A:N - I apologise if you happened to read the first version of this that I published. It was an older draft, where the twins were not outed as spies, but still with the Varden undercover. Honestly, I forgot it still existed, which is why I uploaded the wrong file by accident. Since I usually proof-read in document manager, this was really a stroke of bad fortune. I thank StrawHatLuffy94 for bringing the issue to my attention, and I removed it as quickly as possible. The updated version has now been uploaded, but just to clarify: the twins are NOT still there, as Durza revealed their positions and Eragon told Harry they escaped right before he collapsed after fighting the Shade in Farthen Dur.
Sorry for any confusion on this matter.
Chapter Twenty Six – The Third One
The history of Alagaësia spawned many centuries past, with much being completely undocumented. This led to a lack of knowledge regarding, among other things, The Grey Folk, a long-believed extinct race of beings considered by many to be of almost mystical proportions. Little was known about the dwarves, and even less about the elves, mysterious races who kept to themselves for the most part. Humankind rarely had access to their records, and when they did, such historians were considered to be very fortunate indeed.
Yet, despite the ever-ensuing mystery surrounding other races, it was commonly accepted that there had been no greater exodus than the current one in all of living memory. The flood from Urû'baen paled in comparison to the ongoing outcrop of men, women and children, not to mention Orik's contingent of dwarven warriors from Dûrgrimst Igneitum. The exact number could not be calculated due to losses from the recent battle, but it was estimated to be around three to four thousand. That was not to say many more people did not desert Urû'baen. In fact, the opposite held true. The difference here was the intent behind the mass migration.
It was flee or die, quite simply put.
"I still can't scry Eragon," Harry said. "I'd forgotten about Hrothgar's gifts for the Riders."
"Don't worry about it," Brom replied. "You can still scry the townspeople, correct?"
Harry nodded. "I've seen Roran several times now and caught a glimpse of Eragon once or twice. The background isn't coloured, so he must be making good progress. Besides that, I'm afraid I can't report anything new. Contacting somebody on the other side would require a lot of energy, and I'd rather keep that in reserve for this attack tonight."
"Understood," Brom said. "We can attempt that later. For now it's enough to know that he's safe and moving in the right direction."
"What about that mysterious little creature of yours?" Jörmundur asked thoughtfully. "Could he help us?"
"Kreacher needs more time to rest before he can do anything," Harry pointed out. "I'm sure he'll be able to move much more freely when he's had that chance."
"Hmm... very well. There are no other 'house elves' under your service, are there?"
"I'm afraid not," Harry said, shaking his head. "The only other one who could have helped died fighting at the end of our war. She would have been a great aid to us."
"It matters not," Jörmundur said after a brief silence. "Provided Eragon is in no immediate danger there should be no complications. You managed to eliminate every soldier in Carvahall, correct? Then no magician can alert the king to his current whereabouts," he finished after Harry's affirmation.
"What of mine own people?" Orik asked. "We've been left at the rear this entire trip so far. Surely we can be of use in the night attack."
That was the dwarf's reason for being present. He wasn't there to complain about unfair treatment, but dwarves didn't like to sit idly whilst a battle was ongoing. Harry couldn't blame him, but still...
"I'm afraid we need you where you are," Jörmundur said. "If we run into difficulties the civilians will need an escort to safety, and the dwarves know this area better than anyone."
"Not likely," Orik snorted. "We've come so far that this land is new to most of my kinsmen. Dirt and salt it is, not rock and mountain. We would be of little to no use in an evacuation scenario."
"We can't dismantle the rear guard for an attack we, by all counts, should be able to handle by ourselves," Jörmundur said, a touch sternly. "I'm sorry, Grimsborith Orik, but that's my last word."
"As you command," Orik sighed. "If there's nothing else I should be getting back again. The lads will want to know what's transpired."
"Very well," Jörmundur said. After some brief saluting all round, the dwarf left.
