Fortunately for the team, they seemed to be following the scent they had left down the trail. It occurred to Fletcher that they might be smelling something else, not far away. Perhaps the Wendigo?
It took no more than a minute for them to pass by, but it felt like an age before Fletcher gathered the nerve to step out on the path once more. As he did so, Athena swooped down and alighted on his shoulder, while Ignatius leaped into his arms and buried his head in Fletcher’s chest. It had been a close call.
‘Right, I say we get off this trail,’ Fletcher announced, his voice trembling with nervous energy.
‘Agreed,’ Othello said, emerging from the forest with the others. ‘When the trail runs cold, they’ll come back this way.’
‘Those birds looked like demons,’ Cress said, staring after them. ‘I’ve never seen anything like them before.’
‘Trust me, they’re a real animal,’ Jeffrey lectured. ‘They’re fast as hell and kick like a mule. You should see their eggs – giant green things, you’d take one look at them and think they could be a goblins’ eggs. Try having one of those for breakfast—’
‘You realise they’re heading right for Isadora and the others?’ Cress interrupted, looking in the direction of the column.
‘That’s perfect,’ Sylva said. ‘Maybe they’ll take each other out.’
But Fletcher looked to Lysander, who was watching the retreating army with a concerned expression. Lord Forsyth would have one of Lysander’s scrying crystals with him, so Hannibal would be able to relay a warning to Tarquin and the others. But he knew that with the Wendigo’s size and stench, they would find it difficult to avoid the prowling hyenas. It was tempting. The thought of Didric or the twins being ambushed by orcs was an image he had pictured on many a lonely night in his cell, but then he felt a twinge of rebuke from Athena’s consciousness. Fletcher sighed. She was right. He turned to his friends.
‘Why are we here?’ Fletcher asked, looking them all in the eye.
‘To destroy a few thousand goblin eggs and rescue Rufus’s mother, Lady Cavendish,’ Sylva said, already swinging her pack on to her shoulders.
‘No. Why are we here?’ Fletcher asked again.
They stared at him silently, as if confused by the question.
‘Our team is supposed to be a shining example to the world of cooperation between the races,’ Fletcher said. ‘We are to prove that dwarves and elves are worthy of humanity’s respect. Now I want them dead as much as you; I’d kill them myself if I had a chance. But how will it look if we abandon Isadora’s team, leaving them to be slaughtered?’
Othello and Sylva avoided his eyes, but they knew he spoke the truth.
‘They’re hunting us,’ Sylva whispered. ‘This is our chance.’
‘We don’t know that,’ Cress replied stubbornly. ‘They could just have changed their minds about their route.’
‘If they’re killed, that’s one team fewer to join the raid. Even if they manage to escape, the orcs will raise the alarm,’ Othello grudgingly admitted, lending Fletcher his support.
‘But it’s Didric, Tarquin, Isadora, even Grindle! They’ve all tried to kill every one of us. You’re naive, Cress – the world would be a better place without them,’ Sylva snarled, and Fletcher couldn’t fault her words. Was he really going to save the people who had plotted his execution? He hesitated, but then Cress spoke again.
‘What about Atlas? Does he deserve death just because we don’t like the company he keeps?’ she asked quietly. ‘If we let them die, we would be no better than they are, putting our own ends before the safety of Hominum.’
Sylva exhaled with frustration, then turned back the way they had come, unslinging her bow as she did so.
‘Let’s get this over with,’ she growled.
31
They shadowed the orc patrol for half an hour, using Athena’s vision to make sure they stayed just out of sight. Fortunately, the riders were upwind of them, so the snuffling hyenas could not smell their approach.
‘Wait,’ Fletcher hissed, holding up his fist. ‘They’ve stopped.’
From her vantage point above, Athena could see that the trio of rhinos at the front had come to a halt. Just ahead, the hyenas were yipping with a high-pitched cackle at the trees around them.
‘No guns,’ Fletcher whispered. ‘Bows only. Loose on my signal.’
They took up positions on either side of the trail, keeping to the bushes. It had been a long time since Fletcher had used his bow, but as soon as it was in his grip it all came back, the string gliding easily along his fingers as he nocked a blue-fletched arrow to it. Beside him, Cress grunted as she wound her crossbow, the metal lever on the side slipping in her sweaty fingers.
‘Jeffrey, stay back and cover our rear,’ Fletcher ordered, lining up his shot. ‘If another patrol comes I want to know about it.’