Blaze of Glory (14 page)

He stood and stepped outside the ring. For a moment,
while he ran over the spell in his head, he studied the
focusing figure. At this stage, it wouldn't do to leave any
part of it incomplete.

He took a deep breath. He'd gained his second wind,
but he knew he was exerting himself – perhaps unwisely.

Aubrey broke the chalk into small pieces, his fingers
working rapidly. He placed them in the palm of one hand
and closed the other over it. Grimacing, he ground the
pieces of chalk together.

When the chalk was ground finely enough, Aubrey
brought his hands up to his lips, spoke the spell in an
unforced sequence of liquid syllables and blew through a
small hole he'd allowed between his thumbs. Two long
strides, then he flung the chalk dust high into the air over
the circle, where it burst in a flare of light.

Dizziness hit him like a sock full of sand to the back
of the head. He staggered backwards into the arms of
George, who had hurried to him. 'Are you all right,
Aubrey?' his friend asked.

'It's working,' Aubrey whispered.

Inside the circle, a scene was unfolding. It was faded, as
if all the colour had been washed out of it, but figures
moved slowly, clearly.

'Ghosts?' George asked.

Aubrey shook his head and immediately regretted it.
Pain rolled around inside his skull and he felt as if he were
about to vomit.

Inside the circle, the corpse of the young man could no
longer be seen. Replacing it was a night-time scene, with
the young man healthy and unconcerned. He stood in
the dark, with the field glasses up to his eyes. His
untouched meal was near his feet.

Coming up over the edge of the rock, behind the
young man, was another figure. Even though the scene
was faint, there was no doubt of the malignity of the
stealthy intruder. It hunched, then slowly raised itself
until it was standing, still undetected.

This second figure made Aubrey shudder. Naked, it
seemed out of proportion, with arms that were too long,
hanging almost to its knees. Its head was bulbous, hairless,
the size of a football.

It moved with terrifying speed. The young man only
had time to turn, drop his glasses and his attacker was on
him. A blur of motion as the creature swung and the
young man was caught a stunning blow on the forehead.
He fell backwards like a sawn-off tree, his head hitting the
rock with such force that it made George turn away.

The vision faded, and once again Aubrey was looking
at the lifeless form of the unfortunate young man.

'A golem,' he said. He knew that only an extremely
powerful sorcerer could work such magic. But to what
ends? 'Someone has made a creature out of clay to do
his bidding.'

George raised his gun and held it in his arms. 'Where
is it?'

'Still around here somewhere.'

'And so is the Prince.'

'Really, George, you do have a penchant for pointing
out the obvious.' Aubrey was recovering a little, feeling
surer on his feet. He walked over to the body and squatted
beside it. After some silent contemplation, he reached out
and dug some of the thick, orange mud from the young
man's uniform. He rolled it between his fingers, making
a marble-sized ball, and tucked it into his pocket.

He picked up his shotgun and stood. 'Now, if the
golem isn't close by, then where would it be?'

George looked around. 'Aubrey, there's no time for
this. We have to get back to the party and warn the
Prince.'

'Of course. Just a moment or two.' Aubrey stood there,
trying to think like a golem. Or, at least, its master. 'This
position is compromised, George. Once it found our
unfortunate guard here, it couldn't use this location for
whatever it was planning. It's probably looking for somewhere
else.'

'Aubrey, stop this!'

He looked around. Trees blocked his view on all sides,
apart from the cleared swathe down to the shooting
ground. 'As far as I can see from here, there's nothing with
quite so sweeping an aspect as this place. So where would
it go?'

'Aubrey!'

He had it. 'Come, George, I think I know where our
missing golem will be.'

Aubrey led off, limping slightly.

'Aubrey, this is no time to be trying to be a hero.'

He paused on the edge of the climb down. 'Heroes,
George, are generally people who don't know what
they're doing until afterwards. I, however, always know
what I'm getting into.'
I hope
, he added to himself.

Aubrey hurried through the gap in the woods towards
the shooting ground. He trotted through the fallen leaves,
down the gentle slope, doing his best to look in all directions
at once.