"Are we sure this can be handled alone?" Harry asked, once he had. He gave a quiet signal to the other two then, letting them know that his charm had kicked in. She was there, which meant they had to guard their tongues. They gave him identical nods of recognition. "I don't want to think the numbers of our enemy have been underestimated. Or hidden, for that matter."
"Carn has confirmed it and reconfirmed it a dozen times in the past twelve hours," Brom said with confidence. "We have nothing to fear, provided we stick to the plan. Your plan, I might add."
"I know that," Harry pouted. "I just want to be sure."
"Responsibility is tough to shoulder," the old man said. "But it's something we all get used to after some time in command. You will too."
Not wanting to speak of this anymore, Harry nodded. "What of the egg? If this is a theft attempt..."
"It'll stay here, guarded by Angela and one other member of Du Vrangr Gata. You decide who."
"Isn't that a little lax?" Jörmundur asked, sounding worried.
Harry smiled to himself. This was all a part of the plan, of course. He was looking forward to laughing at the thief's failed attempt to steal the red egg. By his thoughts, she was likely outside the tent at that very moment, listening to the conversation with rapt interest. She wasn't as clever as she might have thought herself to be. Really, Galbatorix should have known better.
"We need our magicians to be in the action, as a precaution," Brom noted. "And Harry has already organised Du Vrangr Gata along the western flank, remember. Arya will also be there, as will us three for security. That leaves Angela and one other, at most."
Outside, Saleera was practically drooling to herself in glee. One weakling magician and the fortune teller? Hah! This would be simple if all went to plan.
"How did you find her?" Saphira asked with interest, through a secured mental link.
"My supersensory charm caught a glimpse of her last night," Harry replied. "I didn't dare accost her unless there was more than one and they panicked, but I've swept the area and had Nyos do a scan himself. He can detect magicians better than anyone, remember. There are no others."
"You could sound a little smugger."
"So you do have a sense of humour? How apt. But I've been smug so infrequently of late. Surely you can give me this day off?"
Saphira snorted as she flew above the camp, a little away from the command tent. "One of these days someone is going to cut that silver tongue of yours out, and it'll look great to go with that eye of yours."
"Ouch."
Harry smirked. In truth, he had caught a lucky break, but who was to say they didn't deserve that? Things had been going the way of the Varden for a few days now. Routing the Urgals... rescuing Eragon's people... learning about the attack... it made a nice change having the odds stacked in their favour. It wouldn't last, of course, but he could at least enjoy it while it did. This was another stick to throw onto the fire, if not a particularly large one.
"Very well," Jörmundur said, consenting after a few moments of deliberation. He knew the plan as well, of course. This was all part of the act. "We have a few hours until night falls, so let's determine the best position for our bottleneck. Harry, I'll leave you to it."
Harry, adopting a more serious face, nodded and retrieved the egg from its hiding place in a locked chest at the back of the pavilion. He disabled the magical wards he had personally placed around the wood first, and then opened the lid carefully, so her hearing enhancements wouldn't alert her to what he was doing. Afterwards, he replaced it with what they had determined and stuck the egg quickly in his leather pouch, where it shrunk automatically.
Alerting the thief to the plan of bottlenecking the enemy was a risk, but it was important to let her believe she had the upper hand, or she might grow suspicious and decide the risk wasn't worth it anymore. They couldn't let that happen. They needed to capture her tonight for interrogation before she managed to escape. This was the only real chance they would have.
Those fools don't even realise I'm here, Saleera said. This can't be a trap, because no one has managed to see me yet, and my mental defences are lowered so no magician will discover what I am. In other words, I'm clearly on top at the moment. If this really was a ruse they wouldn't be planning a bottleneck, but I can see the troops forming positions and planting stakes from over here. They aren't just trying to throw me off.
Idiots. Well, I'll let them continue with their plans. If my men suddenly deviate, they might suspect a thief is in the vicinity, and I can't afford to have them think that. I need to take the opportunity to steal the dragon egg now. I know it's in there. I can almost feel the wards, they're so powerful. But I've been trained by His Grace himself. This should be easy, easier than I thought.
