‘What is it?’ Cerva asked, her voice tinged with a mix of horror and curiosity. ‘A demon of some sort?’
‘No,’ Harold said gravely. ‘Not a demon. It is an aberration, a monstrosity. A strange mix of orc and gremlin, created by some dark art unknown to us.’
Fletcher examined the creature. It looked somewhat like a gremlin, for it had the same droopy, triangular ears, elongated nose and bulbous eyes. The fingers were long and nimble like a gremlin’s too, with a similar, if less exaggerated, hunch. It even wore a loincloth of the same design.
Yet it was far too large, standing at a height somewhere between a dwarf and a man. Its mouth was filled with sharp, yellow teeth, and it sported thick canines in its lower jaw that reminded Fletcher of a juvenile orc’s tusks. Its build was on the skinny side, but the cords of muscle that wrapped its limbs left no doubt that the creature was an agile fighter. The corpse’s skin, grey like an orc’s or a gremlin’s, had shrivelled slightly in the liquid.
‘We call them goblins, and they are breeding them by the thou—’ the king began, but was interrupted by Uhtred.
‘Thousands?’ the dwarf cried. ‘We are barely able to hold off the orcs as it is. Numbers were our greatest advantage!’
‘What weapons do these goblins use?’ Sylva asked, leaping on to the table so she could examine the creature more closely.
‘The same ones as orcs, so far as we know,’ King Harold said gravely. ‘Clubs studded with volcanic glass, javelins, rawhide shields, stone-tipped spears, that kind of thing. As Uhtred said, it is their numbers that worry us. Even with the addition of dwarven and elven troops, they may already outnumber us.’
‘How did you find out about them?’ Fletcher asked, his face flushing. Yet Harold answered him readily enough.
‘The boy. Boy, what’s your name?’ Harold asked, snapping his fingers. Fletcher was momentarily taken aback by Harold’s rudeness, but then realised he was still acting.
‘Mason, sire,’ the boy mumbled.
‘Mason here brought that body with him. He took one when he escaped. Clever boy, aren’t you, Mason?’
‘If you say so, your majesty,’ Mason said, lowering his head respectfully.
‘Mason tells us that he saw them spawning from eggs of all things, deep within the orcs’ jungle caves. The one you see is full-grown, one of the first specimens. Sexless beneath those loincloths.’
‘How many of these early specimens are there?’ Uhtred asked, directing his question to Mason.
‘I can’t rightly say, beggin’ your pardon, mister. Maybe a few ’undred,’ Mason said, after a few moments’ thought. ‘They mostly stay ’idden underground, tendin’ the eggs and such. Them eggs ’ave been cookin’ for a long time, ’cos the goblins come out full-grown – I’ve never seen no babies runnin’ about. Some of the eggs must be years old, from the dust and muck on ’em. Once this batch ’atch, there might not be another for while.’
‘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.