Hour of Need tlom-6 Read online

  He was in a world of water (that kept rolling over the top of him when he least expected it), darkness (that did its usual job of concealing objects long enough for them to sneak up and do various kinds of damage) and noise (which was just dashed annoying). He flailed weakly, then took another large mouthful of water – salt water – which only made things worse.

  His collar was tugged. Dazed and floundering, he suspected it was another inanimate object trying to drown him when a voice came to him. ‘Aubrey! This way!’

  He shook his head and it cleared somewhat, only to find that he was still in what was left of the ornithopter as it wallowed in the waves, undecided about whether it was going to plunge into the depths.

  Caroline was framed in the doorway. She’d lost her beret. Her hair was in disarray. She stretched out a hand. ‘Hurry!’

  Aubrey had a sudden, awful realisation that even though he hadn’t perished, the matter wasn’t over yet. He clutched his satchel of precious notes, then clawed off his seatbelt, just as the shattered windscreen let in a huge surge. The shockingly cold water dragged him over the back of his seat and scraped him against what had been the ceiling of the ornithopter, but now was more like a sieve.

  The water receded. Aubrey had sense enough to sling his satchel around his neck and grab hold of a stanchion. He coughed, wiped his eyes with his other hand and found an anxious Caroline still waiting for him. He lunged for her hand and together they tumbled out through the doorway.

  Moments later they were reunited with George and Sophie, shivering despite the greatcoats the seamen had surrendered after dragging them into the lifeboats. The boat rolled in the swell, while the wind had the edge that comes from driving for miles over non-tropical waters. Aubrey clutched the gunwale with one hand, Caroline’s hand with the other, grateful for this little wooden refuge in the immensity of the sea.

  A baby-faced commander scrambled to join them. ‘You’re from the Directorate,’ he said, eyes widening when he took in their sodden uniforms. ‘You should be able to tell us what’s going on, then.’ He looked more closely at Aubrey. ‘I know you,’ he said slowly, then he performed the difficult task of recoiling while squatting in a crowded lifeboat. ‘You’re the traitor!’

  Immediately, Aubrey was the focus of the entire crew of ex-weathershipmen. Minutes ago, they had been welcoming, partners in adversity and the like. Now they turned resentful eyes on him, ready to take revenge for being bombed.

  He heard a click beside his ear. In other circumstances, once he recognised it he would have been extremely anxious or, given the chance, running in the other direction. This time, however, it was a comfort.

  ‘He isn’t a traitor,’ Caroline said. She gestured with her revolver. ‘But I’m not sure we could convince you of this, here and now. So, instead, you’re going to row us to Imworth harbour and drop us off. All the time, I’ll have this very powerful revolver trained on you, so do row well.’

  ‘There’s eight of us,’ a voice that Aubrey noted came from the far end of the boat, at the stern, ‘and that’s a six-shot Symons. You can’t get all of us.’

  ‘That’s a point,’ Caroline said brightly, ‘but if it comes to that we’ll only have two of you left. I’m sure we could overpower two of you, if we have to. Besides, what does it matter if only six of you perish if you’re one of the six?’

  ‘What if you miss?’ the same argumentative voice pointed out. Aubrey noticed that some of his crewmates, those closer to Caroline and her revolver, tried to shut him up, but he had the tone of someone who’d argue on his death bed.

  ‘I don’t miss,’ Caroline said.

  ‘How do we know that?’

  ‘Oh, you’re asking for a test, are you? Very well. Can I ask you to sit up straight while your crewmates lean to either side? No? Very well then. Skipper, I suggest that you get your men rowing with some vigour.’

  This announcement was greeted with only a modicum of grumbling. Aubrey guessed that Caroline’s no-nonsense demeanour had convinced them more than any swaggering threats could have.

  A shadow fell on them and the skipper cast an eye heavenwards with well-mastered apprehension. The skyfleet had reformed after its circling and destruction of the weathership. It was heading away from them. ‘Is Albion being invaded?’

  ‘Invaded?’ Aubrey looked up at the sky. ‘No. It’s far worse than that.’