"I wonder if she'll change course now," Harry said. "Probably not, just in case she thinks we'll be suspicious."
"I hope you're right, Harry," Aru said in his deepening voice. "This is risky."
"Have faith in me, Arucane," Harry said. "If we capture her we'll have one of the king's personal servants in our custody."
"How do you know for certain?"
"He would never send a lesser magician on a mission like this," Harry said simply. "If this plan works, we'll be one step closer to proving Galbatorix's desperation to retrieve the egg. Unless he thinks there's more than one... no, scratch that. If the thief is sending back regular reports he knows by now that you've hatched. You're hardly inconspicuous."
"I'll take that as a compliment, being a son-of-the-sky."
"Do. I thought you would like it."
After purposefully dropping some false information about the size of their forces and the dwarven armies, Harry left the tent with perfect casualness. He wanted to meet Trianna and Murtagh for lunch, before checking on Du Vrangr Gata. His spell let him know instantly that the thief hadn't moved, but he would be cautious for a while, just in case. It had taken a while to master the supersensory charm, but what a useful piece of magic it had turned out to be. He almost didn't miss his eye anymore.
Saleera watched the surprisingly young leader of Du Vrangr Gata depart with interest. He couldn't be older than twenty, if even that. As a friend of the Rider, that most likely meant he would also be incredibly young for one of such prestige. The king had suspected the pair to be youthful, but even he wouldn't have foreseen this. They could hardly be more than children.
He's rather handsome, she simpered. It's a pity my liege wants him dead, but I live to serve. At least I know the egg is still in there. He couldn't be carrying it anywhere on his person, or I would see the outline even through any fabric. He certainly seems to know a lot, however. I wonder... could the smaller dragon belong to him? It's possible.
Deciding to stay present for the time being, Saleera readjusted her position slightly. She had been crouching beside a series of other tents, which had entrances on the opposite sides. That meant no one would angle around behind her by accident, and she was hidden from the view of the command tent. Cutting a couple of small holes in the material was more than enough to let her observe the goings on of Varden hierarchy without giving away her position. They really were a disappointment in that regard. Saleera had been hoping for a challenge.
That woman has no idea what she's gotten herself into, Harry thought, shaking his head as he headed for Murtagh and Trianna's table with a bowl of stew and cup of water. He nearly felt sorry for her on some level, before dispelling that notion as quickly as it arrived. She was the enemy, fact. Nothing else mattered.
"How many know of this?" Trianna asked quietly as he sat.
"Us three, Angela, Arya and the three commanders," Harry muttered, starting to eat. The stew was as simple as ever, but it felt good after a hard day of manoeuvring through the humid conditions of what was essentially the Hadarac outskirts.
"And the dragons?" Murtagh asked.
"Of course," Harry nodded. "Aside from that, nobody. We want to keep this as quiet as possible."
"Where do you want me?" Murtagh asked immediately, frowning in concentration.
Harry grimaced. "We've been over this already. You aren't fighting. If you get yourself killed... well, that would be stupid, wouldn't it?" he asked rhetorically.
"Damn it, Harry, I'm no use sitting on my ass all day!" Murtagh exclaimed. "I want to do something worthwhile, even if I can't fight!"
"Okay," Harry motioned, noting the glances they were now receiving. "I had an idea about that anyway. There's something I need you to do. We need our best fighters out there tonight, just in case, and there's no one I trust more anyway."
"What is it?" Murtagh asked, curious.
"Uh uh, not here," Harry said, shaking his head. "I'll tell you when we're somewhere private."
Murtagh blinked, before shrugging and leaving it at that. He knew the importance of maintaining discretion where brute force couldn't win the day. If he was needed for subterfuge or anything of the sort, he would take such a mission and be very happy for the allocation all the while. He knew rightly he was much too weak to fight, so if this was the best he could do... well, at least it was something.
"What about me?" Trianna asked pointedly. "I hope you don't want me back with the healers again. I'm a better fighter than most of those magicians."
