All around, more rose-coloured dolphins leaped and dived, whistling and clicking with what sounded like laughter. The gremlins clapped their hands with joy, some even throwing titbits from the pouches at their waists for the dolphins to catch. Many replied, matching the dolphin sounds with their own. It was strangely beautiful to watch, as if the two were singing to each other.
‘The old men of the river is blessing journey!’ Blue laughed, splashing the water beside his coracle to beckon one to the surface. ‘It is being good omen!’
The dolphin rubbed its rosy flipper along Blue’s fingertips, as close to a handshake as the two species could manage. Then, as if some silent signal had been passed between them, the dolphins shot off upstream, leaving the coracles to continue their journey alone.
‘That was beautiful,’ Sylva said, gazing after them. She turned to Blue. ‘Could you understand them?’
‘We is speaking many words while they is speaking few,’ Blue said, smiling from ear to ear. ‘Some say, long ago we is learning to speak from they. It is not the same, but we is understanding they meaning.’
As he spoke, his face darkened. Fletcher followed his gaze, peering through the dim light of the setting sun.
A crumbling statue lay on its side by the water’s edge, layered with moss and vines. The head was partially submerged in the shallows, but there was no mistaking the creature it depicted, with its broken tusks and jutting brow. They were in orc territory now.
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.’