The Inquisition (Summoner, #2)(35)
‘Well, at least that’s something,’ Uhtred said.
‘Indeed.’ Harold nodded gravely. ‘Which brings me to the next part of the meeting. These eggs must be destroyed. Lady Cavendish must be rescued. Our peoples must be unified and morale improved. The question is how?’
‘Leaving aside the morale problem, we cannot mount an all-out assault on the orcs,’ Cerva said as Sylva stepped down from the table. Fletcher followed Sylva’s example, glad to be away from the pickled corpse. Cerva did not wait for him to be seated before she spoke again.
‘You need open ground for your soldiers’ muskets and the orcs would be fighting in their own territory. It would be a slaughter.’
‘I agree,’ one of the generals said. ‘Lady Faversham, can’t your flying summoners mount an assault?’
Ophelia turned to the general and gave him a withering look.
‘Mason tells us he was kept deep in the jungle. He only escaped when he was swept away by a river, using the goblin’s corpse as a flotation device. Is that not so, boy?’ She barely waited for his nod before continuing.
‘That far in, the Celestial Corps might be spotted before we were even halfway there, and the shamans would fly their Wyverns out to meet us. Their airforce is stronger than ours, though we are faster. Even if we managed to reach the target, we would only be able to land at the site for a few minutes, then fly out again before the orc shamans mobilised their Wyverns and caught us up. But there would not be nearly enough time to search the caverns, destroy several thousand goblin eggs and break out a prisoner, especially with half of Orcdom alerted to our presence.’
At her mention of Wyvern riders, Fletcher’s mind flashed to one of the long, tedious demonology lessons with Major Goodwin, where he had learned about them for the first time. They were enormous, scaled creatures, sporting two powerful legs, batlike wings, a long, spiked tail and a horned, crocodilian head. At level fifteen, they were considered the most powerful demons in the orcs’ arsenal, an exception to the belief that orc shaman demons were generally weaker than Hominum’s. There were only a dozen or so of them, but even Hominum’s Alicorns, Hippogriffs, Perytons and Griffins were no match for the fearsome beasts.
For the first time, old King Alfric spoke. Fletcher steeled himself and tried not to glare at the man who had tried to kill him.
‘My dear cousin is right,’ he said, nodding at Ophelia. ‘If we lost the Celestial Corps we would lose our only air defence. Then the Wyvern riders could run rampant without the corps to harry them if they chose to raid Hominum.’
‘So, that’s not an option,’ Harold said, though his tone suggested that he had already known this. ‘But I have a solution. It is a risky plan, one that we would need a unanimous decision on. I propose we send in four teams of graduates from Vocans – to go behind enemy lines, rescue Lady Cavendish and destroy the goblin eggs. As battlemages, they will be powerful enough to defend themselves effectively, whilst also being in small enough numbers to pass through the jungle undetected. We cannot risk our experienced officers – the soldiers need their leadership on the front lines.’
Harold paused to see the council’s reactions, but this time the silence was one of surprise rather than disinterest. Fletcher’s mind raced, contemplating the plan. It could work, true – but it was so, so dangerous.
He already had an idea of who would be sent on this fateful mission – and a kick from Othello under the table told him he wasn’t the only one. He met Sylva’s eyes across the room. Her gaze was impassive, but he could see the muscles of her jaws were clenched.
‘They will each be given a guide to lead them,’ Harold continued blithely, ‘and once they have completed their mission and are out of the caves, the Celestial Corps will fly them out of there.’
Again, silence. Harold’s carefully rehearsed speech was not having the desired effect.
‘But that’s not all,’ the king said. ‘We can unite all three races behind a common purpose. Lord Forsyth. If you would be so kind.’
Zacharias stood and removed something from his pocket, holding it up to the flickering torchlight, so that all could see. It was a purple crystal, carefully polished and cut into a flat, round gemstone.
‘Corundum crystal. Scrying stones, fulfilmeters and charging stones are all made from it. Up until a few weeks ago, it was one of the most expensive and rare elements in Hominum. No longer.’
Zacharias tossed the crystal across the table, as if it was worthless.
‘The Triumvirate invested in mining operations to supplement Hominum’s limited supplies of sulphur, the key ingredient of gunpowder. We came across a large deposit of corundum instead. Enough to put scrying crystals in every barracks, tavern and village hall across the country, with more to spare.’
If he had expected a reaction from the table he was disappointed, receiving only blank stares.
‘Congratulations,’ Sylva said, with only a touch of sarcasm.
‘Don’t you understand what this means?’ Ophelia said, surprised by their lack of interest. ‘Every person in Hominum can use the scrying crystals to see what is happening on the front lines. It could be a huge morale boost.’
‘Yes, from the perspective of only one demon for each crystal,’ Othello said. ‘And they wouldn’t be able to hear a word – only the demon’s owner could do that.’