing secret documents to the enemy is an action of a loyal Holmlander?’

  ‘Loyalty is a complex thing, Fitzwilliam, as I’m sure you’ve found.’

  Aubrey recalled his discussion with George about rational patriotism. Blindly following anything was not good. Rationally following something, aware of the issues, the strengths and shortcomings, was better.

  ‘You think that this information will help Albion bring the war to a swift conclusion.’

  ‘I do. A long, drawn-out war would be bad for everyone. Decisive action is needed.’

  ‘Then why have you waited until now to give it to me?’

  Von Stralick was silent for a moment, nodding. ‘It’s you, Fitzwilliam. You are the problem.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘It is difficult to understand you, Fitzwilliam. You are an Albionite, but you do not always act in the interests of Albion. Not obviously.’

  ‘I beg your pardon. I always act in the interests of Albion.’

  ‘It is hard to see that nursing a Holmland spy back to health is in the interests of Albion, for instance.’

  ‘Ex-Holmland spy,’ Aubrey mumbled, his thoughts elsewhere. Had he been acting against Albion?

  ‘And what about in Stalsfrieden? You had a herd of giant concrete animals at your disposal. You could have killed all the Holmland soldiers stationed there.’

  ‘It mightn’t have been as easy as you think. I barely had those beasts under control,’ Aubrey said, but he remembered the chaotic events as they escaped the clutches of Baron von Grolman. Did he overlook a chance to wreak even more havoc?

  ‘Don’t forget what you’ve done here,’ von Stralick continued. ‘You’ve saved the population of an entire Holmland village from being killed. Is that in the interests of Albion?’

  ‘I made sure Albion wasn’t blamed for a massacre, that’s all. Now Dr Tremaine doesn’t have an outrage to rally ordinary Holmlanders behind.’

  ‘Then you went on and saved the village from any reprisals.’

  ‘More of the same. It makes good strategic sense, protecting Albion’s interests.’

  ‘And that is all?’

  It was Aubrey’s turn for silence. Behind them, his friends and the Enlightened Ones were outlined against the glow of the fire, talking in low, casual murmurs. ‘I don’t like to see innocent people being hurt,’ he said eventually. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Tcha! Don’t be afraid of compassion, Fitzwilliam. It is one reason that I am giving you this file.’

  ‘What?’ Aubrey blinked and ran a hand over the dossier. ‘Er, any other reasons?’

  ‘You think about your actions instead of blindly going ahead. That reassures me that I’m doing the right thing.’

  Aubrey cleared his throat. Was it getting cold? ‘I appreciate it, Hugo.’ He opened the file and raised an eyebrow at the assorted photographs of Holmland generals and political leaders. Good portrait quality photographs. ‘And what exactly is the Supreme Army Command planning next?’

  ‘It’s all in there,’ von Stralick said. ‘Feints, withdrawals, build-ups. I spent most of the journey here piecing it together, and I’m not sure that I have it all straight, but it looks as if the generals want to push into Gallia via Divodorum rather than through the north-west.’

  ‘I had fears that this could be the case.’

  ‘Troops have been falling back and digging in on the western front to hold the line.’ Von Stralick leaned forward and sifted through papers. ‘All other capacities will be directed to the Divodorum region. A massive effort will be made to break through into Gallia and crush its resistance. Soon.’

  Aubrey had a moment of insight. This could be a pivotal moment on which the entire outcome of the war depended. Like a boulder balanced on the peak of a hill, a push and it would roll one way, a different push and it would roll the other.

  If this Holmland plan were successful, the world that this would create wouldn’t be one that Aubrey would be happy living in. A battle to break through at Divodorum could be big enough to present the wor
ld with an immortal Dr Tremaine.

  Reasons aplenty to stop this from happening, but Aubrey also spared a thought for the men on the ground. He’d had a glimpse of the developing war front when they’d skirted the trenches outside Divodorum and what he had seen was the dusty, benighted plight of the infantry, dug in amid the blood and terror, holding their positions or trying to advance inch by inch. He remembered the lads who were joining up when George and he had attempted to do the same. Had they met their fate in the squalor that was the trenches?

