Igniting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology #2) - Robin LaFevers Page 0,141

have seen that happen in the field. One minute the cannoneer is putting the flame to the powder, the next everyone within spitting distance has been killed by the explosion.” He shakes his head. “It is always tragic.”

“Except when it is our enemy,” Lazare points out.

“What if we do both?” I suggest. “What if we cut the horses loose and ensure they are far away by the time we set off an explosion?”

Lazare picks up where I leave off. “Which we will do by picking a few cannon in strategic positions. When they go off, they will destroy not only themselves, but those close to them. If nothing else, they will incinerate the wagons and carts they’re carried on and will be unable to be moved until new ones are built. But once we do this, it will become too dangerous for us to remain nearby. The explosion will be seen for miles.”

“So we go north,” Beast says. “To where Duval and Ismae are. Rohan will keep looking for us here, but we will move on. And if we stay ahead of those expected reinforcements, we can do some damage up there. At the very least, we can harry the supply trains, disrupt the food sources, take out bridges—generally slow them down and make it harder so the garrisons we have freed will have a chance to fight back.”

One by one, we all nod.

“The cannon train,” Beast says. “Then north.”

 Chapter 79

We spend two nights following the cannon train, paying close attention to how it settles itself for the night. There are twenty cannon, each pulled by ten horses. Two drivers are assigned to each transport, and one man to follow alongside to shout out a warning should anything start to slip or go wrong. That is sixty men and two hundred horses, plus grooms and handlers and an additional twenty armed guards. This will not be easy.

On the second night, Lazare and two other charbonnerie sneak into the camp to test both their alertness and, more important, to see what kind of powder they have brought. The sleeping guards stir not at all, which answers one question.

When Lazare and the others return, he is rubbing his hands in glee. “It is corned powder, not serpentine.”

“Good,” Beast says, although it is clear that it means little to him. “What kind of watch did they post?”

“A dozen guards camped near the horses, but only two that are awake. They change every four hours. There are another two posted on watch at the main camp, just outside the perimeter.”

“Perfect,” Sybella says.

On the third night, we make our move. “Horses first,” Aeva reminds us. “Once they are free, the other Arduinnites will encourage them to scatter before the explosion goes off. But first we must deal with their guards.”

“Do we kill them?” I ask.

Aeva gives me a mocking look. “They are transporting weapons to destroy hundreds of innocents in the city. Of course we kill them.”

“It just seems different when they’re asleep,” I point out.

“Yeah, it’s easier,” says Lazare.

I spread out with the others. When Lazare reaches the closest guard, a second heart starts up inside my chest, stopping as Lazare coshes him on the head—killing him instantly and releasing his soul.

As we move through the camp dispatching the sleeping sentries, my chest feels as if it contains a dozen blacksmiths, all hammering at my ribs. Even though I try to ignore it, the force of it causes my hands to shake so that when I slit the first throat, it is an ugly, crooked cut. Seconds later I am greeted by the frantic soul as it rushes from the body, trying to understand what has happened.

When all of those who guard the paddock have been killed, the Arduinnites, silent as a night breeze, begin moving through the horses, speaking to them in voices that are naught but whispers, keeping them quiet and slowly herding them away from the camp.

“Are you okay?” Sybella asks.

I keep my eyes on the horses. “So many souls. And heartbeats.” If she must endure this around the living, I cannot fathom how she does it.

She gives my arm a brisk rub, which helps ground me in the world of bodies and cannon rather than souls.

As we make our way back to the cannon train’s main camp, Sybella and I slip away from the others long enough to kill the two posted watchmen. When we return, there are small groups of charbonnerie clustered around six of the cannon. At some