Blaze of Glory (33 page)

The noise echoed in Aubrey's skull and he felt as if
were about to vomit. His knees were weak and a vast,
rushing noise was in his ears. The effort of the spell-casting
and the tense situation were combining to fray at
his physical condition. He was deteriorating, and the call
of the true death was growing stronger. 'Dangerous men,'
he whispered to George, who had put an arm under his
shoulders to support him.

'What?'

'Grief, fanaticism, stupidity and a cause. Explosive mixture.'

'Is he all right?' Caroline asked George.

'No. We have to get him home. He needs rest.'

An unmistakable sound rang out and Aubrey's head
jerked up.

'Rifle shot,' George said.

Caroline raced for the ladder and Aubrey was left with
George.

Another shot sounded.

'That will be von Stralick, I'd expect,' Aubrey whispered.
He closed his eyes and sought for strength.

'I'd say so. How do you feel?'

'Barely holding myself together. It's got worse.'

'Be strong. It'll be all right.'

Aubrey opened one eye and looked at his friend. 'You
always say that.'

'Well, I'm a very positive person.'

'Wait a moment,' Aubrey said. He bent his head. He
was trembling, drained. The tugging at his soul was sharp
and painful. It felt as if it would be dragged out of his
body at any time. He doubted he had the strength to
resist it.

Two more shots cracked.

Trapped, with a gunfight going on over our heads
, he
thought.
Father missing, the King about to be killed. I suppose
I have no time to waste.

He attempted a grin, but it wouldn't work properly. He
motioned to George.

'Yes, old man?'

'George.' Aubrey sought for words, but they all seemed
cheap and theatrical. 'Go and see what's going on
.
'

Aubrey watched his friend go to the foot of the ladder
where Caroline was crouching. Dim light was coming
from the open trapdoor.

He was left with no choice. He had to use an untested
spell. Of course, an untested spell had placed him in this
parlous situation . . .

He would not allow himself to make the same mistakes
he had then. This spell might be untested, but it would
be rigorous. It was raw and unrefined, but he had hopes
that it might derive power from this crudity.

The aim of the spell was to bind his soul to his body
again, to bring them back to their natural state of unification.
If successful, it should shield him from death's
untimely call. He could not afford, however, to sever the
golden cord that led through the portal to the other side.
To restore himself fully, he needed to learn how to recall
the cord and close death's door. This was beyond him
at the present.

The spell used elements he'd rephrased into a modern
terminology of his own invention. Some were derived
from the spell he had used for the fly that spied on his
father. Others came from his death magic research. The
whole expression was unique, and the final signature
element indicated this. Aubrey hoped he'd be proud of it.
If it worked, it would do more than stabilise his condition,
it would give him some important results towards
establishing a new language for magic.

He dropped his head and closed his eyes. He relaxed as
much as he could. He began.

He spoke barely above a whisper, hardly moving his
lips. This made crisp pronunciation even more difficult,
but he felt the syllables rolling out with precision and
clarity, with no slurring. Each element fell into place as if
it was meant to be there. The transitions between each
element were perfect, neither stretched nor condensed.

In a surprisingly short time, it was done. When he
uttered the final syllable, it was like dropping a stone into
a bucket of water. Ripples spread outwards through his
body, reaching a boundary where they rebounded and
rolled inwards again. In an instant, he felt as if his entire
being was humming, vibrating faster and faster. He
opened his eyes and everything was blurred. Inwardly, he
continued to shake more and more until he felt as if
he were going to fly apart.

Suddenly, stillness. Aubrey took a long, deep breath. He
was still there. The spell had worked. He felt strong,
stronger than he had for some time. His head was clear.
He got to his feet and joined Caroline and George at the
ladder. 'What's out there?'

'It's hard to see,' Caroline said, coming back down.
'Too many shadows. I couldn't see the sniper. Holroyd and
the others are scattered around the church, hugging the
walls, trying to guess where the shots are coming from.'

'What can we do?' George asked.

Aubrey considered. 'The right moment will present
itself if we are ready for it.' He grinned. It was the sort of
thing the Scholar Tan would say.

