Late the next morning, lying on his stomach at the entrance of the cave and barely breathing, Aubrey held Dr Tremaine in the sights of the rusty Oberndorf rifle that von Stralick had stolen from a farmhouse on their cross-Holmland scramble. 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 tensed, then forced himself to relax. Von Stralick was sleeping comfortably since his fever had broken.
Aubrey waited a moment, but when all was quiet he wiped sweat from his forehead with a finger and looked to re-centre his sights.
In the long nights tending to von Stralick and thinking about how to end the war, Aubrey had come to understand, with more than a little reluctance and with a great deal of conscience-searching, that he had to put aside the misgivings he had about firearms. It was the best method he had – the only method he had – to do what was needed.
It was time to shoot Dr Tremaine with a very special projectile.
A standard bullet wasn’t going to stop the rogue sorcerer; Aubrey had seen him walk away after being shot at close range. Something extraordinary was called for and Aubrey had devoted himself to it.
Trapped in the cave and tending to the dangerously ill von Stralick, 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 he’d ever attempted, merging elements from a number of wildly different spells he’d worked with in the past. Hour after hour, in between tending 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 construct 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, Dr Tremaine would be caged in a magical prison, a prison that combined the strengths of the Beccaria Cage and the Tremaine Pearl. The prison would be unleashed, capture its target, then it would compress itself and its contents until it was the size of a marble. The entanglement spell would activate, and the prison would be reeled in, landing back with Aubrey. Dr Tremaine would be imprisoned, neutralised, and he could be brought to Albion for trial.
All Aubrey had to do was to squeeze the trigger. One shot and he could go home and restore his name, knowing the Holmland war effort would collapse without Dr Tremaine’s guiding hand. It would all be over.
Ignoring second thoughts, doubts and qualms, he settled himself in his prone position. He 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.