Summoner: Book 2: The Inquisition (24 page)

This last statement was met with frosty silence, some shaking their heads, others simply looking on impassively.

‘The Celestial Corps will arrive soon, along with the teams’ jungle guides and demon sponsors. I want you all to show them your appreciation for the sacrifice these young men and women make today.’

As applause broke out, tiny dots appeared in the clouds, at first circling like bees around a honeypot, then growing larger until they filled Fletcher’s vision with enormous, flapping wings. There were dozens of them, all powerful flying beasts that spiralled in perfect formation.

Lovett landed lightly beside them, the click of Lysander’s claws barely making a sound. The Griffin folded his wings and kneeled beside Fletcher.

‘I can fit two of you,’ she whispered, pulling Fletcher up alongside her. Sylva slipped wordlessly behind him, a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. She lay her head on his rucksack, grasping him around the waist tightly.

‘It’ll be fine,’ Fletcher said, though unconvinced of his own words. There was no movement from Blue. It was as if the gremlin knew he should be silent.

Another demon landed alongside them, hooves clopping on the ground. It was an Alicorn, one of the rarer demons in Hominum’s arsenal. Fletcher admired the beautiful white pelt and swanlike feathers, its body moving gracefully among the crowd of students. It looked like a large horse, but for its broad wings and a long cone of a horn that erupted from its forehead.

The rider’s face was obscured by his leather cap and wide goggles, but he waved Cress and Othello aboard and then pulled them up beside him, their short stature making it difficult for them to mount themselves.

More demons followed, each landing accompanied by a cheer from the watching soldiers. Hippogriffs swooped in; like Griffins in physical form but with the body and back legs of a horse instead of a lion. Antlered Perytons clattered across the stage, appearing for all the world like elven elk but for their large, tawny wings, elongated tail feathers and the razor-sharp talons on their hind legs.

There was even the occasional Chamrosh, miniature Griffins but with a hawk’s head and wings and a dog’s body and mannerisms. These were too small to be ridden – only twice the size of Athena, perhaps. They instead provided much needed support and were excellent companions to the primary demons of the Celestial Corps.

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.

Fletcher smiled and pointed his palm into the sky. Athena erupted into existence with a flash of blue light, spiralling in an elegant pirouette until she was gliding just ahead of Lysander’s beak.

‘You might want to move her,’ Lovett chuckled, though Fletcher didn’t understand the joke. He wracked his brains, confused, then Sylva whispered:

‘Most of Hominum is watching this through Lysander’s eyes. I don’t think they’d appreciate a view of Athena’s backside.’

‘Oh!’ Fletcher laughed, nudging Athena downwards with a swift thought. ‘I forgot!’

‘I won’t be forgetting in a hurry,’ Lovett grumbled, rubbing Lysander’s tufted ears. ‘Lysander spent most of yesterday being poked and prodded by crystals to be distributed around the Empire. We had to stand beside Hannibal, Zacharias’s Wendigo, the entire time. That thing smelled riper than a gremlin’s loincloth.’

Within Fletcher’s backpack, Blue shifted, as if he recognised the word. Fletcher didn’t even know if gremlins were capable of speech, but he changed the subject quickly.

‘Why are we flying above the clouds?’ Fletcher asked. ‘Don’t we need to see the lay of the land?’

‘Actually, we’re lucky the day is so overcast,’ Lovett said, shaking her head at him. ‘There are thousands of orcs, gremlins, maybe even goblins, going about their day-to-day business below us. This is their territory now. If even one of them happened to see us flying above them, this mission would be over before it has even begun. No, we’ll be staying in cloud-cover until we reach the drop zone. You’ll be pretty safe there – the Celestial Corps scouts tell us it’s relatively uninhabited.’

Fletcher swallowed, the thick bank of clouds suddenly seeming an insubstantial barrier between him and the land below. Indeed, on occasion the mist thinned, giving him tantalising glimpses of mountainous terrain, all of it covered in an overgrown mass of greenery. He dreaded to think how long it would take them to make their way back, should the Celestial Corps fail to extract them. If they could even make it back at all.

