Aubrey rubbed his aching head, realised that his beret had gone missing again, found it in a tangle of nearby metal and lodged it on his head while he stepped gingerly across the melted and charred remains that had been, briefly, a playground for Dr Tremaine’s malign magic. When he reached the western parapet, he saw that the skyfleet was sailing away and taking the storm with it. Lightning jabbed down at the earth, making it look as if the ships were walking on giant, electrical legs, stalking across countryside with impunity. A telegraph pole exploded in a shower of sparks, then another, before the skyfleet crossed a ridge and Aubrey lost sight of its sparky spideriness.
A cry made him whirl to find Caroline joining him on the roof. ‘Aubrey!’
While Aubrey had the highest estimation of Caroline’s abilities, he nevertheless was relieved to see that she was unharmed. He veritably skipped across the roof, vaulting over a gaping skylight and dancing around a metal pole that jutted at an angle right through a dislodged downpipe.
She took his outstretched hand. A host of expressions flitted across her dear face before she settled on careful professionalism. ‘Bertie is safe. The telegraph room exploded and is burnt out, but that’s the only real damage.’
‘You’re unhurt?’
She tilted her head, but didn’t let go of his hand. ‘One must put first things first, Aubrey.’
‘I did.’
The service door banged back. George and Sophie emerged. ‘A right mess,’ George said after surveying the damage. ‘They won’t be putting this back together in a hurry.’
Click, click, click. Aubrey had it. He ran for the stairs. ‘Exactly, which means we need to be on our way.’
Banging down the stairs, Aubrey told Caroline what he’d seen on the roof – and he shared what Professor Mansfield had said with George and Sophie. ‘We need to let the Directorate know,’ he said over his shoulder, ‘but it looks as if… Ah! General Apsley!’
At the bottom of the stairs, the general was standing like a rock in the middle of a stream. While others rushed about, carrying boxes and valuables, the general had his hands behind his back, taking account of proceedings with some approval. ‘Fitzwilliam! Very good! This way!’
He broached the flood and ushered them into a drawing room to one side of the main entrance. The room was mostly gilt, mirrors and vases, a tiny showpiece designed to impress. It looked over the hospital area, which was, to Aubrey’s relief, untouched apart from some flailing canvas and a few minor collapses.
Bertie stood as they entered. ‘Relief seems to be the order of the day,’ he said. ‘I’m glad to see you, Aubrey.’
‘Bertie. Sir. Your majesty.’
A quick smile. ‘Enough of that. The general was eager to find you after I told him you’d know what just hit us.’
Aubrey addressed himself to the general. ‘It was Dr Tremaine, sir, and I’ve just learned he’s on his way to Trinovant. I don’t think I need to tell you that he needs to be stopped.’
‘Tremaine, eh? That was his magic?’
‘It was. I’ve seen his skyfleet magic before, and the electrical attack was undoubtedly his.’
‘Trinovant?’ General Aspley said. ‘Whatever for? I’d been led to believe that he was determined to organise a battle here, in Gallia.’
Aubrey screwed up his face in frustration. ‘He was, but he’s abandoned that plan. Whatever he has in mind now is unlikely to be less dangerous.’
‘So he wasn’t after our new King?’
‘I doubt it. If he had been, we wouldn’t be standing around and chatting like this.’ Aubrey felt some more pieces clicking into place. ‘He’s stopped us letting the Directorate know that he’s coming.’
‘All the communication equipment is unsalvageable,’ Caroline said. ‘It would take weeks to repair the damage.’
Aubrey jabbed a finger into the air, at nothing in particular. ‘As the skyfleet headed west, it was destroying the telegraph lines to make sure. He knew Professor Mansfield had escaped.’
‘He’s on the way to Trinovant?’ Bertie’s face was grave. ‘We must get word to them.’
Caroline seized Aubrey’s arm. ‘And so we shall.’
63
The ornithopter stood next to what had once been stables but was now being used as a mechanical workshop. The Gannet gleamed in the low light of the receding storm. Its wings were folded back in the resting position, reaching almost back to the massive extra fuel tanks that were responsible for its range.
In the wake of the storm, the chateau complex was subdued. The damage was remarkably minor, with flying debris having caused most of the destruction. Aubrey was pleased to see the black dog strutting about as if it had been solely responsible for seeing off the invaders.
Their departure wasn’t so precipitous that some preparations hadn’t been undertaken. General Apsley wasn’t prepared to rely on a single ornithopter to get the news to Albion, so he had organised the dispatching of motorcycle riders to relay the news to the Directorate and the Prime Minister.
In the meantime, while the ornithopter was readied, Aubrey found a satchel of maps to which he added the notes he’d been accumulating. He also scrambled together some magical items he hoped would be useful. George and Sophie busied themselves in readying for their flight as Caroline was briefed on the new flying machine.
George hefted his rucksack. ‘You can fly this, Caroline?’
Her eyes were bright. ‘Oh yes, I’m sure I can.’
Sophie peered through goggles. ‘I have never flown in an ornithopter before.’
‘You’re in for an experience.’ George flung open the door and together they leaped into the back seat, where, to Aubrey’s mind, they spent an inordinate amount of time becoming untangled.
Caroline vaulted into the pilot’s seat, slammed the door and tied back her hair while she studied the controls. They looked familiar enough to Aubrey, but he noticed that the wing tilt indicator and oil pressure gauge had swapped position. He swallowed and peered at the dials, switches and knobs. What else was different?
‘We’re fully fuelled,’ he announced, having found the appropriate indicator.
‘Excellent,’ Caroline murmured. Without taking her eyes from the panel in front of her, she snapped her seatbelt around her waist. Aubrey didn’t have to be told; he quickly did the same and he heard two similar metallic catches from behind him.
Aubrey could fly an ornithopter, and fly it very well if his instructors could be believed. He knew, however, that he wasn’t a patch on Caroline. He enjoyed the flying experience; she loved it, and her love translated into a sublime ability to pilot the notoriously cranky machine as easily as if it were a kite.
She leaned forward, and a tiny tip of her tongue protruded from a corner of her mouth. She paused for an instant, then flipped a switch. The engine coughed twice, then decided it was well enough to lurch into action. It roared and the noise of the storm was drowned out. Caroline’s hands ran across the panel, engaging and testing components of the fiendishly complicated machine she was about to shepherd into the sky. Tiny lights winked on and off, and Aubrey felt flares of magic awaken from the various enhanced aspects of the ornithopter.
Caroline grasped the controls and used a thumb to open the switch on the right-hand panel. Instantly, the earth was left behind.
George cheered, but the launch was always Aubrey’s least favourite part of any ornithopter flight. In any take-off, it felt as if his stomach were left well behind on the ground and then had to spend some time clawing its way back to reunite itself with the rest of his body. He swallowed to equalise the pressure in his ears. The thrashing of the great metal wings managed the impressive task of drowning out the roar of the engine, where all the pistons were labouring with the effort of hurling the bulk of the machine skywards.
The ornithopter spiralled, seeking its best flying altitude. Aubrey consulted a map.