"God knows I do," Harry muttered, "but I know you'd never consent anyway. And it's your decision. If you want to fight, then I can't exactly stop you. But you'll have to work with hardened warriors, so be prepared for some arrogance as the order of the day."
"I think I can manage that," she replied, smiling. "I spent a long time working with the twins before you appeared."
"Wasn't it only a couple of years?" Harry frowned.
"That felt like a long time with them," Trianna explained.
"Ah, fair enough."
"Why have those bastards not been clapped in irons?" Murtagh growled. "I've always been suspicious of them, especially after they insulted me without cause, but they didn't even fight at Farthen Dûr! And then Durza admitted they were spies!"
"They haven't been found," Harry said, shaking his head. "After the battle both of them managed to escape, probably with the remnants of the Urgal army. At the very least, we'll kill them if they ever show their faces again."
"I... I see," Murtagh said grudgingly. "Well, I'm just frustrated that they managed to elude capture. Can you remember our argument from before? I had just renounced my father and they tried to insult me about being a 'bastard'. I guess they were sore that I had betrayed the king."
"I remember," Harry deadpanned. "You almost came to blows."
"I nearly decapitated one of them," Murtagh corrected. "I should have. And how do you remember? Weren't you... err, sick that day?"
"Oh, are we still going with that story?" Trianna asked, rolling her eyes as Murtagh looked at her sheepishly. "I know he was looking after his house elf now. He told me that himself."
"Ah. Okay, then," Murtagh said, scratching his head in embarrassment. "My mistake."
"Don't worry," Harry laughed, "it's hardly impor-"
"Rider Harry!"
Harry looked up and sighed inwardly. Two of his magicians, Jara and Glind, stood there. Those two seemed to be doing their best replication of the twins in their animosity, as they had been a thorn in his side ever since he took command. Out of everything that came with leading Du Vrangr Gata, this was definitely his most hated part of the job.
"Yes, what is it, Jara?"
"What are you doing sitting here? We thought you had been ordered to prepare the defences!"
"What way is that to speak to your commander?" Murtagh demanded, glaring at the impudent man. "Show some respect!"
Harry held up a hand to stop him. "It's fine, Murtagh. Maybe you two aren't aware of this, but I sent orders through Tasha earlier, explicitly stating that all of you were required to rest up, get some food and recover your strength before any extreme physical exertion."
"I... I hadn't heard," Jara said, blinking rather foolishly. The man was prone to ignoring orders, but that didn't stop his complacency from spilling over on a near-constant basis. "Maybe if you were to give the orders yourself-"
"I give the orders through an intermediary for a reason!" Harry snapped, his patience running out fast. "Tasha already has an open channel with the lot of you, and I won't compromise that! Who do you think Galbatorix himself would go after in battle, me, or a random magician? If he were to break into my mind and discover I'm connected with you, he could wipe the entire company out without breaking a sweat! Is that really what you want?"
"I... no, of course not," Glind spluttered, "but why do you not-"
"I will organise separate squads to provide better security all-around as soon as we've completed our evacuation," Harry said firmly. "Until then, we can't afford any distractions, so Tasha takes charge of maintaining communication channels for now, while Trianna receives messages from the scouts both east and west of the convoy. There's a reason Tasha isn't fighting, you know. Your link won't be compromised. Besides, I'll kill any enemy magician that I find. Make no mistake."
Jara gulped, swallowing hard. Maybe he had underestimated this boy. "Very well, but... your orders... what is-"
"We don't fight on an empty stomach," Harry declared, standing up tall. Both older men paled slightly. He let the now-empty bowl clatter to the table to prove his point. "I want the entire ensemble of magicians to be well-fed and rested before battle. That goes for the two of you as well. But as it stands, most of them are already carrying out those orders. What are you doing, exactly?"
