A startled gasp came from behind him. He turned to see Caroline lunge at the door, fling it open, drag a white coat inside and render him unconscious with a hold that Aubrey was sure hadn’t been part of Directorate training. ‘Well done,’ he breathed.
‘Not quite. The other one escaped.’ She sighed. ‘I wish they didn’t travel in pairs.’
‘I suppose I’d better make this quick, then.’
‘If you don’t mind.’
Caroline smiled at him briskly, every inch the calm, professional colleague. It made his heart ache.
With an effort, he reapplied himself to his work.
Aubrey chose the Chaldean language as best for this sort of synthesis. He ran through the elements in his head, wishing he had time to draft the spell on paper. It was going to be complex, and the implications of Ravi’s First and Second Principles of Magic resounded in his head: the more powerful the spell, the more complex the spell construction, and the more complex the spell construction, the more effort is required from the spell caster.
What he was attempting really required careful planning, a team of magicians and a corps of assistants to help with recovery. Seeing as he had no choice, he plunged in.
In a split second, he achieved the sort of focus that told him he was casting a very complicated spell indeed. The surroundings almost faded away, so intensely was he concentrating on a single ball of enhanced coal ... that one right there...
Caroline’s voice came to him softly, distantly: ‘Aubrey, I just have to slip out for a moment.’
He wanted to stop, to ask her where she was going, but cutting off the spell mid-stream would be a disaster. He’d have to find the strength and the wherewithal to start again – and he wasn’t sure if they’d have the time.
He kept going, delineating the constants for dimensionality and duration.
A shot sounded and it was immediately answered by another, louder firearm. Somewhere, metal rang. He ignored it.
Compression, affinity, cohesion. He itemised each element, couching them with the appropriate variables, taking great care with his pronunciation.
More shots. Sporadic, not volley firing. He took some small comfort in that.
The end of the spell was close. All he needed was to delimit the sequence of the spell concerning attenuation, then insert the elements for attraction and he’d be done – once he put his final signature element at the end.
When the last syllables dropped from his lips, a wave of exhaustion hit him. The muscles in his legs and back trembled, then threatened to cramp, and he had to steady himself against the floor with one hand. He closed his eyes, and snapped them open again. Falling asleep would be a very bad idea.
With as much haste as he could summon, he dragged the cover over the pit and locked it. He had enough time to totter to the racks and starting fumbling with the cylinders in an effort to make it seem as if they were the object of his attention. A harsh Holmlandish voice came from behind. ‘Take him.’
He did his best to whirl around, but he was afraid it was more of a crotchety unfolding than the panther-like movement he’d been hoping for.
Outlined in the doorway was Baron von Grolman, standing behind four armed troopers, each holding a rifle at the ready.
‘Caroline!’ he cried.
‘Aubrey!’
Caroline appeared, hurling herself at the four troopers who stood in front of the baron. This distraction gave Aubrey a chance. He pulled out his revolver in one smooth movement – and stood, wondering what to do.
Caroline was in the middle of a tangle of arms and legs. He couldn’t just blast away, and he wasn’t sure he would even if she wasn’t there.
The hesitation was enough. One of the Holmlanders saw him, shouted a warning, and then – with commendable bravery – threw himself at Aubrey.
Aubrey hurdled the brave Holmlander then aimed his revolver at the roof and squeezed off three quick shots.
The noise was deafening and all the Holmlanders threw themselves to the ground. Aubrey was stunned. His ears rang but he kept his wits. He burst through the door and found Caroline throwing a Holmlander over her hip. Baron von Grolman was crouched behind a heavy steel workbench. ‘Stop them!’ he cried.
Aubrey grabbed her hand. ‘This way!’
She didn’t argue. Aubrey sprinted off, waving his revolver at anyone who appeared. White coats quickly dived back into their workshops. Soldiers backed away, but soon they were trailing a band of Holmlanders determined to take them.
Panting, Aubrey darted left and right whenever a turning appeared, past stamping machines and presses, past metal pouring sluices and industrial ovens, past assembly lines with limbs of mechanical soldiers waiting for clay impregnation.
Clay. That was what Aubrey was looking for. He spun them around one of the golem-making machines and they were faced by the huge bin of potentialised clay George had discovered on their earlier expedition.
Aubrey gave Caroline his revolver. ‘Here,’ he panted, ‘hold them off.’
Caroline reached for him, then dropped her hand. She nodded, sharply, then quickly scaled a hanging rope of chain before taking up position, lying prone on the golem-making machine.
Immediately, she fired a shot, and Aubrey knew he had little time.
He wanted to infect the clay as well. This was a good time to be a belt and braces man, leaving nothing to chance. Contaminating the enhanced coal with his spawning spell was good, but if he could do the same with the clay, the mechanical warriors themselves could pass on the contamination, simply by being in close contact. If he could adjust his parameters appropriately, simply lying in racks such as he saw could be enough. In their headlong flight through the factory, he’d been constructing such a variant.
He dropped to his knees in front of the clay bin and launched into the spell.
The second time around, it wasn’t quite as difficult, but the spell still left him dizzy. He staggered to his feet to see a dozen Holmland soldiers charging toward him, past a fuming acid bath. Behind them, Baron von Grolman urged them forward.
He stood, eyeing the man in the vanguard – a large, blond soldier who looked terrified – looking for an opportunity to shift his weight and knock the man aside.
At that moment, Caroline Hepworth threw herself from the top of the golem maker, bowling over four of Holmlanders before rolling, coming to her feet, and dispatching another with a lightning-fast strike to his sternum.
For an instant, one of those distilled split seconds where everything stands still, she grinned at him across the mayhem she’d created. She was tall and slim in her fighting suit. He had enough time to notice how one cuff had unrolled, and that she had a scratch on the back of her hand that was bleeding.
He couldn’t imagine anyone more perfect.
He grinned back at her, then another Holmlander was on him, swinging a rifle butt. Aubrey ducked, tripped his attacker, then waded in and was hand-to-hand fighting.
His combat skills had been enhanced by his training with the Directorate, and he did his best to be as scientific as he could. To judge from the grunts and cries of pain, he had some success, but as more and more Holmlanders appeared, he knew he was doomed. No bayonets were used, for which he was grateful, but the rifle butt that caught him in the side set him back, and the troopers had no qualms about using boots, either.
In the end, it was numbers. Two dozen armed, veteran soldiers were simply too many. Aubrey was sure he had a loose tooth, and his ribs were bruised if not cracked. Caroline had left a swathe of unconscious troopers, but eventually they’d managed to throw ropes around her.
Baron von Grolman limped through the press of injured Holmlanders to where Aubrey and Caroline were each being restrained by a pair of the brawniest veterans. ‘I’m glad I found you,’ he said in good Albionish. ‘You rats have caused enough mischief, scuttling about my factory.’