  68

  The coast of Albion stubbornly refused to get any nearer, even after two hours of determined rowing from the disgruntled crew. With the gentle rolling of the lifeboat, added to Caroline’s closeness and the rushed spell casting that had saved their lives, Aubrey was struggling to stay awake and failing when George leaned across to him, speaking low so the weathershipmen couldn’t hear. ‘I think I know where we are.’

  With some effort, Aubrey restrained himself from attempting a quip about being at the aft end of a lifeboat, and spoke in the same hushed tones. ‘Imworth is over that way, isn’t it? To the north-west?’

  ‘True, but we’ve a fair distance before we get there.’

  ‘Where we’ll have some explaining to do.’

  ‘Which is why we should put in over there.’

  George gestured with a single finger, shielding it with his body from the scrutiny of their enforced shipmates. A scattering of lights was showing on the cliff tops a few miles away.

  Aubrey peered through the night, doing his best not to make it look obvious. The cliffs loomed over a narrow strip of beach where waves boomed, sending up spray that looked like mist at this distance.

  ‘It doesn’t look like a good landing place.’

  ‘That’s the point. Imworth is the only good harbour along this stretch of coast, but if we can land here and climb to the top of the cliffs, the train line isn’t far away. We’ll be far from here before the alarm can be raised.’

  Aubrey yawned. His eyes watered, blearing the clifftop lights and turned them into little stars. ‘If we can land, I think I can get us to the top.’

  69

  The weathership skipper argued when Aubrey ordered a landing, but Caroline’s revolver-backed counterargument carried the day. As the lifeboat was buffeted by the roaring waves – and once when rocks grated heart-stoppingly along the keel – Aubrey wondered if George’s plan were such a good one at all.

  The skipper proved to be a decent fellow. When Aubrey and his friends stood dripping on the narrow strip of wave-hammered stones, he suggested that they surrender their firearms and he’d take them to Imworth. When they refused, he shook his head and ordered his men to push off.

  The wind whipped spray in their faces. George grabbed Sophie as a brute of a wave nearly bowled her off her feet.

  ‘Now what, Aubrey?’ Caroline asked. Like all of them, she was drenched to the waist – a result of leaping out of the lifeboat into the wild surf – but she still was able to look collected and stylish.

  ‘Hold hands. All of you.’

  Aubrey was becoming polished with levitation spells. They soon left the shingle behind and drifted through the gloom, alongside the improbably white face of the cliffs and into the scrubby, stubborn bracken that faced the sea.

  An hour later, after Sophie had laid a subtle disguising spell on Aubrey’s features, they stumbled wearily into tiny East Stallington Station, a few miles from where they’d landed. George used the public telephone at the station to report to the Directorate, confirming the identity of the skyfleet that had broached the borders of Albion and the surmises about its intention. He’d barely hung up when the Trinovant train pulled in. Within seconds, Caroline had leaped into the cabin of the locomotive and used her pistol to commandeer it. She wanted to ensure that that the driver didn’t do anything silly like adhering to a timetable and stopping all stations. Aubrey appreciated such thoughtfulness as he made himself as comfortable as possible in the warm, noisy cabin, and went to sleep with his satchel on his lap.

  70

  Trinovant was in the clutches of the small hours of the m
orning by the time the train reached St Swithins. Aubrey and his friends leaped from the train as soon as it had slowed enough, and sidled through a place that was crowded despite it being a time when all good citizens should be abed.

  Aubrey stopped at a grimy, red-brick pillar near a darkened workshop entrance. He yawned, then peered at the helmeted figures on the platform opposite, tall amid the anxious Trinovantans who were waiting, suitcases and valises by their sides, to leave the capital. ‘I know how this will sound,’ he said to his friends, ‘but how do I look?’

  ‘Not at all yourself.’ Caroline stretched, reaching for the ceiling with both hands linked. ‘And I assume that’s just what you’re after.’

  ‘Sophie, you have a real talent for this sort of thing,’ Aubrey said.

  Sophie was looking about anxiously at the nervous throng. ‘Are you sure? I can try another spell if you are unhappy.’

  George turned away from the platform, folding his arms. ‘Police.’

  Aubrey straightened his jacket. ‘Let us go about our business, then, as all innocent people should.’

