Igniting Darkness (His Fair Assassin 5)

That is well thought out, as it will give his people a way forward if or when their rights to the wildwood that has been their livelihood for so long are compromised.

Beast scratches his ear. “And I presume you have suggestions on how we may do this?”

“I wondered when you’d ask.”

* * *

Toward the end of the day, we come to another menhir, this one a giant slab of stone laid over two smaller ones, like a table. Lazare turns right at the ancient stone and leads us into a section of the woods so populated by trees, I fear Beast’s wide shoulders will prevent him from passing.

After nearly half a mile through that—accompanied by a number of curses and grumbles from some of the men—the trees thin out abruptly and we spill into a clearing.

This one also contains a handful of the charcoal burning mounds and as many tents. It looks smaller and far less prosperous than Kerrigan’s.

A long, thin man steps from behind one of the trees. By the number of heartbeats surrounding us, I am guessing the others hide there as well.

“Greetings, Burdic,” Lazare says. “I am here with Kerrigan’s permission.”

Burdic’s eyebrows rise higher in his dome-like forehead, staring at the rest of our party. “And the others?”

“Also have Kerrigan’s permission.”

Ignoring us, Lazare dismounts and ambles over to the other charcoal burner. As they talk, Burdic’s eyes keep returning to us, his frown growing deeper.

“You don’t have to like it,” Lazare finally says. “You just have to let me do what Kerrigan ordered.”

Claiming Kerrigan ordered rather than gave permission seems a stretch of the truth, but clearly this is charbonnerie business.

“I’m surprised he doesn’t just say that the Dark Mother is with him,” Beast murmurs in my ear. “That ought to settle it once and for all.”

“Hush. It’s probably your terrifying visage that is giving him pause.” We fall silent as the two men stop talking and head toward us.

Burdic doesn’t bow, but does incline his head, which is something. “I will honor Kerrigan’s promise of hospitality,” he says. “But as you can see, we have little enough to spare, so all I can truly offer you is a place to camp.” His glance keeps flickering to me as he talks, and I wonder what exactly Lazare told him.

“That is all the hospitality we require,” Beast says.

Burdic nods again. “Got work to do. You’re welcome to join us around the fire tonight.” And with that, he returns to his business, the others finally emerging from their hiding places behind the trees. Two, I notice, hold long crossbows, which they lower.

“You five, come with me,” Lazare says, pointing at Beast, me, Maraud, Aeva, and Gen. “The rest can get started making camp. Dark comes early to this part of the forest.”

I find myself wondering if it ever leaves.

* * *

Lazare leads us through the thick leaf mulch to a brownish mound, also covered in leaf mulch. As we draw to the other side, I see a long, narrow opening across the front of it, like some ancient mouth. “Here we are,” Lazare announces. “Ladies first.”

I stare at him. “Am I to climb into that hole in the ground like some badger?”

“It’s not a hole, you half-wit. It’s a cave.”

“With no room to do anything but crawl! I don’t think Beast can even fit through it.”

“I can.” Beast’s voice is muffled as he slips through the opening into the cave beyond.

“Do you require assistance, my lady?” Lazare asks with mocking politeness.

“Of course not, you insufferable goose.” With as much grace as I can muster, I drop to my knees and slither through the opening to find myself in a strange new world unlike anything I have ever seen before. The cave stretches back as far as my eye can see, the ceiling opening up so that there is plenty of room to stand upright. The smell of rich earth is nearly overpowered by a bitter, acrid odor that burns the inside of my nose. Against the walls of the cave are every size and shape of barrel, sacks, shallow cauldrons full of metal shavings, small ceramic pots stacked upon each other, arrow shafts of all thicknesses and lengths, some longer than my leg.

In the very back is an enormous metal table with three round holes in its surface. Hanging over them are wooden poles attached to some kind of a spring. Pestles, I realize. It is a giant mortar and pestle. “For grinding the powder,” Lazare says from beside me.

“You have an entire artillery in here,” Beast marvels.

“Not just any artillery, but the finest in all of France. Or one of the finest,” Lazare amends. “There are two more like it. But this one is a mere day’s ride from Morlaix.”

“Wagons,” Maraud says. “We’ll need wagons.”

Lazare snorts. “If there is anything charcoal burners have, it’s wagons.”

For the first time since hearing Maraud’s news about the English forces, Beast gives one of his slow, feral grins.

Lazare smiles back. “I think we can manage a handful of English with this, don’t you?”

Chapter 84

The water at the mouth of Morlaix bay is a brilliant deep blue, the sun sparkling off the small, wind-tipped waves. It does not look like the staging ground for a vision from hell, although that is precisely what Lazare is describing.

“Here.” He points gleefully. “If we put the cannon here, they will have enough range to reach the ships as they enter the bay.”

We have not yet gone to the town itself, but decided to see if Lazare’s plan was even feasible before proposing it to the city leaders.

“But how do we lure the ships into the bay?” Beast asks. “Surely they will wait for a signal from Rohan that the city is secure?”

Maraud motions to Andry, who reaches for a packet in his saddle. From it he pulls the red and yellow standard of the house of Rohan. “Got it,” he says.

Beast nods in approval, then half closes his eyes, picturing the plan Lazare is suggesting. “Let’s say they have sixty ships. High tide, the flag goes up. They begin sailing into the bay.” He opens his eyes. “Do we have enough artillery to take out a fleet of sixty ships? They could practically fill the entire bay from the coast down to the city itself.”

Lazare has clearly thought of this. “We position some of our weapons farther down, where the chain used to be. Which we’ll need to replace, by the way. We’ll wait until the last of the ships enter, then begin coordinated firing from both sites.”

“Won’t the others turn and run when they see the bottleneck? Once they’re out of the bay, they can simply sail down the coast and find mooring elsewhere.” Maraud echoes my own concerns.

“Yes,” Beast says. “So we will have a small force on either side of the bay to alert us if they do.”

“They could even sail east and pull in at Lannion or Tréguier,” Maraud says. “They might be willing to try taking another port so they can disgorge their entire fighting force.”

“True, but we will have two or three days to finish off the first ships and be ready to meet them by the time they get here. Or we could take the fight to them and set up at a strategic spot to fight on our own terms when they are not expecting it.”

Beast looks at Maraud. “Is Rohan sending a welcome force to ensure Morlaix is open to them?”

“No. He sent a half a dozen men to lie low in the city. When they spot the fleet off the coast, they’re to send a message. That’s when he’ll send troops north to hold the city so the British can disembark.”

“It seems to me we need to find those men first,” I muse. “Gen and I will take care of that.”

Beast nods his agreement. “Our plan still leaves a lot of land fighting, and I don’t like our numbers.”

“What if we could reduce their numbers even more?” Lazare’s eyes shine bright as flames.

“I would like that very much.”

“Then we get a boat of our own,” Lazare says.

“One boat against s

ixty? Or thirty if our first attack is exceptionally lucky?”

“Not just any boat, a fire boat.”

In the silence that follows, all that can be heard is the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks below.

“A boat loaded with flammables, set on fire,” Lazare explains. “Then set to sail right into their fleet.”

We all exchange glances. “It is an intriguing idea,” Beast says slowly. “Except for the part that someone would have to man such a boat. There would be no hope of escape, would there?”

Lazare shrugs and looks away. “Wouldn’t need more than five or six volunteers.”