He put his mouth close to George's ear. 'The Gallian! The bird has him! He's safe!'
'Like we are?' George shouted. Aubrey grinned.
Blinding white light peeled the sky apart and the metal bird was flung across the heavens. Its wings flapped in wild, jerky sweeps. Aubrey, blinked, dazzled and deafened, alarmed at the smell of hot metal and ozone. Through black spots that wandered in his vision, he looked over his shoulder to see that half the bird's tail was missing – melted, with black charred streaks.
It had been struck by lightning.
The creature almost tumbled, then righted itself and began a descent that was a combination of vertigo-inducing drops and a controlled tight spiral. Aubrey peered over the side. The flames of the still-descending dirigible reflected in the ponds of the sewage treatment works bordering the airfield.
Their descent continued to slow. Aubrey cheered on the plucky bird, but the rasping tickle that signalled the presence of magic made him alert. The feathers beneath his fingers rippled and flowed, rearranging themselves, shifting shape. The creature heaved, plunging a little, then Aubrey was in the battered cabin of the ornithopter again. The windscreen was cracked and the smell of scorched metal was thick in the enclosed space.
Aubrey had time to see that George was in the seat next to him and that the unconscious Gallian airman was in the seat behind. George was hastily strapping on his seat belt and Aubrey managed to do the same before the ornithopter splashed into the sewage works.
Aubrey was thrown forward and hit his head on the steering column. He jerked back, blinking, as water cascaded on the cabin roof. He gasped for air and was soon rewarded by the rich fragrance of the settling ponds. Through the window he saw, in the distance, the tattered remains of the dirigible settling with relative dignity into the swampy morass. A cloud of steam and smoke rose to the heavens.
A dense, ponderous feeling settled on Aubrey's shoulders, making them sag. It took him a moment to be able to identify it as relief. He spent a moment wondering about the flawed spell, and how he could have made the ornithopter's change last longer, but he gave up, pleased that such a quickly cobbled-together effort had worked at all.
George coughed and cleared his throat. 'Good landing.'
'What?'
'WingCo Jeffries said any landing you walk away from is a good landing.' George peered out of the window. 'Or in our case, swim away from.'
'Oh.'
The ornithopter wobbled, slipped, paused and then began to sink.
Aubrey shrugged. Just when things couldn't get any worse, they did. He glanced over his shoulder to see that the Gallian was still unconscious, but breathing. He was sprawled across the back seats like a rag doll.
Aubrey rubbed his forehead. He felt weary to the bone. The magical exertion had drained him and he knew he'd pay for it later. 'You know, George, I was just wondering why you jumped into the ornithopter with me. What were you going to do? You don't know the first thing about flying.'
'Just habit, old man. You go off on a hare-brained expedition, I tag along to try to stop you from killing yourself. Or, at least, to minimise the damage to innocent bystanders. It's a hobby, I suppose.'
'Couldn't you have taken up stamp collecting?'
'Allergic to glue, old man. You know that.'
Aubrey was silent for a time and watched the discoloured water rise up the windows. Then the ornithopter bumped and stopped sinking. Nearby, frogs started croaking.
'George?'
'Mm?'
'You remember that holiday I said we should take after the examinations?'
'Of course.'
'I think now could be a good time to take it.'