He glanced at the trapdoor at the exact moment a bolt
of violent purple light burst through it. He threw up an
arm and closed his eyes, but purple and green flashes
danced underneath his eyelids. His skin prickled unbearably
as a boom and a high-pitched hiss rolled down from
overhead, followed by shouts and screams.

He opened his eyes gingerly, to see Caroline and
George doing the same. George was slapping dust off his
beggar's rags.

'We have our distraction,' Aubrey said.

He bolted up the ladder and out through the trapdoor,
not giving himself time to think. He threw himself onto
his belly and tried to take in his surroundings.

Dozens of globes of light were hovering in the body
of the church – purple, red and gold. They varied in
size from marbles to footballs and were darting at the
members of the Army of New Albion. Another cluster
was swooping upwards like a flock of birds.

Magic,
Aubrey thought as his skin itched.

Ames was standing in the middle of the nave. He was
flailing his arms and screaming. 'Rats! Get them off me!
Rats!'

Holroyd was hunched against the wall, as if trying to
make himself as small as possible. His shrieks made the
hair stand up on the back of Aubrey's neck.

Nearby, another man lay. Blood was streaming from a
shoulder wound, but his curses and demands for assistance
indicated that he was another member of the Army
of New Albion, and still among the living.

Briggs was trapped in the middle of a flock of globes,
running for his life along the length of the nave. He
turned his head to see if he was being followed and ran
into one of the pillars. He toppled like a tree and didn't
move.

Aubrey winced as three rifle shots cracked flat and
hard. Ames danced on his toes. 'Rats!' he screamed. 'The
rats are everywhere!'

Caroline surged up the ladder. She threw herself next
to Aubrey and George was at their side an instant later.
Together, they scrambled into a tangle of rubbish and
rubble. It offered concealment and a wide view of the
extraordinary events unfolding in the ruins.

'Rifle?' George asked, panting.

'I saw a flash. Coming from there, I think.' Aubrey
pointed at the pile of broken masonry in the remaining
corner of the ruin, where the flock of globes was congregating.
They flew past, darting in and out like hungry
seagulls.

'Von Stralick?' Caroline said.

'I'd say so. He's after Holroyd and his friends.' Aubrey
pointed. 'But he looks trapped up there now. Not by
Holroyd's crew, though. There's no magic about them.'
He gnawed his lip. They really should withdraw while
they could. Their position was safe, but for how long?

'Then who's controlling those globes?' Caroline asked.

'I'm not sure. George, do you have the pistol Ames
dropped?'

'No, old man. I couldn't find it.' George looked pale,
but calm. 'Might've been useful.'

At that moment, a giant voice rolled into the burnt
church. 'THROW AWAY YOUR WEAPONS AND
COME OUT. YOU ARE OUTNUMBERED AND
OUTPOSITIONED. THROW AWAY YOUR
WEAPONS AND COME OUT.'

Aubrey recognised the voice. 'Craddock,' he said. 'The
shrouded figures we saw must have been the Magisterium.
Those magical globes would be their work.' Aubrey shook
his head. How did the Magisterium fit into this?

The coloured globes clustered together and began to
quiver. Slowly, they faded and vanished. A score or more
black-garbed figures entered the ruined cathedral, vaulting
over the crumbled wall, stepping through the gaps,
and scrambling over falls of stone.

Holroyd's wails grew louder and even less coherent.
Ames stared wildly around, no doubt wondering where
the rats had gone. Then he gaped at the black figures.

'SURRENDER!' came Craddock's magically inflated
voice.

Aubrey tensed. He could feel something, deep in his
bones. It grated, made his teeth ache. His neck prickled,
then began to burn. Someone was preparing to cast
potent magic, with a distinctive nature he'd felt before.
'Someone else is here,' he muttered.

George stared around the burnt church. 'Who?'

'I'm not sure,' Aubrey said, but the magic in the air
reminded him of that which had animated the assassin
golem, which had begun the chain of events that had
brought them here.

The floor started to vibrate.

Caroline looked at Aubrey, but he frowned and shook
his head. 'I have no idea.' He rubbed the bridge of his
nose. Common sense suggested that it was a good time to
slip away, while the Magisterium was busy with rounding
up the would-be regicides. But this new magical
presence was intriguing.

