‘I’ll get them,’ he muttered. He stood up and swayed unsteadily, his breathing reduced to short sharp pants. The boy was having a panic attack.
‘No, I’ll go,’ Fletcher said, removing his weapons belt. If Mason stumbled just once … they would all fall.
‘I’ll cover you,’ Mason said, the relief clear on his face.
Fletcher tugged off his boots and socks, to better navigate the maze of tangled bodies ahead. He also left his bow, pistols, quiver and scabbard, taking only his sword to cut the prisoners free.
Rufus was making slow progress, his way blocked by a particularly thick patch of slumbering goblins. Fletcher watched as he was forced to turn back and take a more indirect path.
Hoping not to make the same mistake, Fletcher tried to work out the best route around the sleeping goblins.
Then he was walking among them, slotting his feet between the crooks of elbows and knees, holding his khopesh low and straight for balance. A goblin beneath him snorted in its sleep, so close that he felt the rush of air against his ankle. Fletcher froze, his heart in his mouth. For a moment the goblin’s nose rested against his bare skin, wet and cold like a dead fish. He could feel the mucus bubbling on his shin with every breath.
After what felt like an eternity, the goblin swallowed and rolled over, its elbow briefly knocking his leg. The slumbering goblin barely noticed. In fact, it was now splayed over the body of another. Both remained dead to the world.
Emboldened, Fletcher increased his speed, skipping from bare rock to bare rock with careful but swift steps. He knew that it would take just one to open its eyes and see him – then all hell would break loose. He had to get through them quickly.
As Fletcher looked up to check his progress, he saw one of the boys was awake. He was skinny to the point of skeletal, with skin as dark as Electra’s and a wild tangle of tight black curls on his scalp. He watched Fletcher make the last few leaps through half-closed eyes, too tired to react to the figure approaching him. Perhaps he thought Fletcher was a dream.
It was only when Fletcher cut through the straps holding him to the wall that he moved, staring up at Fletcher in awe.
‘Wh-wh … ?’ was all he managed. Fletcher silenced him with a finger to his lips, then moved on to the next prisoner. It was not long before they had all been freed, many of them scrambling away from him as if he was some kind of ghost. The gremlins barely moved. There was no life in their eyes, and many of them had crooked arms and legs, the result of broken bones, poorly set. Fletcher plucked one of them from the ground and pressed it into the tangle-haired boy’s hands. He motioned at the others, until all the gremlins were safely ensconced in a slave boy’s embrace.
A scraping sound came from across the room. Fletcher looked up to see Rufus sawing at the cage, his short sword making swift work of the ancient bamboo. There was no door on the structure. Disturbingly, the orcs had built it around the noblewoman, with no intention of ever letting her out.
Mason waved the boys over, and they began the dangerous journey to the tunnel entrance. Fletcher remained where he was, watching Rufus’s progress. The young noble had managed to cut two bars from the cage, enough for his mother to crawl through. But she remained hunched in the corner.
Gritting his teeth with frustration, Fletcher picked his way across the cave. The light from outside was dimmer, tinged with orange from the sunset. Their time was measured in seconds now, and every second was another that could be spent destroying eggs. In his overlay, the image shifted as Ebony flew back and forth outside the pyramid, exacerbating his struggle to place his feet in the darkness. He winced with each step. It did not help that the mana pulses from Ignatius were becoming more frequent.
There was a moment of pure panic as a goblin stood by the entrance. It staggered into the light of the outside, clutching its belly and crooning. Fletcher stood frozen, still as a statue. He held his breath, gritting his teeth. Then, the goblin was gone.
Soaked in a cold sweat, Fletcher continued on, moving his feet as quickly as he dared. By the time he made it to the cage, Rufus had resorted to frantic whispering, his arm outstretched to the huddled figure within.
‘Mother – Mother, it’s me. Take my hand. Take it, damn you!’
He was sobbing, tears streaking his grimy face. His shoulders shuddered violently with each breath and his hands trembled as they grasped for her.
But the woman refused to move. She simply stared through him with vacant eyes. Blue had not been lying when he’d said her mind was gone.
‘I’ll get her, Rufus. You go on back. You’re no good to her like this.’ Fletcher laid a calming hand on Rufus’s shoulder.
The young noble gulped and stood aside, but shook his head when Fletcher pushed him gently back towards the tunnel.