Moment of Truth (44 page)

Each of the savants who arrived – some in the middle of the night – appeared later in the walled garden, guarded and wearing the same cage, confirming their identity as magicians, even the ones who Aubrey didn't know by sight. Over the next weeks, they were taken on this exercise time for an hour every second day, but otherwise they were hidden away in the clutch of outbuildings to the east of the sprawling two-storey hunting lodge.

Over the month of Aubrey's enforced vigil, Dr Tremaine had come and gone, sometimes several times in one day, mostly driving himself in a bright red, open-topped roadster. Aubrey had come to recognise the scream of the motor as it hurtled along the road in a way no other driver dared. When Dr Tremaine was present, prominent Holmlanders often visited. As well as the Chancellor, all of the Army High Command and the Navy Board were present two nights ago, only leaving well after midnight. Two hours later, Dr Tremaine had leaped into his roadster and shot down the road after them.

At times, Aubrey wondered if the man slept at all.

If Aubrey didn't understand what was happening in the retreat, he at least knew something – that Dr Tremaine used the formidable estate as a base and a site for magical operations of an as-yet-unspecified nature. The tell-tale wafts of magic that prickled Aubrey's magical senses were enough to let him know that.

Aubrey lifted von Stralick's head and held the canteen to his lips. Water dribbled out of his mouth, but Aubrey thought he swallowed a little. He sighed at the prospect of the water wasted, knowing he'd have to gather more, spending hours holding the canteen to the rock crevices to catch the remnants of the frequent rain that swept across the heights. When he was so close to finalising the construction of his spells, he hated losing time like that.

The weather was trying. In this northern part of Holmland, summer had hurried off the stage and autumn had well and truly taken its place. The nights had become decidedly chilly, the rain more frequent, the days noticeably shorter. None of this helped von Stralick's condition.

Aubrey studied von Stralick's face. The spy's teeth were bared as he shivered, and Aubrey decided he had no choice but to risk a gentle heat spell.

He'd been avoiding magic. With Dr Tremaine so close, he didn't want to do anything to alert the rogue sorcerer to their presence, not before he was ready to implement the spells he'd spent so much time over. With von Stralick this ill, however, it seemed as if he had little choice.

He composed himself and reworked a basic Thermal Magic spell, adjusting the parameters for location and dimension to encompass von Stralick's wasted frame. Aubrey tugged his filthy jacket around him as he took care with the intensity variable, too, to provide a gentle warmth rather than a roasting heat.

Von Stralick's shivering faded as the spell began to work. Aubrey nodded and ran a hand through his hair – hair that had long forgotten its military cut and was starting to resemble a shaggy pelt. He was remotely glad that the only human being in close proximity was insensible, for he was sure he smelled dreadful. If he looked anything like von Stralick's red-eyed, grimy, dishevelled appearance, he was ready to apply for a position as understudy to the Wild Man of Borneo.

Aubrey monitored the heat spell, and was pleased. Von Stralick had settled. His lips were still, his breathing steady. Aubrey chewed his lip for a moment, then touched the Holmlander's forehead. It was much cooler, and he allowed himself to hope that some sort of crisis had passed, and that he was able to cast magic without detection.

He picked up his spellcraft notebook. His pencil was worn to a stub, but the break from his magic preparation had been useful. He saw now that it was nearly finished.

Late the next morning, barely breathing, Aubrey Fitzwilliam held Dr Tremaine in the sights of the Oberndorf rifle. The rogue sorcerer was perfectly positioned, standing on the road outside the gates of his cliff-top retreat. Aubrey swallowed, acutely conscious that all his spellwork and preparation had led to this: he had one chance to remove Dr Tremaine and put an end to his warmongering. A careful, steady squeeze of the trigger and it would all be over.

A sound came from behind him. Aubrey was lying on his stomach at the entrance of the cave. The noise had to be von Stralick, sleeping much more comfortably now.

Aubrey waited a moment, but when no more noise came to him, he wiped sweat from his forehead with a finger and looked to re-centre his sights. It was time to shoot Dr Tremaine with a very special projectile.

Aubrey knew that a standard bullet wasn't going to stop Dr Tremaine; Aubrey had seen him walk away after being shot at close range. Something extraordinary was called for.

Aubrey had brought together all his thinking about magic, all of the reading, experimenting and theorising, to construct the complex array of spells which had replaced the bullet in the sole cartridge they had. This magic was some of the most intricate that Aubrey had ever attempted, bringing together elements from a number of wildly different spells Aubrey had worked with in the past. Hour after hour, in between tending a suffering von Stralick, he'd taken apart compression spells, intensification spells, amplification spells, spells that juggled aspects of Familiarity, Entanglement, Attraction, combining them and recombining them, splicing, reworking until he was able to make a spell-ridden object smaller than his fingernail, but as deadly as anything he'd ever created.

Much of the spell was based on his study of the transformed Beccaria Cage that was now armouring his body and soul against premature separation. He'd also incorporated characteristics of the ensorcelled pearl that had been both a refuge and prison for Dr Tremaine's sister, Sylvia. The result was a highly compressed binding spell, overlaid with homing spells to counter any misalignment in the old Oberndorf – or in Aubrey's aiming.

When the spell struck its target, if all of Aubrey's hopes were true, Dr Tremaine would be caged in a magical prison, a prison that combined the strengths of the Beccaria Cage and the Tremaine Pearl. Once the projectile struck, the prison would be unleashed, then it would compress itself and its contents until it was the size of a marble. The reverse entanglement spell would activate, and the prison would be reeled in, landing back with Aubrey. Dr Tremaine would be imprisoned, neutralised, and Aubrey could return him to Albion for trial.

All Aubrey had to do was to squeeze the trigger. One shot, and he could go home, could restore his name, knowing the Holmland war effort would collapse without Dr Tremaine's guiding hand.

Ignoring second thoughts, doubts and qualms, he settled himself in his prone position and regripped the rifle, making sure it was stable on the flat rock he was using as a firing platform. He found Dr Tremaine with the sighting post and adjusted until it was aligned with the notch. He took a breath, let it out slowly, then drew in another and held it.

The war was about to end.