Fletcher gripped the harpoon and trudged into the blackness, the water squelching in his boots. Every now and again there was a tug on the harpoon’s rope and he would adjust his direction. Twice he stumbled, stifling curses as he grazed his knees on the pebbles that lined the shore. He was not the only one to trip over, judging from the occasional thud and gasp of pain from behind him.
Fletcher wished he’d had the foresight to put on the scrying crystal, for Athena and Ignatius’s night-vision were better than his. Instead, he had stashed it inside his pack in case it fell in the water, and now he was too occupied to delve inside and find it. Even the cat’s-eye spell was out of the question – the yellow light of the spell would reveal their presence, exposed as they were on the river bank.
Despite the pain twinging through his knees, he was glad the gremlins were there to help them. He could not imagine how the other teams would cross the river, not without being swept half a mile downriver before reaching the other side. He hoped that all the teams would make it in time.
‘Stop here,’ Blue hissed.
They were at the base of the pyramid, where the forest had been cleared away to leave a clear path to the stony base of the giant structure. The building towered above like a sleeping giant, and Fletcher was filled with dread at the awesome sight. Shaking his head with resolve, he strained his eyes in the darkness. He was just able to make out the entrance, yawning like a cave mouth.
‘This is being where we part,’ Blue said, his voice low and urgent. ‘We is hiding among our brothers and is attacking tomorrow.’
‘Good luck,’ Fletcher whispered.
‘I is thinking it is you who is needing it,’ Blue replied. ‘The gremlins is living further down the river.’
He paused and lay his fingers across Fletcher’s palm.
‘May we paths cross again, Fletcher.’
With that, the harpoon was jerked from Fletcher’s hand, followed by the fading patter of feet. He looked out into the darkness, hoping to catch another glimpse of the brave little creatures, but they had disappeared into the night. Fletcher’s team had been lucky to find such formidable allies.
After a moment’s pause, Fletcher positioned Athena on his shoulder and pulled the scrying stone from his bag. Swiping her wingtip with it to begin the connection, he strapped it to his eye and took in the scene.
The others were crouched in the dirt around him, their wide eyes unseeing as they glanced around fearfully. Even Lysander seemed nervous, his claws digging a furrow in the earth as he waited for their next move.
‘I can’t believe we made it,’ Fletcher said, looking at the position of the moon in the sky. ‘It’s almost midnight. Let’s see who else is here.’
‘We can’t be the only ones,’ Cress whispered.
Fletcher crouched low and scuttled towards the pyramid, Ignatius loping ahead with his nose to the ground and Athena keeping watch from above.
As they moved closer, Fletcher took in the enormous building. Despite the threat of the foreboding treeline on either side, he could not help but focus on Athena’s view of the structure.
It was larger than anything he had ever seen, even more so than Vocans itself. It was made from a series of square levels that narrowed as they neared the top. Athena’s night-vision showed that the stone slabs it was comprised of were a dull yellow in colour, and their outsides were coated in tangled vines and creepers.
Then they were in the shadow of the pyramid itself, and suddenly they were not alone.
‘Is that you, Fletcher?’ Seraph’s voice called from the entrance, accompanied by the click of a pistol’s flint being pulled back.
‘Put that thing away,’ Malik hissed, and there was a clatter as a gun was knocked to the floor.
The two leaders were crouched in the entrance. Both were soaking wet, their shaggy black hair plastered to their foreheads. They looked miserable, terrified and exhausted.
‘It’s us – no need to go shooting up the place,’ Othello said, picking up the gun and handing it to Seraph. ‘That thing wouldn’t have fired anyway, it looks like the powder’s wet.’
‘Well, that’s what half drowning yourself in the river will get you,’ Seraph groaned, wringing out his hair between his fingers. ‘The others are drying off in the entrance chamber. Don’t worry, you can’t see the fire from outside.’
‘There might be demons guarding the place in there,’ Cress remarked, peering into the entrance. It was a bare corridor that stretched into darkness, with a small chamber to the left. Fletcher could see the hint of the glow of flame from within it, but wasn’t unduly worried. Any guard demons would most likely be deeper inside, if there were any at all. Even so, Seraph shuddered and shuffled away from the entrance.
‘Why are you wet?’ Fletcher asked Malik, remembering the route his team was supposed to have taken.
‘We changed our minds,’ Malik muttered. ‘When Isadora’s team switched to your side of the river, we thought they knew something we didn’t and followed. We met up with Seraph’s team just before crossing.’