Chapter 35: Reinforcements and Plans.
Orrin stood outside his tent, looking out across the sea of tents outside Ilirea. His army had taken just five days to reach the city, and now the siege engines that had been sent north from the border towards the city in anticipation were about to join them. He could see them now, advancing from the south, their orange uniforms flashing as the siege towers, battering rams, catapults and ballistae moved towards the camp. They would have travelled very slowly in between the cities if the heavy machines had been with them, so Orrin had made them a separate force and had them advance to meet them outside the capital, taking lighter weapons of war instead. But they would be unable to take the biggest and best defended city in the Empire without some serious power at their disposal, hence the siege engines.
They were heading for an area that had been left for them at the back of the camp. The cavalry occupied the right hand side of the front section, and the infantry the left. Orrin's tent, of course, was behind all of them, and to the far left were the Riders, behind a hill, in the cages that had been brought, with their dragons as well. They had done their job quickly at Dras-Leona, and Orrin was confident that they had not been found out, so he had decided that they wouldn't take part in the attack on Ilirea. The more magicians in the city, the more risk of being discovered, and the capital had the most magicians of all.
And the most powerful, especially that Saren. He might be able to beat Zimar, with all I've heard of him... We shall have to be careful. Their forces will be prepared. We must bombard for as long as we can, and we must break in as fast as possible... As usual, Zimar shall lead the attack, with two other magicians at least, in fact, four. Once the gate is broken, they shall lead our cavalry charge, in case Saren or some other magicians try to stop them, as will probably happen. They should be prepared to fight, and to fight hard. This shall be the biggest battle yet. Orrin had made his decisions on the strategy. He turned, heading for his commanders.
The large tent for the meetings was nearer the centre of the camp. Orrin got onto his horse and rode through, his personal guard of ten magicians, that he had assigned after Dras-Leona, following on their own steeds.
He arrived, dismounted, and strode into the tent, where a large map was spread around a table. Zimar and Orrin's general, Rithis, stood around the table, pointing at the map, which showed Ilirea, and the area around it. They bowed as Orrin walked in, then they continued when Orrin gestured. Zimar moved a few models of the catapults a way away from the city, spread out. He did the same with the ballistae. Then, he moved a lot of small, carved soldiers up next to the walls, at different positions, next to the guardtowers, followed by the siege towers, that the men could climb up, and they could shoot arrows from at the soldiers on the walls. They were a lot more stable than ladders, and it would take a dragon to topple them. He moved the remainder of the infantry, which was actually the majority of the force, up to the gate, where the massive battering ram was. The cavalry pieces stayed a bit back from the walls, ready to charge through the gate.
"This is how I think we should arrange the troops," said Zimar, gesturing at the map. "Our men with the siege towers, once they get up, can capture the walls, and, if possible, work around to the gate, to open it, if the battering ram hasn't already. The troops around the ram can tell the cavalry when they think the gate will break, and the cavalry, the moment the gate is broken open, charge through the infantry soldiers, who separate to let them past. From there, the cavalry charge through the streets, this way," Zimar drew an arrow in pencil, heading into the city, "Then as we planned before, they split up, charging down the four roads." The arrow stopped, and four more sprouted from the same place, heading down from the crossroads just outside the castle, where the first arrow had stopped. "Then, they reach the wall, riding down the road that circles around the inside of the wall." Each arrow turned upon reaching the wall, circling around clockwise, and then stopped. "Then, they return to the gate." Zimar stopped drawing the arrows and looked at Orrin, who nodded, accepting the plan. Zimar nodded to Rithis, who took the pencil, and, with a glance at the King, began to draw his own arrows.