It couldn't be accidental, a murderous golem just
happening to stumble on the perfect position to observe
a royal shooting party. Aubrey had no doubt that this one
would still be seeking to fulfil its mission. Somewhere.

Ten minutes later, after scrambling through brush,
thicket and straggling undergrowth, Aubrey lunged for
the cover next to the fallen trunk of a giant beech tree.
George rolled in next to him. 'Have you seen anything
yet?'

Aubrey shook his head. He peered over the top of the
log, surveying the dense stand of saplings ahead. 'At least
tell me what you're looking for,' George whispered.

'Vantage points. I think we're looking for a sniper.'

'A sniper!'

'It's perfect. The sound of a rifle wouldn't be heard
today with all the shooting out there.'

'Can a golem be taught to shoot?'

'Oh, yes. They're nerveless, never get tired while
waiting, never have second thoughts. If they weren't so
difficult to construct, I'm sure there'd be armies of them
defending countries around the world.'

George took Aubrey's arm. 'Aubrey, I insist we go and
tell the others. It's our duty.'

Aubrey gnawed at his lip while he scanned the trees.
What would happen if Bertie was hurt? Aubrey had
known the Crown Prince for as long as he could remember.
His playmate had grown up into the sort of
intelligent, thoughtful young man that augured well for
when he assumed the throne. Many people wanted that
sooner rather than later, to put an end to some of the
erratic behaviour of his father the King.

Aubrey sighed. 'Duty, George. It's your turn to play that
card, is it?'

'Well, I've heard it often enough from you, old man.
Seems to work.' George slapped him on the back. 'Shall
we go?'

Together, they struggled down the slope, slipping over
rocks hidden beneath fallen leaves, weaving between the
young trees, heading back to the shooting ground where
the guns were still making themselves heard.

At the bottom of the slope stood a vast, spreading oak.
It was in a small clearing, a natural dell that opened out
onto the shooting ground. As the slope levelled out,
Aubrey walked towards the oak in silence, gun cradled in
his arms.

When they reached the massive tree, Aubrey put a
hand to the back of his neck. The skin there was prickling,
the ominous sensation that signalled magic was in
the area.

He cast around and a trail of purple blotches led to the
trunk of the oak tree. He held up a hand, catching
George's attention. George raised an eyebrow and Aubrey
pointed up, towards the dense canopy of the oak tree.

Aubrey thought quickly. While not as good a vantage
point as the rocky outcrop, the oak tree overlooked
the whole shooting ground. Aubrey could see the guests
spread out in clumps. It seemed as if some had retired
towards the Big House, while more than a few were sitting
on blankets near the tents, enjoying the refreshments.

Aubrey searched for Bertie, hoping he'd gone back to
the house, but knowing that he was another who would
always do his duty and would be out until the last of the
shooters had grown sick of blasting brass birds.

George pointed. The Prince was with a small party of
perhaps half a dozen people. He seemed to have moved
on from the Holmlanders to some of Professor Hepworth's
colleagues.

He was only thirty or forty yards away.

George started towards the shooting field, but Aubrey
seized his arm. He put his mouth close to George's ear.
'You move or call out and the golem will shoot.'

The Prince appeared to be listening to one of the
researchers, who was holding up a stalk of a plant. It
looked more like a nature ramble than a hunt.

George bent and whispered into Aubrey's ear. 'You
have a plan?'

'I'll shoot the golem out of the tree.'

Aubrey was rather pleased at the surprise on George's
face.

He dug into his pocket and held up the marble of clay
he'd taken from the dead guard's uniform. 'Golem mud,'
he whispered. 'Remember my plan to improve my aim?
To make the shot desire to go in a desired direction? This
will do the trick. Now, I need some shot.'

George took a shell from his pocket and used his
penknife to slice it open. After a moment's work, Aubrey
held out his hand and George poured the shot into it.
Then he spoke the spell aloud, applying it to the lead
pellets, combining applications of the Law of Animation
and the Law of Sympathy. Done, he worked half a dozen
into the clay ball. He stowed the rest in his pocket.

George took Aubrey's gun and examined it, cleaning
some dirt off the stock, then took another shell and
loaded it as quietly as he could.