"We... we were-"
"Trying to undermine my authority so you could steal the position," Harry stated blankly. All eyes were now on the conversation at the centre of the room. "I'll let it go this once, but if you ever have the nerve to disobey orders and then try to supplant me at the same time again, I'll deal with you personally. I've never been a fan of physical punishment like flogging, but I know a lot of humiliating, menial jobs that would suit you down to the ground. And I mean that literally, because you'd be shovelling horse shit for weeks to come."
"We would never do that!" Jara protested. "We were simply..."
"Negligent?" Harry suggested, raising his eyebrows as Jara struggled to find the words. "That's just as bad, according to military authority. And if it is true, it goes to prove you're doing nothing but running around, playing grab-ass with everybody in Du Vrangr Gata. No, that doesn't mean anything perverted," he said, holding a hand up to silence their inbound protests. "It means that you're being a pair of cantankerous shits, and, quite frankly, I'm bored of it."
Jara and Glind were astounded. They couldn't believe the power this young man was displaying, if not necessarily magical. He clearly had the advantage here. All of their attempts to seize control... wasted. The twins had been in command, with Trianna having a brief run herself, but now this boy... he was something else entirely. They really had bitten off more than they could chew. Making their stifled apologies after a shared glance, the two quickly turned to leave, but Harry stopped them before they could depart. He had one more thing to say.
"Rest and then form a squad of fifteen magicians to integrate with Brom's troops at the centre. Each magician will be responsible for protecting the minds of ten people; no more, no less. I'll command the rest myself. Now, you have your orders directly. I suggest you follow them this time."
They left in a hurry then.
Barely a second after they disappeared from view, Murtagh burst into fits of pained-looked laughter. He doubled over with the effort, his head resting on the table and his fists clenched. Harry could have sworn he saw a tear or two.
"That was brilliant!" he gasped, almost breathless. "The looks on their faces! Oh, I thank you for this, my friend, for I needed that. I don't even know those two... but they seem like horrible bastards. That was amazing."
Despite himself, Harry managed a grin. "I don't want to ruin the effect, but... yep. Felt pretty good."
"Those two deserve everything they get," Trianna declared, laughing almost as hard as Murtagh, who was still at it. "I remember them from before you arrived; they hovered in the background constantly, trying to imitate the twins. Seeing them deal with manure would be refreshing."
"The smell wouldn't," Harry said, wrinkling his nose.
Trianna swatted his arm playfully. "Git."
Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You've picked that one up, then?"
"Maybe," she said, "but you'll have to teach me more. Your people have such an endearing variety of slang words, even if most of them are insults and swears."
"Be grateful I didn't come here speaking Cockney rhyming slang," Harry said, and he refused to give examples when they pressed him.
As it was still daylight, there was no danger of an attack commencing for several hours. Still, Harry was feeling rather on-edge. He couldn't shake the feeling that the whole thing was a trap of some sort. It was just too simplistic for Galbatorix. Had he really outthought the mad king, or was that what he was supposed to think? Was this female thief truly Galbatorix's wild card? Did he really have that much faith in her?
Harry couldn't answer these questions until tonight. What he could do was organise the magicians under his command, so he took to the task with renewed gusto, ensuring there would be no gaps within the ranks and no vulnerabilities. Anyone wounded in Farthen Dûr was staying out of the action entirely, their energy to be given to the healers specified for that role. Naturally, Harry wasn't happy with Trianna being in the front ranks, but there was nothing he could do about the situation. He wasn't sexist by any means. Hell, how could he be? He had seen firsthand the strength that people such as Hermione, Arya and Angela brought to the battlefield. The only problem was that it was Trianna, and he was worried for her safety. But he would have been worried for anyone he cared about, whether man or woman. Why did it make a difference which was which?
"Then again, isn't she naturally worried for your safety as well, my friend?" Aru asked, as he drew a whetstone along the blade of Aiedail. Lacking a wand meant he couldn't repair the damage with magic, not that there was much from Carvahall.
"Most likely," Harry said, pausing in the act to contemplate. "And it's probably terrible of me to say this, but I'd partly like that to be true. On the one hand I don't want her to worry, but on the other I like the feeling of being cared for that much by someone. I wish... I wish it wasn't necessary."
