Heart of Gold (39 page)

G
ABRIEL SAT ON A WOODEN CHAIR, HUNCHED OVER, ELBOWS
on his knees. His cold eyes examined them.

They were in an office in one enclosed corner of the
vast space of the hangar. Through the slatted blinds on
the windows, Aubrey could make out the beginnings of a
new dirigible where the previous one had been destroyed.

The furniture in the office seemed as if it was intended
to send the message that this was a no-nonsense facility.
The desk, the shelves, the cabinets were all made of grey
metal. The only wooden item of furniture was Gabriel's
chair.

Aubrey spent some time kicking himself for dragging
his friends into danger like this, then quickly moved onto
trying to think of a way out. He could kick himself some
more later – if they managed to escape.

Aubrey was aware of the two gunmen standing behind
their chairs, and he was sure they weren't there for moral
support. He opened his mouth and Gabriel pointed a
finger, interrupting him. 'If you begin a spell,' he said in
Albionish, 'Leon will hit you very hard. Then he will gag
you with a filthy cloth.'

'No,' Aubrey said and he mentally tore up his first plan,
'no magic. I just want to know why we've suddenly
become enemies. We've proved that we're friends to
Marchmaine.'

'And friends to Holmland. You've been seen with von
Stralick.'

'The diplomat?'

'Do not play the fool with me. We all know he is a spy.'

'So? Lutetia is always full of spies.'

'The situation has changed.'

'The political situation?'

'It is on a slippery slope now. No-one can stop the
government from falling.' He stood. 'Guard them,' he said
to his two men.

'Wait,' Aubrey said in Gallian. He gestured at the men
behind him. 'Have you told them what's going on? I
think they deserve to know that they're going to be
turned into wild beasts.'

One of the men behind him shifted and spoke, his
voice deep but uncertain. 'Gabriel?'

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. 'Do not listen to him,
Leon,' he said in Gallian. 'He knows nothing.'

Aubrey continued in Gallian, giving the guards every
opportunity to hear. 'How many men have been transformed
so far? Ten? More? I'd think you'd be running
out of volunteers by now, which would mean you're not
telling the poor souls what they're in for.'

Aubrey felt it then – a ponderous magical pulse. He
flinched at the raw power, and even the brick dust in his
pocket, inert though it had become, trembled. The others
in the small room also seemed to feel something for they
all blinked and looked around uncertainly.

An eerie silence fell in the hangar outside. To Aubrey
it was like those odd moments in a crowded room
where, inexplicably, everyone stops talking at once.

Then an ear-splitting roar split the silence apart.

Gabriel made for the door. 'Do not let them escape!'
he barked over his shoulder.

The roaring was huge and bestial, and came from the
road outside the hangar. As it grew, it seemed to spawn a
chorus of terrified shouts. Then the scream of tearing
sheetmetal added to the pandemonium. Running figures
flitted past the slatted blinds.

For the guards' benefit, Aubrey continued to speak in
Gallian, raising his voice over the noise. 'It sounds as if
they've lost another guard,' he said to Caroline.

She answered in the same language, raising an eyebrow
to show she understood. 'It's awful what's happened to
them. I don't know how their commanders could do it.'

George knew that something was afoot. He nodded
vigorously, doing his best to help.

The guard behind Aubrey clipped him with a meaty
hand. 'Tell us what is happening.'

Aubrey rubbed the back of his head. 'You haven't been
told? That is very poor.'

Glass shattered nearby and the ground shook, but the
corrugated iron outer wall held solid. Aubrey hoped that
the guards' imagination would create something much
worse than the reality – whatever that was.

'I will see what is happening,' one of the guards said.

'Don't, Leon. We must wait for Gabriel.'

The conversation between the two guards frustrated
Aubrey. He couldn't turn around to see their faces, to
judge their mood. Their voices were edgy and uncertain,
though, and he hoped to be able to turn that to his
advantage.

Leon apparently wasn't impressed by his comrade's
point of view. 'I'm tired of Gabriel. He's grown too sure
of himself. I wonder about his commitment to
Marchmaine.'

'But Gabriel is the leader of the Sons of Victor! How
can you doubt his loyalty?'