'This way,' he said, and crept towards what could once
have been a balcony supporting a choir stall but was now
a pile of rubble. He heard Caroline's exasperated sigh, but
when he glanced over his shoulder both she and George
were following.

The stones were solidly lodged against each other,
having been too large to cart away easily. They proved to
be easy to scale and provided good cover. Aubrey hauled
himself up until he was able to lie flat in the shadow of a
cracked slab of marble.

Holroyd and the others had been cornered by the
thirty or forty black-clad Magisterium operatives and a
few others, whom Aubrey recognised as Special Services
agents. The fight seemed to have gone out of the Army
of New Albion and they stood with heads down, shoulders
sagging. Aubrey saw Craddock standing on the side,
allowing the Special Services agents to conduct the
arrest. Craddock was scanning the burnt church, one
long finger lying along his cheek, his entire posture
suggesting he was ill at ease.

Then the night was torn apart.

At first it was a single note, then a collection of deep,
sonorous sounds, as if the largest organ in creation had all
stops pulled out and all keys depressed at once. Aubrey
clapped his hands to his ears.
Perhaps we should have left,
after all
, he thought.

Somewhere nearby, stone crashed to the ground.
George stifled an oath and stared about, wildly. Caroline's
eyes narrowed. She looked poised, taut, ready to move in
any direction.

Holroyd shrieked. He shot out his arm and pointed.
'They've come!' he screamed over the blast of noise that
swelled, peaked and then started to subside.

Aubrey stared. Ghostly forms were rising through the
stones.

Skeletal, mortified, gruesome, with remnants of ragged
clothes, they drifted upwards until free of the stone.
Aubrey could see through them as they floated, bony
fingers by their sides. Their eyes were black and empty.
Dozens, then hundreds of the spectres emerged from the
stone until the ruined cathedral was filled with a ghastly
congregation.

At the sight of the apparitions, the Magisterium operatives
stumbled back, before grouping together under
Craddock's barked instructions and presenting a united
front. Chanting rose from their formation and the
coloured globes reappeared, hurtling at the apparitions.

This seemed to spur the spectres into action. A wild,
wordless chorus went up from them, then they raised
their bony hands and surged towards the Magisterium
operatives.

'Look,' whispered Caroline. 'Holroyd and the others
have gone.'

'Where's von Stralick?' Aubrey wondered.

'If he has any sense, he'll leave while he can. And I
think we should take the opportunity too,' Caroline said.

Aubrey grinned. 'After you.'

The apparitions closed with the Magisterium operatives,
who seemed dismayed that the coloured globes had
no effect on them. They fell back and began to resort to
other measures – conjurations of half-visible creatures,
ear-splitting lightning bolts, gusts of cold and heat,
spatters of light that made Aubrey's eyes hurt.

One of the operatives was gripped by a spectre, but the
ghost was slashed away by something that swooped in a
blur of motion, a small, black, deadly shape.

George gripped Aubrey's arm. 'Did you see that?'

'No.'

'I did,' Caroline said. She stared at Aubrey. 'It was the
same as in Father's workshop.'

George's face was grim. 'The Magisterium is using
shades? Then could they be the ones responsible for your
father's death, for the golem, everything that's happened?'

Aubrey chewed his lip. Craddock's motives had never
been easy to discern. Could he be weaving a subtle web
with the aim of achieving power unparalleled in Albion?

He shook his head. Craddock did not seem ambitious
for power and status, not like so many others Aubrey had
seen. Not like the Prime Minister. Not like the Foreign
Secretary. It had to be someone else.

'We mustn't jump to conclusions,' he finally said. 'For a
start, we can't assume that the Magisterium was behind
the shade in Professor Hepworth's workshop.'

George looked frustrated, but there was no time to
argue as their attention was drawn back to the nave of
the church. The apparitions were slowly being annihilated
by the Magisterium operatives. Bolts of magic were
shredding the spectres, but they had managed to injure
three or four operatives, who were slumped with their
backs to the cracked base of the pillar.