"So do we all."
Murtagh hurried to Angela's small carriage-tent hybrid, his arms laden with the bundle Harry had handed him in secret. It contained the red dragon egg, wrapped carefully in a variety of cloths and towels. He was to keep it safe, with help from Aru and Solembum, who wouldn't be fighting, and who Harry swore were more than a match for any thief, magician or not. It was still rather light security-wise, but Murtagh understood it probably wouldn't be required anyway. It was one of the last places most people would look.
"I forgot you could do that," Murtagh blinked, as he saw Solembum sitting in the form of a shaggy-haired boy.
Solembum didn't reply, but eyed him intently. He was here because he had an interest in being so and nothing else. Even the fortune teller knew not to try and give him orders, because it wouldn't go well for anyone.
"Err... I'll sit over here," Murtagh offered, pointing at his cot from yesterday. He had been given a tent of his own, but had yet to stay there. It had only been one day since he awoke, after all.
"Don't mind him," Aru said, once Murtagh let him in. "He doesn't talk much, except to me and Saphira. Even Angela might struggle to get a few words from him at a time."
"That's a relief," Murtagh said. "I thought he didn't like me or something."
Solembum blinked. "Who says I do?"
Murtagh gulped when Aru relayed his words. It was never a good thing to be on the bad side of a werecat, for whatever reason.
"Well, if I've offended you, I apologise," Murtagh said in his most courteous tone of voice.
"Who says I don't either?"
Murtagh sighed. This was going to be a long night.
Slightly further up the convoy, command found a useful place for Harry's trap to be set. The river curved away from the Varden just enough so that the civilians might pitch alongside the meander, and have the water both to their right and behind. This left a slight but noticeable gap along the western perimeter, which was partially covered by mounds of earth and dunes of sand several miles long, forming the closest thing to a beach Harry had seen since arriving in Alagaësia, even if it was missing the tide. There must have been a lakebed here thousands of years ago, until climate change formed the desert.
Harry knew the thief would relay their position to the company attacking them, so he ensured their efforts to pitch the civilian tents in the open were obvious, but not obvious enough to attract her undue suspicion. To put it simply, their trap would be set in a half-mile gap between two sets of dunes, where the land evened out to form a makeshift gateway. Any observer would think the civilians were being put here so that archers could shoot down upon any advancing army, but he deliberately left the number of archers short, so that the enemy wouldn't be afraid to attack. Then, when the travelling homes were in place, he used his supersensory charm to search for the thief.
He finally found her after an hour of searching. She was close to the centre, trying to act inconspicuous by collecting food and firewood. She must have realised constantly hanging around the commanders would only attract attention.
That was all the signal he needed. From there, the Varden got to work. The civilians were quickly moved to the riverbed, where they were required to lie in more crowded residencies for the time being. After that was completed, a good two hundred available pavilions were filled with several soldiers apiece, who were instructed not to leave until the signal was given that night, although several did occasionally strut around, dressed as civilians to maintain the ruse. Smiling ruefully, Harry then ordered the 'obvious' military setup, which was to have soldiers position themselves among the ranks. In short, it looked like half and half, but it was really entirely militaristic. What would appear to be several hundred measured well over one thousand.
He only hoped they wouldn't be attacked from two directions at once, because the bulk of the Varden's warriors were in on this act. When the thief returned to her previous position, the inevitable had already begun. Harry would have waited for this signal anyway. Nothing would have been put in place until she had left for a little while. Therein had laid the risk. Thankfully, she was human, and did need to keep up appearances, although she probably thought it was going to help her win the night. The best thing was, even if she saw the civilians being moved, she couldn't make any assumptions because they were moving constantly anyway. It was almost like a buzzing city.
When Saleera returned, she noticed that more soldiers had been posted alongside the western perimeter, beside the civilian resting areas. Those were full with women and children, she knew, which would make them a perfect place to attack. There were slightly less archers than usual posted along the 'watchtowers', which made her think of one thing only. They were trying to guile her forces into not attacking. It was obviously a false show of strength, designed to hope the enemy commander would think their true numbers were being hidden, and thus they shouldn't attack.
