He ran through a dozen possibilities in his mind, and none of them were good. Before he knew it he was sprinting toward the river and the bridge beyond, unsure of what he was going to do, but knowing that he didn’t want to see the train crossing the bridge until the nature of the menacing boxes was determined.
He ran, waving his arms and calling out as he burst through the vegetation on the river bank. The train was on the approaches and steaming mightily since its destination was in sight. Aubrey hallooed, jumped up and down, forgetting all concern for appearances. If it were a mistake, he was sure he could explain his way out of trouble. If it weren’t...
The train was nearly across when, impossibly, the bridge abruptly rose in the middle.
The noise reached him first, then the blast spun him around and slapped him with a giant hand – a stunning, ear-punishing roar. He was thrown backward into the dense arms of a yellow-flowering broom. He rolled to his feet in time to meet his friends coming down the bank. The trees were still shaking, leaves shredding about them in a storm. Aubrey could feel the earth trembling.
‘The bridge!’ Aubrey shouted over the ringing in his ears, trying to make his friends understand what had happened. ‘They’ve blown up the train!’
Sirens, church bells, cries of distress and the barking of dogs added to the cacophony. Within minutes, most of the remaining population of Divodorum was rushing toward what had once been the bridge over the Mosa River. Many of them poured out of the station, where hundreds had been waiting.
Appalled and sickened, Aubrey, George, Caroline and Sophie abandoned their picnic gear. They slid and scrambled their way through the woods to the outskirts of the station, where they had a clearer view of the disaster.
The railway tracks stretched from the station a few hundred yards to what had once been a sturdy and muchused bridge. Now, it was a twisted wreck. None of the piers were standing. The approaches were intact but they led to an awful, gaping nothingness.
The acrid smell of high explosives was heavy in the air, which was a haze of smoke, dust and a fine mist of water. He couldn’t help wondering how much had been used. Clearly, it had been attached to the central pier and equally clearly – because of the timing – the aim had been not just to bring down the bridge, but to take the train and its passengers down too.
A few small craft were coming down the river toward where the bridge had been – dinghies, rowing boats, a half-laden barge – but standing next to the bridge abutment Aubrey could see no sign of the train. Stunned into dizziness, he held onto the dressed stone with both hands to stop himself pitching into the river, which was churning with the violence imposed on it, so much steel, concrete, stone and iron plunging into the water.
So many lives.
They stayed on the riverbank for hours, doing their best to help with the desperate need that witnesses of tragedy so often have – but there was little they could contribute. None of the flotilla of craft that swarmed over the river brought back any survivors.
The army set up an emergency centre just outside the station, complete with field hospital, as people milled about, grey-faced and dazed, sleepwalking while fully awake. Otherwise, the general organisation was haphazard. The few remaining students from the university hovered about the site with goodwill and volunteerism, but were reduced to hand-wringing frustration amid the horror. As much as possible, Aubrey shadowed the Gallian colonel who was in charge, but who spent most of his time looking shattered. Eventually military barges joined the civilian craft. After cruising up and down for some time, they tried using heavy winches and grappling equipment, but after several neardisasters they gave up, the weight of the train wreckage obviously defeating them.
When evening fell, bodies began to be brought ashore and it was time to leave.
Heavy-hearted, speaking in monosyllables, they trudged past the station. George made a few gestures that they all understood and he veered away up through the woods to retrieve their hamper and blanket.
A figure Aubrey recognised came through the crowd by the station. ‘Saltin!’ he called, waving.
The Gallian major saw who was calling. He pushed toward them and Aubrey saw he was red-eyed, shoulders slumped. ‘Fitzwilliam. M’mselles.’
‘This is M’mselle Delroy, Saltin.’
‘Ah.’ Saltin made an effort to regain his usual charm. ‘You are the famous daughter of the esteemed Dr Auguste Delroy?’
‘I am.’
‘It is an honour.’
Aubrey thought there was much to follow up there, but he had more pressing inquiries. ‘Saltin, did you find out that information?’
‘Information?’ Saltin patted his breast pocket. ‘But of course. I was given a reply, but I have not read it. The bridge...’ He took out a piece of paper and his already grim face grew grimmer as he read. ‘I’m sorry. Your three agents were on the train. There is no hope for them.’
Twenty
Divodorum, already infested with rumours, began swarming with them. Major Saltin accompanied Aubrey and his friends on the night trek back to their base and, along the way, through streets that were either abandoned or crowded with a second wave of citizens fleeing the city, they overheard snatches of anxious conversations outside cafés and bars where the fearful remaining citizens gathered. Holmland agents were everywhere. Holmland battalions were marching into town in the morning. Holmland airships were about to drop incendiary devices on the city. The two road bridges across the Mosa and the Salia had been found to have explosives wired to them. And, most worryingly, Holmland forces had encircled the town to the south and west. Aubrey didn’t know what to believe and what to discard. Rumour was proving to be an efficient worker in the Holmland cause.
Saltin excused himself when they reached the factory. ‘I must return to the airfield.’ In the pool of light thrown by a single electric lamp outside the front doors, he shook his head. ‘Those poor young men.’
‘And their families.’ Aubrey couldn’t bear thinking of the outcry when the news arrived.
‘All Gallia will be shocked,’ Sophie said. ‘But we will be roused by it as well. Holmland may think us weak, but we will surprise them.’
Saltin straightened and nodded decisively. ‘You are right, M’mselle.’ He yawned and only covered it with an effort, then waved farewell.
Aubrey felt for the airman. He was a good man, doing his best in awful circumstances, but he had a feeling that more people like that would be needed before it was all over.
Aubrey brushed the lock with his magical awareness, enough to sense that it had remained undisturbed. Once inside, he snapped on the electric lights. He rubbed his hands together at the coolness that haunted the factory.
‘I’m hungry,’ George announced. Aubrey hadn’t realised it until his friend said it, but they’d missed their evening meal. Without waiting, George took Sophie to the kitchen.
‘Keeping busy can be a good thing,’ Caroline said. She sat at the oval table and crossed her arms, hugging herself.
‘When in distress? Agreed. And having someone understanding close by is useful, too.’
‘I wish we didn’t have to keep up appearances.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘There’s nothing I’d like better right now than to stretch out on a chaise longue. Or a pile of silk cushions.’