The Inquisition (Summoner, #2)(82)
37
Night fell thick and fast, with barely a sliver of moon to illuminate their passage. They dared not produce wyrdlights, for the creek had widened into a tributary and the great river they had to cross flowed ahead, signalled by the sound of rushing water. The pyramid sat on the other side, the dark outline stark against the star studded sky. It was at least ten times bigger than Fletcher had pictured, larger than even Beartooth’s peaks. He forced himself to stifle a curse of disbelief, in case there were enemies lurking nearby.
To keep them together, Blue had tossed them the end of a harpoon each, which they embedded in the rims of their coracles. Lysander and Athena had already flown ahead, to scout out their landing zone on the other side of the river. Even Sariel had been infused by Sylva, for the boat sat too low in the water with her inside. It now contained four gremlins, who deftly manoeuvred the unwieldy coracle into the centre of the fleet.
‘Row, hard and fast,’ Blue said in a harsh whisper. ‘If current is taking you and you no keep up, we cannot save you. Your rope will be cut.’
Fletcher heard the sound of splashing and the coracles began to rock. He was sprayed as they entered the choppy rapids then, as he felt the boat lurch with the running water, he slashed over the side with his oar, desperately propelling the boat forward. Soon Fletcher was surrounded by grunts of exertion as they struggled on, and his world became a seemingly endless repetition of thrust, sweep, pull; thrust, sweep, pull.
The darkness obscured those around him. All his eyes saw was the pyramid against the skyline. Beneath it, thousands of goblin eggs were waiting to hatch, and a tortured soul waited for rescue. They were so close, he could taste it.
As the seconds ticked by, he despaired as the great silhouette slid from right to left, the current pushing them further and further down the river.
His arms burned but he dared not stop. On and on he rowed, snarling through his teeth with every thrash of his oar. Even Ignatius helped, cupping his claws and bailing the water that splashed into the bottom of the coracle and soaked Fletcher’s trousers.
Then, unexpectedly, he felt the grate of sand beneath him. Blue’s nimble fingers grasped his own, tugging him into the shallows of the river bank. The gremlin dragged the coracle behind them, until they had staggered to the edge of the jungle.
‘Dig now,’ Blue hissed, removing the harpoon with a tug and pushing Fletcher’s hands into the soil. ‘We is hiding the boats.’
Fletcher dug blindly at the ground with his hands. Despite his exhaustion, it was surprisingly easy to push aside the earth, for it was loose and dry. Athena fluttered down beside him and helped, as did Ignatius. They pawed the loam between their legs until the hole was deep enough to stash the shallow bowl of a boat, making sure to place it upside-down so it would be easy to remove should they need to return. He could hear the others in the darkness, burying their own coracles. No sooner had they finished, than Blue reappeared.
‘You friends is being ready,’ the gremlin whispered, pushing the harpoon and its coil of rope into Fletcher’s hands. ‘Follow. We eyes see better.’
Fletcher gripped the harpoon and trudged into the blackness, the water squelching in his boots. Every now and again there was a tug on the harpoon’s rope and he would adjust his direction. Twice he stumbled, stifling curses as he grazed his knees on the pebbles that lined the shore. He was not the only one to trip over, judging from the occasional thud and gasp of pain from behind him.
Fletcher wished he’d had the foresight to put on the scrying crystal, for Athena and Ignatius’s night-vision were better than his. Instead, he had stashed it inside his pack in case it fell in the water, and now he was too occupied to delve inside and find it. Even the cat’s-eye spell was out of the question – the yellow light of the spell would reveal their presence, exposed as they were on the river bank.
Despite the pain twinging through his knees, he was glad the gremlins were there to help them. He could not imagine how the other teams would cross the river, not without being swept half a mile downriver before reaching the other side. He hoped that all the teams would make it in time.
‘Stop here,’ Blue hissed.
They were at the base of the pyramid, where the forest had been cleared away to leave a clear path to the stony base of the giant structure. The building towered above like a sleeping giant, and Fletcher was filled with dread at the awesome sight. Shaking his head with resolve, he strained his eyes in the darkness. He was just able to make out the entrance, yawning like a cave mouth.
‘This is being where we part,’ Blue said, his voice low and urgent. ‘We is hiding among our brothers and is attacking tomorrow.’
‘Good luck,’ Fletcher whispered.
‘I is thinking it is you who is needing it,’ Blue replied. ‘The gremlins is living further down the river.’
He paused and lay his fingers across Fletcher’s palm.
‘May we paths cross again, Fletcher.’
With that, the harpoon was jerked from Fletcher’s hand, followed by the fading patter of feet. He looked out into the darkness, hoping to catch another glimpse of the brave little creatures, but they had disappeared into the night. Fletcher’s team had been lucky to find such formidable allies.
After a moment’s pause, Fletcher positioned Athena on his shoulder and pulled the scrying stone from his bag. Swiping her wingtip with it to begin the connection, he strapped it to his eye and took in the scene.