Aubrey moved rapidly, glancing upwards as he worked.
He took the clay ball containing the lead pellets and
repeated the spell over it. In seconds, he was done.

Aubrey grimaced. The clay ball was no longer inert
material. It was cold and clammy, more like flesh than
mud.

'Ready,' he whispered. 'Throw this clay ball as high as
you can. I've placed a spell on it. Because the clay came
from the golem, it will now be attracted to the same
golem – like to like. Then, when I fire the gun, the shot
will be attracted to the shot in this clay ball – like to like
again, helped by animating the shot to speed it towards
the shot inside the clay ball.'

'Which has, by then, found the golem.'

'And so the shotgun blast will follow.'

He dropped the ball into George's hand.

Aubrey took his gun. He raised it and squinted over the
sights, peering into the thick leaves overhead. He moved
to the left so he wasn't aiming directly at a huge branch.
'Now, George,' he whispered. 'Fling it high.'

George nodded grimly and threw the clay ball
upwards. It broke through the leaves and disappeared.
When it did, Aubrey raised the gun and fired straight up.

The deep, coughing report startled birds, sending them
squawking and flying from the tree. It was followed by a
different noise – a flat, deadly crack, altogether different
from the hollow roar of the shotgun. Shredded leaves
rained down, with a few twigs and dust. A thump came
from overhead, followed by a crash and another thump.

Aubrey swept out a hand. 'Step back.'

A figure plummeted onto the large branch just over
their heads. It caught for a moment, then slid onto the
ground. It landed with a heavy, almost wet, thud. Seconds
later a rifle bounced off the branch and joined it.

George loaded his gun. 'Let's see what we have here.'

There was no mistaking the motionless figure, even if
half its head was missing. It was the murderous golem
they'd seen in the vision Aubrey had conjured at the
observation post.

'Good shot,' George said.

I'm glad that worked
, Aubrey was about to say when
three men armed with service revolvers burst through
the bushes.

'Put the guns down, gentlemen,' one of them ordered.
'And do it quickly.' Another turned and whistled. Soon, a
squad of Special Services agents surrounded Aubrey and
George. Aubrey thought he recognised some of them as
loaders, gardeners and even footmen from the meal the
night before. One swore when he saw the remains of
the golem.

I don't suppose they've come to give me a medal
, Aubrey
thought. Carefully, he laid his gun at his feet and stepped
back from it.

Their commander, the stocky, officious man, appeared
from the direction of the shooting ground. The young
men straightened when they saw him and one or two
caught themselves in the middle of saluting.

Aubrey straightened at the prospect of meeting the
Special Services commander at last.

The commander walked up to the golem and screwed
up his face. He glanced at Aubrey. 'Well, what do we
have here?'

He wasn't tall, a little less than Aubrey in height. His
shoulders were broad, however, and his long black coat
strained at the seams. He wore a bowler hat and he had
a short beard. He stood easily, hands clasped behind
his back. His eyes moved quickly over the golem, the
rifle, the shredded branches overhead and then fixed on
Aubrey. 'Young Fitzwilliam, isn't it?' He didn't smile.

'Yes. And your name?'

The man ignored him and turned to the nearest agent.
'Anyone see what happened here?'

The young men tried to stand even straighter. 'No, sir.
Just heard a commotion, came to investigate.'

At that moment, Prince Albert and his party hurried
up. 'Aubrey! What's going on here?'

Aubrey spread his hands slowly. 'Your friends here seem
to think we're dangerous.'

'Is that right, Captain Tallis?' the Prince said. He didn't
raise his voice, but it had the unmistakable tone of someone
who'd been taught to give orders.

Captain Tallis stood straighter. 'We're not sure, your
highness. There seems to have been an incident here.' He
gestured at the body of the golem.

'Well,' the Prince said. 'Extraordinary.'

'Sir!' one of the young men blurted.

The golem was slumping like a jelly in hot weather,
rapidly losing all its shape. Extremities melted first, fingers
and toes disappearing. Soon it was simply a pool of
muddy clay. 'Good Lord,' the Prince said.