  Aubrey held his breath as he and his friends squeezed past the four police constables in greatcoats who were casting about with lanterns and checking doors. He nodded at them and received wary acknowledgement in return as the nervous young men recognised the uniforms of the Directorate. Even the remarkably attractive Caroline and Sophie failed to bring a smile to the lips of the constables, and Aubrey wondered exactly what they’d been told. Were they looking for Aubrey Fitzwilliam, traitor of Albion, or was this simply part of the general climate of mistrust that war had brought?

  Once free of the crowd that was choking the station, they made their way toward the Eastride underground station. Walking through the quiet, night-time streets, Aubrey noticed how the stars were hidden by clouds, a low overcast sky hanging over the capital. Crossing at the intersection of Bennett and Garland Streets, a ghostly beckoning caught him as he was about to step from the footpath and he nearly overbalanced. Caroline caught his elbow, glanced at him and frowned as he rubbed his chest with his free hand. ‘What is it?’

  Aubrey couldn’t help but look skywards. To the north, out over Stapledon and Allingham, a mass of clouds broke apart. The outlines of Dr Tremaine’s skyfleet, black against the dark grey of the thunderheads, were unmistakable. ‘He’s here.’

  71

  When they reached Darnleigh house, they were expected – and immediately taken to the planning room to find Commander Craddock and Commander Tallis.

  The heads of the two branches of the Directorate were circling around the Big Board – a huge table with a gigantic map of Albion. As if it were a child’s game, operatives were moving pieces about. Most were white, indicating Albion regiments, squadrons and fleets, but an ominous cluster was black, and it was arranged directly over Trinovant.

  The room itself was windowless. Noticeboards covered the walls, with dozens of desks taking up the space directly underneath. Telephones rang with muted urgency while hordes of operatives took notes, passing them to other operatives who scurried off, handing them to the brooding senior figures around the Big Board or decamping via one of the many doors to other parts of the building.

  The atmosphere was of controlled, but tense, authority. Voices were hushed, movements deliberate. The scraping sound as operatives leaned over and used long-handled rakes to move pieces on the Big Board was insistent and portentous.

  Craddock glanced their way as they entered, then tapped Tallis on the shoulder. Together, they left the Big Board and swept Aubrey and his friends to a corner that held a small conference of senior operatives until a word from Tallis sent them packing.

  ‘The situation isn’t good,’ Craddock said immediately, ‘but with your warning we’re doing what we can. Our remote sensers confirm that Tremaine himself is up there, circling the capital.’

  ‘Twenty-five thousand feet is far beyond the capabilities of any of our dirigibles,’ Tallis growled. He bounced on his toes, hands behind his back, and looked as if he personally wanted to punch Dr Tremaine in the face. ‘We’re preparing squads of aircraft, doing what we can, ready to throw everything at him.’

  ‘We need to, sir,’ Aubrey said. ‘Dr Tremaine is aiming to bypass the need for a blood sacrifice. Instead, he’s aiming to work directly with the magical field generated by Trinovant itself. Nowhere else on earth is there such a concentration of people in one area, which suggests that he needs all of it.’

  Tallis scowled. ‘What the devil are you talking about?’

  ‘On such a scale?’ Craddock said, ignoring Tallis. ‘Impossible.’

  ‘I believe Dr Tremaine has two things that will help him. Firstly, the potential of the accumulated magical artefacts. Secondly, he’s discovered the Universal Language for Magic.’

  ‘Ah,’ Craddock rocked back. ‘The abducted magical theorists.’

  ‘We’ll need a full report of your activities, but not now,’ Tallis said. ‘We understand that you’ve seen Tremaine’s stronghold, and you have some observations from the Divodorum front that could be important.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Aubrey said and thought of the pages of notes he’d taken.

  ‘And we had the incident in Korsur,’ Caroline added. ‘It may be important for the analysts to hear about that.’

  ‘Korsur?’ Craddock said vaguely, his mind clearly on Aubrey’s previous revelations. ‘I hope Tremaine hasn’t been up to anything in Korsur.’

  Now, that’s ominous, Aubrey thought. ‘Why not, sir?’