What nonsense. I know the Varden don't have enough warriors to protect all sides of this convoy. That's why they pitched close to the riverbed and why they're relying on deception. They even need to stay so tightly packed that civilian tents had to be erected near the dunes. That's either poor leadership, desperate... or a trap.
But it couldn't be a trap, could it? The Varden don't have the numbers to stage such an ambush. Those tents are filled with people who can't fight. I know that for a fact because the tents are aligned differently, according to requirements. Soldiers are given larger quarters to store their gear, so those hold only non-combatants. And just looking around I can see how many men have been mustered here. Command let a few numbers slip earlier, but they also said most of those warriors are scouting ahead for tomorrow, as they expect trouble reaching the end of the river.
In other words, the only military strength focused around this area is what I can see, but that number is no greater than three, maybe four hundred. The rest are either ahead, or spread among the camp in a sporadic manner. It should all add up in the end. At the very least, they could have stationed additional soldiers within each military-grade tent, but I doubt their footmen would agree to that with great spirits, so even if it's true that might work to our advantage. Torching the entire area should be effective. And this all means that the number of archers probably was their real figure, even if a handful here and there were hidden.
After thinking a while longer, Saleera found a quiet area to scry her stand-in captain.
"Tonight is the night," she said quietly. "Attack the flat terrain among the area I show you. The enemy outnumbers you, but with surprise on our side we should win. Be careful of archers among the dunes, although there shouldn't be too many. Move quickly and ruthlessly. This area is packed with civilians. I expect you to do what's necessary. Do not kill the blue dragon if she appears. That order comes directly from the king."
"Of course, my lady," he said, nodding. "We were selected for this mission because we are the king's most esteemed followers. We will do whatever he commands, and he gave you power over us. We are your servants."
Saleera sent the directions and ended the contact. She knew there would be enemy magicians among this crowd, in an attempt to deter. Those would be kept nice and busy, however, which was a good thing. Now she just needed to make sure her means of escape was covered. Once that was done, she could wait for nightfall, and then grab the egg as soon as the fighting started.
Maybe this is even easier than the king thought. The Varden truly must be a band of barbaric savages to bother with such trivial means of illusion. It was certainly going to be fun, robbing them of their hope for the war.
It was just a pity she couldn't kill the green Rider before escaping. She hadn't been able to find out where he slept. And she hadn't determined the identity of the blue dragon's Rider either. Either they were being kept hidden, or it was one of the two commanders. Either way, the king expressly forbade her to harm that one, so it mattered not.
I'm going to win this and make my king proud, she thought happily.
I've got you up against the ropes, and you don't even see it, Harry smirked to himself.
"I hope you're right about this," Brom muttered quietly, his voice right next to Harry's ear.
"For the last time: stop saying that!" Harry hissed, glowering at the old man. "You agreed to this and we can't back out now. Angela and Arya have their end covered, so now we only have to do our bit."
"If our bit doesn't get us killed," Jörmundur offered.
"These tents are completely safe."
"That's not what I meant!"
"Harry, they're approaching," Saphira relayed.
Harry shushed the tent he was currently crouched in, somewhere near the front right of their lure spot. This had to be timed perfectly.
"Arya, give me an update," Harry said.
"There is no sign of the thief just yet," Arya replied, "but I suspect she will not make her move until the fighting begins."
"Won't she run when she realises this was a trap?" Jörmundur asked.
"No. She knows this is her only chance because of the extra measures we would inevitably take to protect the egg after an attack," Harry said. "It doesn't make a difference to her how many people die on either side. All she wants is the egg itself."
Jörmundur went to say something else at that moment, but Harry held up a hand to stop him. The sound of trampling boots could be heard, growing louder with each second. The imperial soldiers were probably wary of being spotted by Saphira, but she knew not to let herself be seen until Harry gave the signal. With luck, this could be ended with minimal casualties to their own forces.