Aubrey decided that Leon was rather more cynical
than his comrade. Silently, he cheered him on.

'Where did Gabriel come from?' Leon asked. 'He
claims he was born and raised in Chrétien, but I never
knew him and I spent my life there before joining the
movement.'

Through the glass, Aubrey could see that panic was rife
in the hangar. Men armed with rifles were running
toward the angry roaring. A lorry raced through an open
door, almost colliding with four men who were carrying
a large girder.
As good a time as any
, Aubrey thought. He
caught Caroline and George's attention. He nodded very,
very slightly and eased himself around in his chair, ready
to leap at the arguing guards.

One guard – tall, beefy, perfect for the job – shifted
and pointed his revolver directly at Aubrey. A distant part
of his brain found it interesting to note that it was a
Holmland military pistol, an Albers Special. He'd heard it
was a very efficient firearm and, staring right into the
huge barrel, he was willing to accept this without any
further proof.

'Do not do anything,' Leon said in thickly accented
Albionish.

'You speak Albionish!' George said.

Leon sneered. 'Do not think I am stupid, just because
I am a guard.'

While Aubrey would normally have enjoyed pursuing
the discussion of stereotypes and assumptions, it was at
that moment that gunfire sounded from outside the
hangar. Immediately the roaring on the other side of
the corrugated iron rose to a furious bellowing. The
ground shook, then, with a deafening crash, the wall
bulged as something huge slammed into it. The metal
table and cabinet against the wall were hurled across
the room.

Aubrey dived to one side and felt the metal table
whistle past his head. He hit the floor to see that Leon
and the other guard weren't so lucky. Standing as they
were, the table struck them squarely, followed by the
cabinet.

Caroline dragged him to his feet. 'Are they all right?'
he asked.

George quickly inspected them. 'They're breathing.
Some blood, not much.'

'What's happening?' Caroline asked, but Aubrey didn't
have to answer. The wall boomed again, but this time it
gave way, screeching and splitting open under the impact.
A clawed foot the size of a cow thrust into the office. It
was scaled and a dull, muddy green-brown. Aubrey
clapped his hands over his ears as they were assaulted by
more frenzied bellowing that rocked the whole office.
The foot jerked, stuck in the split metal, shaking the
entire wall as if it were made of paper. Then it withdrew,
nearly dragging the side of the building with it.

Aubrey, George and Caroline stood staring through
the gap and the mountainous shape that was moving
away from them. Twenty feet or more tall, it stalked on
two tree-trunk legs, swinging a massive tail like a club.
Gunfire only seemed to annoy it. It moved like an
avalanche toward its attackers, pursuing men who wisely
decided that fleeing was the best course of action.

Stunned, Aubrey was glad to see that the creature
wasn't interested in them. The
size
of the monster!

'Another ancient Lutetian animal?' Caroline said. 'A
dinosaur?'

He let out a long breath he hadn't realised he'd been
holding. A creature from the very dawn of time, a king of
beasts, to be sure. To think that it had once been a man.
'It means that the Heart of Gold must be near.'

'In the hands of another poor unfortunate by now,'
George said. He picked his way over scattered papers
until he could peer out of the hole in the wall. 'If we
want to leave, this would be a good time.'

George stepped through. Aubrey followed Caroline.
His jacket snagged on a splinter of metal and it tore when
he tugged it away. His heart was still racing, and this time
he thought it had good reason.

Outside, he paused. The strong, magical beat that
signalled that the Heart of Gold was close rolled over
him. Without realising it, he swayed. 'Over there.' He
pointed across the road to a workshop. The large double
doors were rolled back and Aubrey could see three
lorries parked inside.

The dinosaur was stalking with murderous intent in
the direction of the airfield. Panicked masses of men were
streaming across the tarmac, and the sounds of small arms
fire was continuous. The sole dirigible had been floating
close to the ground, having been fuelled and provisioned
ready to take the Heart of Gold to Marchmaine, Aubrey
surmised. Now, it was endeavouring to pull away, despite
its lines still being anchored. In the middle of the confusion,
enough discipline remained that the lines were
being systematically loosed, while the engines of the
airship were firing up to assist its ascent.