  Craddock made an impatient gesture with a hand. His attention was on the Big Board. ‘I’m sorry I brought it up. We have more important things to worry about.’

  ‘And Dr Tremaine probably had more important things to do,’ Aubrey said, ‘yet he dropped everything to take possession of a large piece of Crystal Johannes from Korsur.’

  Sharply, Craddock turned away from the Big Board. ‘Dr Tremaine has some Crystal Johannes? For all our sakes, tell me this isn’t so!’

  ‘A large piece, sir,’ Aubrey said, shocked by Commander Craddock’s reaction. The head of the Magic Department rarely showed emotion, yet here anger and fear were clear on his face.

  ‘As big as a church door,’ George put in. ‘That’s how the villagers described it.’

  ‘Craddock?’ Tallis barked. ‘What is it, man? What’s special about this stuff that has you so worried?’

  Craddock had his eyes closed and was rubbing his brows with the tips of his fingers. ‘Long ago, when it was more common than today, Crystal Johannes was used by the magicians of the day to help their spells. Properly used, it can have a focusing effect, concentrating a latent magical field. I had thought this property forgotten since none had been found for so long, but evidently I was wrong.’

  ‘It’s the sort of thing Dr Tremaine would know,’ Aubrey said softly, ‘and would figure into his plans.’

  Caroline looked from Craddock to Aubrey. ‘So this means that Dr Tremaine’s spell could be even more powerful than you’d thought?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Craddock said. ‘If he uses the Crystal Johannes he will have an untold magnification of his power.’

  We really didn’t need that, Aubrey thought. He caught George’s eye and began to look for ways to slip out of the planning room.

  An operative hurried up and thrust a slip of paper at Tallis, who read it and scowled even more volcanically. ‘The blasted High Command won’t authorise our deployment of aerial squadrons!’

  Craddock sighed. ‘Fools.’

  ‘They say they’re in the middle of preparing for a push in Gallia and need air support. They think this skyfleet is a diversion.’

  ‘Can I help?’

  Aubrey turned. A figure he hadn’t noticed earlier was approaching. ‘Father!’

  ‘Aubrey.’ Sir Darius extended his hand, held Aubrey’s gaze for a moment, then greeted the others. ‘Caroline, George, good to see you. And Miss Delroy – a pleasure.’

  It was done swiftly,
but Aubrey admired the way that, even in the middle of a crisis, his father did enough to make them feel part of the enterprise.

  ‘Prime Minister,’ Craddock said, ‘matters are coming to a head, but we’re having trouble with the High Command. It’s crucial that we move now and yet we’re meeting recalcitrance instead of cooperation.’

  Aubrey watched his father intently. Sir Darius didn’t try to mollify Craddock, who was more agitated than Aubrey had ever known him to be. Craddock simply stood there, very still, his hands pressed together in front of him. Panic and Sir Darius were strangers, Aubrey realised. It was part of what had made him a formidable soldier. In a crisis, instead of becoming frantic he remained fixed, holding himself still until he had chosen a way ahead.

  Sir Darius addressed Aubrey. ‘What do you think?’

  Aubrey was taken aback. His father was asking with straightforward urgency. Aubrey had seen him in this mode a hundred times – he wanted advice, and he wanted it from the best available person. Yet he’d bypassed the most senior intelligence chiefs in Albion and, instead, was asking him.

  ‘We need to act immediately,’ Aubrey said and he was glad his voice was as even and controlled as his father’s was. ‘Every opportunity to stop Tremaine must be used.’

  ‘Good man.’ Sir Darius turned to Craddock and Tallis and Aubrey’s surroundings came back. The faint ringing of telephones, the hushed conversations, the dusty light from the electric globes overhead.

  The world proceeded.

  ‘Craddock, Tallis,’ Sir Darius said. ‘I’m authorising immediate deployment of your people. You’ll have whatever you need. I’ll take full responsibility for sending a skirmishing force in advance of the main sortie. Whatever and whenever that is.’

  ‘Finley Moor, sir,’ Tallis said. ‘Can you get your staff to let them know that Directorate people will need help as well as the army forces?’