Chapter 36: Preparing for the Assault.
Ilirea, the capital. All remnants of the former black monstrosity that had topped the central hill were gone, and in its place was a towering castle of marble, the sun gleaming off it. The six elegant elf towers, left from before Galbatorix's reign, had been rebuilt where necessary, fixed where not, pointed up to the sky, towards the sun. On the walls and in the streets of the city, soldiers marched, helmets shining, an impressive display of strength, but they would all occasionally glance fearfully out of the city at an even greater one.
The camp outside Ilirea was huge. There were probably more than twice as many soldiers there as there were in the city, and the people inside, it was easy to see, had little hope. Even in the castle, the best defended place in the city, possibly the empire, faces were strained, eyes were worried. All of them.
Apart from one.
Even as he gazed out towards the enemy army from the top of the castle, Saren remained calm. He accepted death as a possibility, and he wasn't afraid. He knew his duty and he did it, with, of course, the odd sarcastic remark, or everything would just be boring. It was for that reason too that he drank sometimes. Just to break the monotone of the daily work. However, since the news of the war, he had been as sober as anything, summoning troops from Bullridge, talking to the army from Gil'ead, and in general organising the defence of the city. While the men from Bullridge had arrived earlier that day, it would be three days until Gil'ead's men reached them, and his plans for the defence had changed drastically once he had seen the enemy reinforcements with all their heavy equipment for taking the city coming towards their camp from the south. The additional troops were fast approaching the camp.
Originally, he had planned for a siege. With only a few light battering rams it would take a while to break into the city, so Saren had planned to just put all his men, with bows, on the walls and around the gate. Many of the enemy would be killed, and if it became apparent that the gate would break, half their men would drop their bows, pick up sword and shield, and stay behind the gate, to kill the soldiers when they broke through. It had been a good plan, but the siege engines changed everything.
Now, as the Surdans would definitely break through, Saren would need to change his strategy.
Now, the objective is not to hold them off, for that is impossible, we must simply kill as many as possible, and make it easier for the Empire's soldiers to get in once we fall, for fall we will.
He had already come up with a plan for the gate, one that would do both of those things. The rest of the city, however, would be harder.
There has to be a force inside the gate, to try to hold off the invaders. If they're infantry near there, cavalry will be best, and some horsemen should be there anyway. Myself and five magicians shall lead the cavalry, to try to kill their leader. If that is not possible, a retreat along the main road would be a good idea, with spearmen hiding in the adjacent roads. They can attack from the sides, giving us some time to regroup and set up a few traps along the way, traps to kill and delay the soldiers. Ideas immediately sprang to mind. Push blocks of stone into their path and have soldiers shoot at them at the same time. Throw boulders off roofs... The list goes on. I shall have someone find me the boulders and stuff. Perhaps we would need to destroy something to get them...
Suddenly, he had a brainwave. He thought it through, and it had its flaws. Someone will have to weaken it first, I'm not strong enough on my own... Saren headed off the battlements, down the spiral staircase, to give the orders to the second-in-command of the magicians, Atheris. He had a lot to do before the inevitable attack.
Roran's troops stopped, ready to pitch their tents for the night. The army was footsore, having walked for seven days consecutively, but they knew they could not rest for a single day. The capital was in danger, and they had to save it. In fact, thought Roran, speaking of the capital...
He quickly rode Snowfire across to Jormundur. He wasn't King yet, as he hadn't been crowned, but Roran saluted anyway as he rode up. "Hail, Your Majesty!" Jormundur turned to Roran, with both an annoyed look and a grin on his face.
"Hail, Lord Roran Stronghammer of Palancar Valley! Seriously though, stop calling me that, or you'll be back to plain old Roran!" The two men laughed, then turned to watch the Nighthawks assemble the old command pavilion, accompanied by much muttering, grumbling and cursing. Four of them went to fetch the mirror, the desk, the small chairs and the chair that was more like a throne for Jormundur. Roran looked at the Nighthawks, and a question sprung to mind. He turned to Jormundur.
"What are they called now?" Jormundur frowned, puzzled, so Roran elaborated. "The Nighthawks, I mean. Since "Lady Nightstalker" is dead. The "Jormundurhawks" doesn't have the same ring to it. Also, it sound ridiculous." Jormundur laughed.
"That it does." He considered for a second, then said, "I think they'll keep being the Nighthawks, in honour of her memory." Roran nodded, understanding.
