The Inquisition (Summoner, #2)(57)
Fletcher was amazed. He had never seen such an array of demons, especially such large and powerful specimens. He had become used to seeing the same demons at Vocans, and had almost forgotten the variety of species Hominum had at its disposal.
He was also glad to see no Gryphowls. Athena was a rarity, and he was looking forward to allowing her to stretch her wings on the flight. He had made sure that Ignatius and Athena were infused within him for as long as possible before the mission, so that they were well rested and had recovered as much mana as they could. Still, it felt strange to be without Ignatius for so long, and Athena’s presence within his consciousness had taken some getting used to. Though she intruded rarely in his thoughts, as to be expected from a well-trained demon, Fletcher was still finding it hard to direct instructions to just one demon’s consciousness at a time.
‘Everybody ready?’ Scipio shouted, watching as the final students mounted their respective steeds. At their head, Fletcher could see Ophelia Faversham mounted on her own Peryton, pale hair streaming in the wind. She carried Zacharias Forsyth behind her, there to see off his Wendigo when they reached the landing zone, or perhaps as added protection. Rook was also mounted, clutching the midriff of another officer and wearing a queasy look on his face.
Caliban, Sacharissa and the Wendigo were nowhere to be seen, but Fletcher knew they couldn’t be infused or the connection to the scrying stones would be broken. Then he saw the soldiers pointing above them. He followed their gaze, and was amazed to see three large crates floating high in the sky, each one attached to two members of the Celestial Corps. It was small wonder that Rook looked so nauseous, for the boxes swayed pendulously back and forth and their owners would be able to sense the motion through their demons.
‘Where’s Arcturus?’ Fletcher asked, noticing the absence of Seraph’s sponsor, and Lovett pointed at the man on the Alicorn beside them. All of a sudden, Fletcher recognised the lower half of the man’s face, and could see the edge of the scar beneath the goggles.
‘A gift from King Harold!’ Arcturus shouted, patting his Alicorn on the neck. ‘I call him Bucephalus, or Buck for short! He’ll keep me company while Sacha’s away.’
Lovett turned to Fletcher and Sylva, a happy smile on her face.
‘Arcturus will be part of the extraction team when you’ve completed the mission, or if you need rescuing. It will be nice to have a riding companion … once you’ve returned Lysander to me of course.’
Fletcher could see that all the others had now mounted, including Jeffrey, though it was difficult to see who was who with the milling demons and flapping wings in the way.
At a barked order from Ophelia, the Celestial Corps turned to face the jungles. Then, with a dry mouth and pounding heart, Fletcher was launched into the air for the second time that week.
The ground dropped away faster than he thought possible, the sea of red uniforms shrinking into no more than a puddle, pooling against the dark bar of the trench. Still they flew higher, the clouds rushing to meet them. Before they broke through, Fletcher caught a glimpse of an endless, undulating blanket of green, broken only by the thick snake of a river that meandered towards their front lines before curving back in on itself.
‘That was the river that boy, Mason, came in on,’ Lovett shouted as they burst out of the clouds in a wash of mist. ‘The one who brought back the body of the goblin. He’s a brave soul – I wouldn’t have the guts to do what he’s doing.’
They were gliding above a great stretch of white mantle of cloud that extended as far as the eye could see. Now that they were above them, the sun blazed brightly in the sky, reflecting off the bank of clouds to give them a fierce glare. It was strange, for the sky had been overcast and grey before they flew through them.
‘What do you mean, about Mason? Why is he brave?’ Sylva asked, her voice breathy with excitement, hands clasped tightly around Fletcher’s midriff.
‘Why would he want to guide Malik’s team?’ Lovett replied. ‘Remember the state he was in when he came back over the front lines? He’s either mad or fearless to go back. I can’t tell if it’s out of loyalty to his friends who are still captives, or if he’s after the money that comes with it.’
The formation of flying demons began to glide south, many just above the cloud line, their feet brushing along the tops. Fletcher stretched out his toes, hoping to feel something, but all he felt was the gradual soaking of his moccasins.
‘I have something for you,’ Lovett said, reaching into her saddle panniers. She withdrew a scroll, tightly bound with a red ribbon.
‘If something happens to me while you’re out there,’ she said, pressing it into Fletcher’s hands, ‘this is Lysander’s summoning scroll. I don’t want him fading back into the ether in the middle of your mission if the worst happens.’
‘Thank you,’ Fletcher said, touched by the gesture. ‘You will have it back when we return.’
He tucked it into the side pocket of his satchel, careful not to disturb the gremlin. If Lovett found out about the fugitive he was harbouring he wasn’t sure how he would explain himself.
On they flew, the sun baking their skin, the wind watering their eyes with each gust. But it was not long before the exhilaration of flying wore off and the reality of where they were going sunk in.
‘Why don’t you let Athena stretch her wings?’ Lovett suggested, sensing the tension.