For the first time, he noticed a short lance attached beneath the side of the saddle. It appeared rather like a jousting pole of the knights of old, but a little shorter and more robust. This one was painted with stripes of white and blue, with a fearsome metallic tip that glinted in the sunlight.

‘What’s that?’ he asked, pointing at it.

‘A lance, what else?’ Lovett replied, tugging it from its holder and demonstrating by couching it under her arm. ‘When you’re fighting a Wyvern, the lance is the only thing that will pierce its hide, and even then, you’ll need some speed behind the blow.’

Fletcher shuddered at the thought of fighting so high up, riding on demons that clashed together in a flailing mess of wings and claws.

‘Sometimes you’ll get an unwelcome passenger drop in,’ Lovett continued, replacing the lance and removing a blade from a scabbard at her side. ‘Shrikes, Strixs or Vesps are the most common, smaller orc-flying demons, and if they get too close, you have to take them out with this.’

Fletcher recognised it to be a rondel dagger – a needlelike blade with disk-shaped guards on the top and bottom of the hilt to protect the wielder’s hands.

‘Of course, that’s forgetting all the battle-spells flying around,’ Lovett said, twirling the dagger with practised ease and returning it to her scabbard. ‘If you thought spellcraft was difficult before, just wait until you have to do it in a dogfight.’

Fletcher shuddered, and for the first time resented how quickly he had been put through Vocans. One year was not nearly enough time to learn all that summoning had to offer, nor to perfect the techniques that he
had
managed to learn.

He had been told that orc shamans had weaker demons in general, but he wondered if that was truth, or propaganda. After all, Wyverns were some of the most powerful demons in existence. Perhaps it was the demons that were sent against the front line that were weaker, and the more powerful demons were being held back. For now.

‘We’re following the river,’ Lovett shouted as the wind picked up and snatched at her words. ‘You’ll be dropped in a swamp that feeds into one of its sources. Won’t be long now!’

As if she had heard, Ophelia came to a halt at the head of the squadron. For a moment she hovered there, peering at the ground below, then she shot three wyrdlights into the sky in quick succession.

At the signal, Lysander folded back his wings and they dropped through the clouds like a falling arrow, hurtling through the air so fast that the wind tore at Fletcher’s eyes and face. He took in a brief blur of green landscape, then leaves were slapping across his legs and arms.

Lysander seemed to leap from branch to branch, each one springing down like a bent sapling, slowing their descent to the point of breaking, only to be released as he moved on to the next. Finally, when Fletcher thought it would never end, there was a soft thud as the Griffin’s claws tore into the soil, skidding along the top and leaving four furrows behind them. They came to a halt moments before hitting a tangled patch of thorny briars.

‘Now that’s what I call a quick descent,’ Lovett whooped, punching the air with her fist. Fletcher felt Sylva slowly roll off Lysander’s back, collapsing on the ground with her legs akimbo, still conformed to the shape of the saddle.

‘That was awful,’ she gasped, digging her fingers into the ground.

‘I thought you’d be used to heights, what with the Great Forest and all,’ Fletcher said, though his own heart was pounding so hard he could almost hear his pulse in his ears. He jumped to the ground and promptly collapsed beside her, his legs numb from gripping Lysander’s sides for so long.

‘It’s not so much the height as the descent,’ Sylva replied, slapping him playfully on the chest. They lay there, watching, as other riders glided more slowly through the canopy.

‘Idiots,’ Lovett grumbled, watching as one of the crates was lowered through the treetops by a pair of hovering Griffins. ‘The longer we take to land, the more likely the orcs might spot us.’

Athena fluttered down and perched on Fletcher’s chest, blinking as she examined him. She paddled with her paws at his stomach and legs, making sure he was still in one piece. He grinned and stroked her, revelling in the strange way her downy plumage blended with the soft fur of her chest and back.