"After the infantry have split to let the cavalry through, they shall advance through the gate themselves. They move in in force, spreading out, some following the cavalry towards the castle. When the cavalry split up, if there are enough, of course, they will advance forwards, up this street, towards the castle, with the biggest battering ram." He drew arrows heading into the city, then a large arrow from the battering ram up the main street, followed by arrows coming from the soldiers, heading in the same way. "They break into the castle, and kill all inside. The other troops shall divide up, leaving those from the siege towers to capture the walls and the roads around them," Arrows came from the towers, into the guardtowers, along the walls, and then down to the bottoms of the guardtowers. "The other troops spread out through the roads, away from the gate. They go through the whole city, killing any resistance, and if they meet any large groups of enemies, they shall call for reinforcements." Arrows spread through the city. "Two other large groups of troops shall take the smaller battering rams up these main roads," and arrows went up a couple of the streets, "to help the main ram break down the castle door." The arrows joined up with the arrows that had headed straight from the entrance. "This will also help if the way directly to the castle is blocked, or too well defended." Rithis put down the pencil, looking to Orrin for approval, which he got. The King was pleased. His generals thought like he did.
"Good. Zimar, you and four other magicians shall lead the charge into the city. If the rumours are true, Saren is in charge. You, Zimar, shall have to stop him and any magicians with him." Zimar frowned, narrowing his eyes.
"Six more magicians would be better, I think. Saren is supposed to be very powerful, and I doubt he'll be going out alone." Orrin considered the request, then nodded.
"Very well. Six it is then." Zimar nodded, grateful. "Go and fetch the Riders. I want to talk to them." Zimar nodded again, and walked out of the tent.
Murtagh was depressed.
He was curled up in the cage, not trying to talk in any way, even to Thorn, and eating little. After they had been stopped from communicating again, after they had fought the dragon, he had been that way. Taiven couldn't tell what he was doing. Probably mourning, imagining what could have been or thinking up a thousand ways for Orrin to die. Taiven had kept herself occupied with the latter, but her inspiration had stopped after she reached three hundred and seventy one. She doubted he was doing the same, though, he seemed too... unhappy, rather than angry, to be thinking of revenge, although it would definitely cross his mind, he just wasn't concentrating on it. Taiven wanted to comfort him, but he had Thorn for that. The red dragon was lying next to him, wings folded, curling his body around his Rider, trying to reassure him, without words, as they still couldn't communicate. Thorn's efforts, however, appeared to have little effect, Murtagh stayed as he was, still, unmoving.
Taiven sighed, then turned and crawled under Miremel's wing. She couldn't understand Murtagh's pain, not fully. She had never escaped imprisonment, found freedom, and then had it snatched away again. She had never lost a loved one, and she had definitely never been forced to kill a loved one either. She had, all things considered, had a perfect life. Something bad, she realised, had been bound to happen at some point. But it didn't have to be this bad.
She moved closer to Miremel, feeling the heat coming off the brown scales. She sensed Miremel's pleasure through the bond that they always shared, as she wrapped her tail around Taiven as well. Taiven smiled-a rare occurrence now, after Orrin.
Suddenly, a voice came from outside the cage. It was a voice Taiven knew, and hated.
"Well well well, a couple of dragons and Riders! Who would have thought that the all-powerful protectors of the land would be in such a state? The King wants you, scum, and he wants you now. Get moving!" The door of the cage swung open. Miremel snarled, Taiven stood, and Zimar, who was standing in the doorway, smirked. "Get moving!"
She strode over to the cage door as Zimar opened Murtagh's. Murtagh stood up stiffly, and Taiven could see that he had been crying, his eyes red and puffy. Miremel went to follow Taiven out of the door, but Zimar hastily slammed it.
"Riders, not dragons. Follow. And by the way, you can talk now, but only amongst yourselves, or to me or the King." Orrin had told them that Zimar could say when they had a right to speak now, so Taiven immediately melded her mind with Miremel's. They delighted at being joined together fully again, and Murtagh smiled a bit as well, so he must have contacted Thorn too. The Riders looked at their dragons, then followed the magician, slowly.
