“You’re not strong enough for what I need,” Venick had told him.
“Then let me help in some other way.”
Some other wayhad come later that same night, when Venick asked Rahven about the elves’ black powder stores, only to discover that northerners didn’t mine black powder. Explosives, Rahven explained, were a human weapon, and therefore shunned by the elves.
“You’re telling me we don’t haveanyblack powder in our supplies?” Venick had asked.
“None.”
So they’d stolen some.
It was a well-guarded secret that the lowlanders hid their black powder on their barges. When the generals had chosen this location, they’d smiled and clapped shoulders, pleased with their cleverness. Barges were mobile and could therefore set sail in case of a siege on the city. Their most precious weapon could be kept out of enemy hands. Better, if the city was to come under attack, the highly flammable powder would be readily accessible for firing the cannons on their warships. It was, the generals agreed, their best defensive strategy.
Convenient, that no one thought to mention that black powder, if exposed to water, was rendered useless. Convenient, that no one bothered to consider how easily a barge might be stolen or sunk. Those were more messy details to be swept away with the rest.
Sneaking onto the docks had been easy. Knocking out the single guard stationed on the pier had been slightly trickier, but Rahven managed it with surprising fluidity.
“I thought you said you couldn’t fight,” Venick remarked.
“This is not fighting,” the chronicler replied.
When they’d taken the guard’s keys from his belt, rowed a small launch out to the barge and unlocked its hull to reveal row upon row of black powder barrels, Rahven’s eyes had gone wide.
“Just a little,” Venick said. “We don’t need much.”
They’d stolen enough of the fine, sooty stuff to fill a good-sized pouch. On the way back, Venick had stooped to return the keys to the guard’s belt, then dug through the man’s vest until he’d found a purse of gold coins, which Venick pocketed. “Not forme,” he’d sighed at Rahven’s critical glance. “For him.” When the man woke, this would all look like a case of petty thievery.
They’d returned to the execution pit—a deep, earthen hole in the ground—shortly before dawn. Venick hopped inside, pouring several thin trails of black powder from the pit’s center out, towards the city. Not far enough to pose any danger to Irek. Not large enough to hurt anyone. Just enough for what he needed.
You hope.
Rahven had helped haul him back out, and together they’d fled into the forest to wait until morning. Movement overhead had caught Venick’s attention. He peered into the starry sky and spotted it: a currigon hawk. The creature looped once, twice, then winged higher. It was odd to see a wild currigon this far south. They usually ranged in the northern mountains. But Venick remembered Rahven’s story about currigon hawks being a symbol of hope and was encouraged. Somehow, the hawk seemed fitting.
Now, Venick watched through the trees as the lowland soldiers threw their torches into the pit. The kindling caught. Smoke clogged the air. Venick couldn’t quite see the highlanders down inside, but he could imagine how they would have moved to the pit’s edges, maybe clutching each other, eyes shining with the growing flames.
Venick glanced at the elves to his left and right. Lin Lill was among them, as was Artis, an old member of Ellina’s troop. The elves all watched Venick, waiting for his signal.
Not yet.
He peered back towards the pit. His heart hurt. He was, only now, seeing all the many flaws in his plan. There were a dozen things that could go wrong, a dozen ways he might accidentally kill a lowlander, or an elf, or himself.
Not the time for doubts, Venick.
He trapped his command between his teeth. Held up a fist.Hold.
The smoke grew thicker. It coughed and spat into the sky.
Hold.
Someone inside the pit gave a cry. The sound seemed to hang in the air for longer than possible.
Hold.
Then: a sharp crackle. A burst of light.
A whip-quick flash of fire, racing out of the pit into the crowd.
It happened fast, too fast for the eye to follow. There was a moment of hectic confusion as the grass beneath the townspeople’s feet caught fire and several soldiers rushed to help stomp it out. Then a second ball of flame leapt into the crowd, and a third. They were like firecrackers, flashing and zipping, catching on the invisible trails of black powder and streaking upwards, landing on people’s shoes and clothing only to be quickly smothered. In the ensuing chaos, Venick snapped his command.Now.