Aubrey readied himself to lead the way and dash across
the road to the workshop, but before he could take a step,
a titanic blast erupted in the hangar behind him. Aubrey
was flung to the ground. He lay there, for a moment, his
ears ringing, and watched as the air was replaced with a
cloud of dust and smoke. George and Caroline had been
by his side, but he couldn't see them anywhere. He rolled
onto one elbow and desperately tried to get up.

George appeared, coughing and shaking his head,
waving both arms so it appeared as if he were swimming
through the smoke. He helped Aubrey to his feet. 'Things
are getting well out of hand here,' he managed to say over
the roar of a massive blaze taking hold in the hangar.
'A good time to be careful.' A dull thud and a further,
smaller explosion made them both duck, but apart from
a shrill whistling, nothing came their way.

Caroline emerged from the smoke and Aubrey's rising
panic settled. 'Von Stralick's here.'

'What?' Aubrey blinked through the drifts of oily smoke.

'Von Stralick. I just saw him at the head of a band of
soldiers, fleeing the hangar and heading toward the
airfield.'

'Ah. That'd be who set off the explosion, then.' Aubrey
couldn't imagine the Marchmainers blowing up their
own facility. Unless they did it by accident.

They hurried across the road and into the workshop.
Aubrey's nerves jangled with every step, as he expected
to be confronted either by angry Marchmainers or the
Holmlanders who'd blown up the hangar. Neither was a
desirable encounter.

Aubrey almost ran into the wall of the workshop, so
thick was the smoke. With George and Caroline close, he
found the door. Another magic pulse struck him, and he
had to steady himself against its power.
It's definitely coming
from in there
, he thought, and gestured to his friends. He
pushed the door back on its rollers and, heart racing,
he stepped inside.

A let-down. It was a motor pool or repair shop, chains
hanging from rafters, racks of spare parts covering the
walls. Beyond the three lorries was another, jacked up
and with its engine cover open.

Aubrey's gaze slid over these mundane details and
locked on the rear wall of the workshop. It was unlike the
plywood-lined walls on the other sides. It was a heavy,
riveted steel barrier that wouldn't have been out of place
on a battleship. The magical waves were rolling straight
through it. 'Strongroom,' Aubrey said.

'A strongroom's not much use with an open door,'
Caroline noted.

Aubrey nodded. 'George, can you make sure no-one
comes in from outside?'

'Will do, old man.'

'Caroline –'

'I'm coming with you.'

'You're coming with me.' Aubrey saw by the set of her
face that arguing would be useless. 'All right. But stay
behind me and be ready to run.'

'You be ready to run, too.'

Aubrey jumped. A groan had come through the open
door of the strongroom.

'Someone's in there,' Caroline said.

He nodded, not wanting to speak with a throat was
suddenly dry. He licked his lips, then inched through the
doorway.

'Saltin!'

The Gallian airman was sitting on a wooden stool in a
windowless room lined with metal bars. His face was
sweating and contorted. Another groan burst through his
gritted teeth and his eyes rolled back in his head. Magic
was dense in the air, strong enough to make Aubrey
dizzy.

With bone-white hands, Saltin clutched the Heart of
Gold in his lap.

Saltin was suffering. Aubrey reached out a hand, but
then let it fall. It was clear that the Marchmaine plight
had become desperate. Perhaps Gabriel had run out of
volunteers and dupes. Saltin, the poor fool, had stepped
forward and now here he was, tormented as the artefact
wreaked its power on him.

'Saltin!' he shouted but the airman didn't respond. His
head sagged, then lolled backward, the whites of his eyes
showing.

Aubrey drew back and bumped into Caroline. Her
horrified gaze was on the Gallian airman as his features
began to writhe like warmed clay, twisting in the grip of
the ancient magic. He gave a wretched cry, the whimper
of an animal caught in a trap.

'Wait by the door,' Aubrey said to Caroline. Wideeyed,
she nodded.

Aubrey took a deep breath. It had come to this. All
the actions, events and happenings of the last two
weeks had led to this – Monsieur Caron and his letters,
the Marchmaine independence movement, Bertie's
genealogy, Dr Romellier, the desires, wants and wishes
of so many people had been tumbled together, caught
up in the flood. A thousand futures radiated out
from this point, each one dependent on what Aubrey
did next.