He glanced around at them, and barked, "Faster!" They picked up their pace, heading towards the camp. Zimar had mounted a horse, which he sped up to a fast trot, laughing as he saw the Riders running after him, and he increased his speed to a gallop, still laughing at them. His laugh evaporated, however, when Murtagh sprinted ahead with the speed of an elf, catching up with the horse in seconds. Taiven was astounded by his speed, and so, it seemed, was Zimar, so much so that he stopped the horse and stared at Murtagh, who had stopped just behind him. The pause let Taiven catch up, as Zimar looked warily at Murtagh, then carried on riding, slower now, heading for the centre of the camp.
Zimar got off his horse and led them into a tent. There were ten men, all magicians, guarding it, but they let Zimar and the Riders through without question. The King was there, talking to his general, who Taiven recognised as Rithis. A map was laid on the table, arrows heading through the streets and models of soldiers positioned around it. She realised that they were planning the attack.
Zimar walked forwards and bowed to Orrin. "Your Majesty, they are here." Orrin nodded, then turned back to Rithis and continued talking.
"...Once Ilirea is taken, we shall have to do something about the attack from the men of Gil'ead. It would currently appear that we should defend the city, though that may depend on the state it is left in after our assault. We may be forced to attack them in the open if they could get into the city easily, but I would rather avoid that. Defending is easier than an all-out battle." Rithis nodded in agreement.
"Yes, my King. We can put the cavalry on the wall with bows if we are defending, that will be a more useful task for them than just staying still somewhere else." Orrin acknowledged him with a tilt of his head.
"We can worry about that after we have won the city. For now, prepare the troops. We attack at sunrise, and I want them in position before then." Rithis nodded and exited the tent.
The King turned to the Riders. "You shall not be in this battle. As you were not seen by any enemies that you did not kill, they won't yet know of you. We should try to keep this advantage, and magicians will be quicker to see you in the capital, so you shall stay, and listen to the sounds of the soldiers of the Empire, those that you supported, screaming in horror and pain as the city falls!" Orrin smirked, not a good look.
Then again, Taiven thought, when does he ever look good?
"Unless, of course, your men are doing the screaming, Orrin, "said Murtagh, calmly. Orrin shot him an angry glare, and slapped him. Murtagh stood there and took the blow, not caring for his own well-being anymore.
"Do not talk to me in that way again, do you hear?" The king was furious, and he let it show for once. Murtagh kept his cool though, looking him in the eyes.
"In what way, Orrin? In an honest way, speaking the truth? Very well, I shall just keep lying to you then." Orrin kicked him in the groin, and Murtagh doubled over, whereupon Orrin kneed him in the face. Murtagh stood again, spoke a few words to heal his nose, which was bleeding, and stared at Orrin again, no reaction on his face.
"Murtagh, you shall speak nothing but the truth when speaking to me, do you understand?" Murtagh nodded, his expression unchanging.
The King looked at him, then Taiven, and then he spat in Murtagh's face.
Again, there was no reaction. Orrin glared, then said, "You shall now return to your cages. Zimar, escort them." Murtagh turned, walking out. Taiven hurried to keep up as Zimar mounted his horse.
"Murtagh, what's wrong with you? You seem... Distant." He turned to her, sorrow in her eyes.
"Grief, hate, and a lack of hope." He continued walking, leaving her standing still, suddenly losing hope as well. If someone so much stronger, wiser, and more experienced than her had sunk into despair, what chance was there for her?
Taiven, there is always hope. Hope is there. It is constant, and even when it looks like there is no hope, there is. There once was almost no hope for the Varden, yet they fought on as hard as they could, and Eragon and Saphira came and saved a capital from destruction. Take heart, for that may well happen again. So, even when all seems lost, walk on, with hope in your heart, and remember, Taiven, that you'll never walk alone, for I shall always be there for you. Miremel's words rang true, and Taiven accepted them, sending thanks to her dragon.
How did you think that up so fast? She asked Miremel, curious.
Thorn and I were working on that ever since you left. He asked for my help to try to bring Murtagh out of his melancholy, so it wasn't all just what came into my head at that moment. A bit of embarrassment slipped from Miremel's mind.
Well, it was brilliant, and it has set my mind at ease. Thank you, Miremel.
It was my pleasure, little one.