  If Aubrey could do something to prevent these ordinary men from being ground away, stone against stone, that was reason enough to risk his own life – and the life of his friends, loath though he was to contemplate this.

  ‘Note how the generals talk about strategic aims,’ von Stralick said, ‘and tactical movements and battleground outcomes. From their vantage point, well behind the lines, it all makes sense.’

  ‘I’m sure it does. To them.’ Aubrey hummed a little, thinking. ‘Thank you, Hugo. You’ve given me something else to worry about.’

  ‘My pleasure, Fitzwilliam. In the time I have known you, I’ve come to think that I’d rather have you worrying about a problem than most other people.’

  Von Stralick flipped an ironic salute then slipped off, taking his lantern with him. Aubrey watched the night, the moving figures that were the Enlightened Ones, the shapes of the humble buildings of Korsur, and he reluctantly made an effort to take this new ball of worries and roll it to the corner of his mind.

  26

  The three lorries were a ragtag assortment, but they were efficient and reliable. They made short work of any grade but the steepest, and laughed when two shallow streams needed fording where bridges had been blown up – but Aubrey found them to be the most uncomfortable mode of transport since their wild escape in the belly of a concrete elephant. The seats in the rear were hard wooden slats, dust was sucked into the passenger area with an efficiency household appliances could only dream of, and the suspension had the almost magical ability to amplify every jolt, bump and judder straight through the chassis into the spine of the unfortunate passengers.

  During the journey, sitting in the rear of one lorry with his friends, Aubrey questioned von Stralick, trying to find out more information about the Holmland deployment.

  ‘Who’s in charge of this?’ he shouted to von Stralick sitting next to him. The back of the lorry was only covered by canvas, so the noise was appalling. Caroline was opposite, doing her best to talk to Sophie and Madame Zelinka, while George was frowning over a Holmlandish newspaper one of the Enlightened Ones had given him. Despite his extraordinary lack of ability with languages, George couldn’t ignore the prospect of a good newspaper.

  ‘This new push? Since it’s the army alone, the Supreme Army Command is rubbing its hands together at the prospect of glory and stealing a march over the navy. But inside that august body is the Central Staff.’

  ‘Central Staff? Sounds harmless enough.’

  ‘The Central Staff is the six most senior generals. It is responsible for the conduct of the war.’

  ‘Along with the Chancellor.’

  ‘The Chancellor takes care of the politics, but is cunning enough to realise that running a battle is a specialised task. He leaves the details to the Central Staff.’

  Aubrey sat back. Canvas flapped at his back, and he barely noticed the concerned look Caroline flashed him.

  ‘You’re humming again,’ von Stralick said.

  ‘Just thinking. How far is it to Divodorum?’

  Aubrey desperately wanted to contact the Directorate. He was acutely aware that they were in highly dangerous territory and that they had intelligence that could be crucial to the outcome of the war. It was his duty to let the Albion intelligence services know what was going on.

  After discussing it with his friends, the decision was to get to their secret base in Divodorum and use the wireless installation there. The problem was that Divodorum was on the other side of the border. When Caroline, George, Sophie and Aubrey had made the dangerous crossing from Divodorum to Stalsfrieden soon after the Holmlanders attacked, it had been chaos. Avoiding patrols and supply lines had been a heady, perilous business. Trying to get three lorries across would have been impossible if not for the Enlightened Ones.

  Madame Zelinka reminded them that, over the centuries, the Enlightened Ones had perfected the art of crossing borders unseen and unmolested. She’d put the matter in the hands of Katya, who had conferred with the passage specialists among the Enlightened Ones. The result was this circuitous journey, which was paralleling the Mosa River and taking them through wilderness that looked as if it had remained undisturbed for years.

  ‘How far? I have no idea,’ von Stralick said, ‘but I have a feeling that it might be an interesting journey.’

