'What now?' George shouted.
Aubrey narrowed his eyes. He could still do something to help. 'The cockpit. The survivor.'
He scanned overhead and saw the remnants of the dirigible wallowing out of the clouds, shuddering like a great whale in its death spasms. The remaining motor units were whining desperately, but the dirigible had begun its final plunge.
Aubrey realised his jaw was aching from the tension. George grunted, then swore as oil sprayed across the windscreen.
That's all I need, Aubrey thought numbly. He couldn't see a thing through the streaks and smears of black muck.
Doing his best to stay calm, he ran through the commonplace spells he'd memorised since he'd begun learning magic. He seized on one he'd used for practical jokes, an application of the Law of Attraction. The elements were straightforward, the duration easy to handle. Usually the spell was used to make things hard to separate – to humorous effect – but this time Aubrey inverted the spell. The oil fell away from the windscreen as if it couldn't bear to be near the glass.
The ornithopter bucked, then dropped in the turbulent air caused by the burning dirigible. The flames had almost engulfed the entire airship and the heat beat on Aubrey's exposed skin. The ornithopter shuddered, then slipped sideways. He caught it with an upward wing beat, but the strain was causing the metal laminates to shred and peel. There was no natural way to bring the ornithopter close enough to perform a mid-air rescue.
It'll have to be magic, then.
George pointed. The tail of the airship had tipped upwards, like the stern of a sinking ship. A figure was in the cockpit, pressed up against the glass.
Aubrey flinched as violet-white light flashed through the cabin. Hard on its heels was an immense crack that made the ornithopter vibrate like a gong. Dazzled, with coloured specks dancing in front of his eyes, Aubrey groaned. As if they didn't have enough to contend with, the storm was closing in. The ornithopter quivered, as if it were a real bird caught in a storm.
Feverishly, Aubrey's mind seized on the comparison. The Law of Similarities came to him, the well-established components blazing across his mind, clear and sharp.
The ornithopter was like a bird. With an effort, and the properly constructed spell, he could make it more so.
He chanted the spell, dropping the values into the unfolding formula in the way that fitted best. He announced each element as crisply as he could while trying to hold the bucking craft steady.
'Hold on!' he barked to George. The interior of the ornithopter began to glow, but it was different from the dirigible's flaming red and the harsh glare of the lightning.
Streaked with green and yellow, every surface began to shimmer, a spiky phosphorescence that reeked of magic. Aubrey's magical senses jangled in response.
Another boom and the ornithopter was again rocked by thunder. Aubrey wrestled controls that were growing increasingly sluggish and dragged the craft around the nose of the sinking dirigible.
George let out an oath as the substance of the ornithopter rippled. Wide-eyed, he clutched at the control panel, seeking something to hold onto, then jerked back as it flowed underneath his fingers. His face was rigid with terror as the substance of the machine shifted shape, threatening to dissolve and pitch them both into the ferocity of the storm.
Thunder bellowed, a burst of heat erupted from the dirigible and then they were no longer in the cabin of an ornithopter. Wind screamed and plucked at them as they lay flat on the back of a giant metal bird.
'Hold on!' Aubrey shouted – unnecessarily – and scrabbled for a handhold.
Aubrey was excited. The spell had worked. The ornithopter had been encouraged to assert its similarity to a real bird, to become more than a machine. Exposed to the elements, a long neck thrust out in front of them while a fan-like tail spread behind. Great brass wings feathered in the shifting turbulence, keeping them tracking alongside the stricken dirigible. Aubrey could see that the glass of the windscreen had become the glinting eyes of the creature, while the hydraulic pipes and electrical wiring conduits had merged into the body of the bird, making tendons and muscles.
Aubrey looked down and gulped. The ground was a long way away. He narrowed his eyes against the whipping wind, the heat of the flames and the smoke. His fingers dug into the metal feathers and he was thankful the bird's back was broad.
George stared at him and down at the metal bird, then grinned and gave a nod of approval. 'Don't worry, I'm not letting go!'
The metal bird clashed its way toward the observation cockpit. Aubrey urged it on.
The dirigible had finally given up the struggle. Huge rents ran across the metal skin, exposing the interior fabric and aluminium skeleton. A gasbag ripped free and, intact, shot up through the clouds. Deprived of this lift, the dirigible sank even more swiftly.
The metal bird slid sideways, then banked right in a turn that had both Aubrey and George scrabbling to stop themselves sliding off its back. Just when Aubrey had jammed his left foot against what he suspected had once been a fuel line, the metal bird plummeted and his stomach tried to find its way out of his ears.
As the metal bird dived, it screeched, a wild clanging cry that joined the tumult of the thunderstorm and the burning dirigible.
Aubrey hung on, desperately, fingers whitening with effort. Suddenly the metal bird lunged and struck the observation cockpit with its talons. Aubrey cried out as the glass shattered and the crewman fell, flailing, through the air.
Aubrey hammered at the bird's metal skin, shouting wordless oaths of anger and disbelief. What had he done? Created a monster and loosed it on the world?
The metal bird folded its wings and dived after the falling Gallian, and Aubrey was forced to cling with both hands. He squinted and tried to think of a spell to stop the creature's madness.
Then Aubrey's grip was tested again. With a crack like a giant's whip, the bird thrust out its wings and stopped its dreadful descent. The jolt threw him aside and, for a desperate moment, he had nothing to hold onto. He slid, his back scraping on bolts and ridges, until his head hung over the bird's flank. Far below, the dark and hard ground beckoned. Above was the blazing immensity of the dirigible. Of course, there now also existed the possibility of being pecked to death by a rampaging metal avian.
Another jolt sent him head first over the bird's flank, and he was only prevented from tumbling into the empty air when he grabbed a feathered ridge. While his heart raced, the world wheeled around below, a great, flat dish waiting to catch him.
Wind ripped at his clothes and made his eyes water. Desperately trying to think of a way out of his predica- ment, he saw the great talons of the metal bird a few feet below him. They were clutching the Gallian crewman. His uniform was scorched, his eyes were closed. Aubrey couldn't tell if he was breathing or not.
His collar jerked and, for an awful instant, he thought he was about to fall. He looked up to see George grimacing and holding onto his jacket. With George's help, Aubrey managed to scramble up until he was again flat on the back of the bird, panting with exertion and exhilaration at his rescue. His fingers ached from clinging to his handholds, but he was alive!