Heart of Gold by Michael Pryor

surface. He wiped water from his eyes and saw
that the battle was now raging along the bridge and up
and down the embankment. He couldn't see George
or Caroline.
    Aubrey's clothes weighed him down and he swallowed
oily water. His boots filled and felt like lead weights. He
gasped, heart pounding, fearing he'd be dragged to the
bottom and drowned, and he had a fleeting moment of
embarrassment at the prospect of such an undignified
end. The newspapers would love it , he thought.
    Soon, however, he realised that he could keep afloat as
long as he churned and thrashed like a whirligig. He felt
like an idiot, trying to keep himself upright, but this
prompted an idea. Sound consisted of waves, and he'd
had some experience applying the Law of Amplification
to sounds. Using some of the same principles, could he
cast a spell that would work on waves in water?
    He swept his arm. A puny swell spread toward the
riverbank. Aubrey chanted the amplification spell,
looking to adjust the variables for intensity and distance
to account for the different medium through which the
waves would travel. Bobbing in the water, he coughed
the spell out, syllable by syllable.
    The wave grew. Slowly at first, it was nearly a foot high
when it reached the embankment. It smacked against the
stone blocks, then rolled back on itself, mounting as it came.
It picked Aubrey up like a cork, raising him a full yard,
then it was past and making its way toward the far bank.
    Aubrey wallowed around, trying to trace its progress.
In the darkness, lights from the far bank stretched out
toward him, long fingers rippling on the water. He
thought he could make out a shadowy line moving
away. He glanced behind him to see the brawl was still
raging.
    A roar dragged him back to stare at the far bank. His
eyes widened when he saw the shadow line strike. Spray
leapt into the air with a hollow boom and then the wave
was racing back toward him, climbing higher with each
second.
    He'd been more successful than he'd thought.
    He sucked in a lungful of air and dived, aiming for the
river bottom. He felt the wave pass overhead, tugging at
his water-logged clothes, and he was tossed about by
its passage. He clawed for the surface in time to see the
wave, now fifteen feet or more tall, crash against the
embankment. The mass of water crested, then toppled
onto the unsuspecting brawlers.
    Foam crashed on stone. The wave rolled part-way up
the bank, then receded, dragging stunned Marchmainers
and police back to the river with it. Some managed to
cling to the railing, but many ended up in the water.
    A voice came through the darkness. 'Aubrey! Take my
hand!'
    Caroline. He floundered toward the embankment. She
was leaning far out, her other hand gripped by George
who, in turn, had his arm wrapped around the lamp post.
Aubrey found muddy stone underfoot and she gripped
his wrist. She helped him clamber up.
    He rested on his knees, head bowed, panting.
    'You're shaking like a leaf,' she said.

    T HE WAVE HAD DONE WHAT A UBREY HAD HOPED FOR ,
dousing the passion of both the police and the Marchmainers.
The two soggy groups separated, limping away
from each other, the unhurt helping the wounded,
while dozens were being pulled from the river. Sullen
bewilderment had replaced the spell-induced anger, with
the Marchmainers disappearing back over the bridge
before the police could rally enough to make any arrests.
Aubrey watched, wet and shivering. Caroline was
barely damp and had avoided being thrown into the
river. George was wet to his waist and had a bruised
shoulder, but was more concerned with Aubrey's wellbeing
than his own.
    Aubrey sat with his back to a lamp post. He was
exhausted. A gulf yawned inside him, an emptiness that
was frightening. He shuddered, recoiling from its implications.'
Duval?' he asked. 'The others?'
    George had his hands jammed in the pockets of his
jacket. He'd lost his boater. From his sour expression, he
wasn't about to go and look for it. 'No-one's too badly
hurt.