  27

  Many twistings and turnings later, all sloping downward and bringing them closer to the river through woods that looked impenetrable until one of the Enlightened Ones hanging out of the window of the lead lorry directed the way, they found what Katya assured them was a well-used crossing place – or had been, when the Romans had built the bridge. Now, the bridge was a crumbling ruin, to Aubrey’s eye, pilings well spaced and disguised by creepers and other tenacious vegetation. The Mosa was broad here, a hundred yards or more of deep, swift water, but Katya and half a dozen of her comrades darted off into the undergrowth while Aubrey and his friends wondered how they were going to get across, let alone the lorries.

  The ropes and timbers that the Enlightened Ones returned with looked sturdy enough, but Aubrey wasn’t convinced, even when Madame Zelinka assured him that such materials were kept in caves on either side of such crossings, all over the Continent. Katya explained that it was a matter of bridging the approach with the materials, then, after a lorry had driven as far as it could, the next span was bridged while the span already crossed was disassembled to provide the material for the subsequent span. Once the lorry was safely on the other side, the materials were gathered and the process was to be repeated for the others.

  Aubrey was glad to step back and let the Enlightened Ones take charge. The speed of their construction spoke of many years’ experience, and the way the lorry was driven over the narrow beams made Aubrey stare. When he came to walk across the same narrow beams, he appreciated the skill involved even more.

  It took most of the morning, but the crossing was managed with only a few moments of terror from the more height-averse of the small band.

  Material packed and stowed in a cave nearby, they were on their way to Divodorum. Caroline kept a space in the back of one of the lorries for Aubrey and, snatching happiness where he could, he was comfortable by her side. So much so, he fell asleep on her shoulder.

  He was woken when the movement of the lorries became smoother. Divodorum was in sight and the town was almost unrecognisable.

  The devastation shocked Aubrey and emphasised, more than anything else that had happened, how removed he had been from the realities of the war. Absorbed as he’d been by the need for survival, he had no grasp of what had been happening on a larger scale – but he’d been aware he’d been unaware, and it had grated on him.

  With the lorries pulled off the road, screened by some quickly cut branches, they surveyed the city. ‘Divodorum itself has been under attack?’

  ‘Sorry, old man,’ George said, ‘I forgot you’ve been out of things.’

  ‘The Holmlanders used railway guns, pulled up near Stalsfrieden,’ Sophie explained, ‘and airship attacks, too.’

  Mention of Stalsfrieden reminded Aubrey that the slab of mysterious Crystal Johannes had been taken there, and he wondered if a cross-border expedition mightn’t be in order, once they’d reported to the Directorate.

  ‘An aerial battle took place last week,’ Caroline said. ‘After days of Holmland airships dropping bombs on Divodorum, Gallia managed to scrape together a dozen dirigibles and two score ornithopters. They met a Holmland force
and repelled them thanks to Major Saltin, but they suffered horrible losses.’

  ‘Major Saltin? He’s alive?’ While they were in Divodorum on their previous mission, news had come to them that Major Saltin had perished in an accident.

  ‘He survived his crash, but had to walk twenty miles, avoiding Holmland patrols, to get back to Divodorum. Since then, he’s been in the thick of things, of course. According to reports, he’s still in the city, rallying troops at the fortress, helping to handle reinforcements as they come in via train and sending them off to the front.’

  ‘The townspeople?’

  ‘Mostly fled. With the railway bridge down, a temporary depot has been set up on the other side of the river. Despite Holmland efforts, it’s still open. People are using the road bridge, but crossing the river and joining the train is the quickest way out.’

  The more Aubrey studied the cityscape through his field glasses, the more signs of destruction he could see. Not just the obvious artillery and bomb strikes, but fire had raged through parts of the city too. He saw few signs of occupation apart from a lone figure hurrying along the embankment near the Divodorum docks. The way he kept looking upward, over his shoulder, was an indication that he fully expected death to rain from above at any minute.

  ‘We’ll just have to hope that our base is still intact,’ Aubrey said. He cleaned the lenses of the field glasses before he put them away.

  Aubrey had a great deal of affection for the facility he and his friends had set up in Divodorum. Left on their own with repeated instructions to hold the location, together they had worked to make the dilapidated factory secure and comfortable. George’s considerable handyman skills, plenty of building materials, and lots of time on their hands had transformed the place into a communications centre and base for forays into Holmland.