Once the tent was up, Jormundur and Roran had one of the Nighthawks scry the magician, Saren, who was in command at Ilirea. The spell was cast, and the Nighthawk left the tent.
The mirror revealed Saren, in a room that appeared to be some sort of office. A man, who was older than Saren, with bits of grey in his hair, stood behind a desk. Saren was speaking.
"...Don't care about what they think, Atheris, they won't complain if it saves their lives. Now go, and prepare the selected buildings. Move the people out. I want it done. Now!" Atheris, the grey-haired man, walked out of the room with a nod. Saren turned and spotted the two men in the mirror. He bowed, low, then began to give a report on his plans.
"Greetings, my lords. King Orrin has arrived outside the city." He would have said more, but Roran made a comment.
"Has he decided to send Royal Greetings yet? That's what happened last time he was outside with an army, trying to attack the city! Remember that, Jormundur?" The King laughed.
"Remember it I do. That was when he tried to kill you, if I recall correctly. We really should have predicted this at that point, shouldn't we, I mean, it was a clue as to his intentions to say the least!" Roran laughed too, and then they turned back to Saren, who raised an eyebrow.
"In answer to your question, no messenger has been sent, and we do not intend to send one ourselves. It would be a waste of a man. Should I continue with my report now?" They nodded, so he went on. "Orrin has received reinforcements, heading up from the south, and they have brought siege engines. We cannot hope to defeat him now, so I have made plans to simply kill as many as possible. Rather than trying to defend the city, which would be hopeless, as they have more than twice our troops. We shall try, also, to make the city easier for you to capture as well when you reach here. Do you agree?" Jormundur glanced at Roran, who spoke first.
"Do you think it is the right plan? Personally, I see few other available options." Roran said, looking at the King to be, who nodded.
"Aye, I too see few other choices, as much as I dislike the fact that there is little hope for the city. Saren, I agree with your plan. Go ahead with it, do not let it be said that Ilirea was lost without a fight, let it be said that they fought to the death, every last one of them, and that they fought on in such a way in order to bring a chance of peace and happiness for others, rather than for any chance of life for themselves. Let them show their honour, let them show their courage, and let them show that no man under me as King shall die without a good fight! Go now, Saren, and see that this happens!" Jormundur's speech increased in tempo and volume as he went on, speaking confidently, smoothly, and sadly, and Roran could tell that he was thinking of the men that he had chosen to die, but he knew that Jormundur would not hesitate in his duty. He never did, no matter the consequences, which was why he had been the second-in-command. His quick decisions and his self-assurance had gained him everyone's support and confidence, and even Saren seemed motivated by the speech, even though it did not show in his voice as he replied.
"Thank you, Jormundur. I shall inform the troops." He bowed deeply, then he left the room. Roran called for the Nighthawk to end the spell, and the mirror went back to reflecting the inside of the tent. Roran sighed.
"It looks like nowhere is safe anymore." Jormundur nodded slowly.
"Aye, that it does. Where are Eragon and Arya?" Roran had had them scried earlier, so he replied.
"They encountered a storm, which set them back a couple of days. Now, they should arrive at Ilirea two days after us. We shall have time to plan." Jormundur snorted.
"If Orrin decides to give us that time, Roran. What if he attacks first, with his Riders, when we have only one?"
Saren had spoken to Atheris again, and he had passed on Jormundur's message to the troops. Now, it was night, nearly midnight, but Saren was restless. There was an army out there, and he found it difficult to relax when he knew his enemies were near, but he didn't know what they were doing.
Probably sleeping, as I should be, he had thought, but he had still found it hard to rest, so he had ascended to the battlements again, to see what he could see. The cool night breeze was refreshing, but the blackness revealed none of its secrets as he gazed ahead, so he whispered a simple spell that had been very useful to him before.
"Garjzla, kausta."
Light, come.
All the light, however dim, came to his eyes, and only his eyes, with extra strength. The spell took a large toll, but he could see as plain as daylight. He gazed towards the enemy camp, shocked to see movement, and more than just one or two scouting patrols. The entire army was moving into attack positions.
Saren released the spell, and the light faded to darkness again as he ran down to alert everyone. He woke Atheris with his mind, to save time.
Wake the men! Alert the archers on the walls! Prepare! The enemy shall attack at dawn.