"They're approaching the dunes," Saphira said. "Archers are moving up the hills from their end, but our own haven't been spotted yet. I would estimate thirty seconds, little one."
"Tasha, twenty five seconds to mark," Harry relayed.
"Got it. Preparing signal," the female magician said.
"Five... four... three... two... mark!"
In that instant, the entire area was lit with dozens of flare-like spells and a massive bronze horn began to sound, reverberating through the camp like a lively drumbeat at a rock concert. Harry drew his sword and dashed from the tent, Brom and Jörmundur in his side. The Varden were streaming out now, and the imperials had begun to shoot down upon them. Giving a hand signal, Brom ordered the Varden to return fire, and the archers who had been pressed along the faces of the dunes took several steps back, their bows already drawn.
Harry didn't watch as they took aim and fired in tandem, impaling dozens of Galbatorix's fanatics all at once, but he heard the screams as men fell several metres onto the ground, and more than once an arrow or two came dangerously close to catching him in the face. He ran as the swordsmen poured from their hiding places. Groups became squads, and squads became companies. They charged forth, ramming into the front line of the enemy's ranks, taking them by surprise, just as Saphira appeared overhead. She rained fire upon the rear ranks, scorching the earth and making escape impossible. Harry was amazed by her newfound power.
From there, Harry directed the left flank as Jörmundur took the right and Nyos occupied the centre. The three of them spurred their men onwards, seeing that the Empire's morale was all but shattered already. They had barely set foot in the Varden's perimeter, and already they were trapped between hundreds of bloodthirsty men, outraged that their families were being attacked, and towers of billowing flames.
Harry cut left and right, his shield parrying as he sliced through armour like butter. Aiedail was stained red once again and everywhere in sight a mass of bodies and a cacophony of screams captured the night air. He even passed Jara and Glind at one stage, glancing as they fought to prove themselves, or so he hoped. But he had no time to wonder, for he was forced to defend again. Unlike Farthen Dûr, however, the Varden were not the ones outnumbered. To his pleasant surprise, Harry found himself backed by a dozen swordsmen, who drove through the solitary enemy that had attacked him all at once with feral snarls. Trianna was at his side, and his worries were vanquished by her flawless technique and drive to impress. She had clearly been trained well at some point.
When he encountered one magician of note, he smashed through the man's wards with a few flame spells and then dispatched him with a thrust to the heart. Afterwards, it was a simple matter of touching the minds of the magician's delegated soldiers and speaking one of the twelve words of death. He repeated this process twice more, killing both magicians single-handedly. One cowered at the end, but Harry could show no mercy and gave him a quick death with his sword. The other put up a better fight, but could not cope with the stress of feeling his wards collapse so suddenly. It was all too easy for Harry to smash through his mental barriers and utter the word he needed. Around him, a multitude of dead fell to the ground.
Nyos was also proving his worth once again, only now he felt slightly more resigned. Harry was the same, for these were people and not Urgals, but war was war. With a twist of his arm and a flick to the side, Nyos cut the arm off of the enemy captain, who fell to his knees screaming. A lunge through the man's skull was enough to silence him, but the flow of his blood was louder than anything, gushing as a mini-river in its own right.
Harry was almost surprised when he killed his final enemy that night. The man lost a head for his troubles, but he was one of the last to go. After that, only a handful remained. Harry gazed around as the remaining soldiers were put to the sword and spear, finding the situation pleasantly easy to bear. Unlike before, this had lasted less than ten minutes. He looked up, and saw that every archer stationed above had been dispatched, leaving absolutely no one on the enemy side remaining.
All in all, over two hundred men had been killed, but the Varden had lost only a fraction of that amount. His trap had worked immeasurably well. Better than he could have hoped.
"How many?" Brom asked. He had reappeared near the end, after the archers had finished their part.
Someone did a quick headcount. "Sixteen dead, thirty seven wounded."
"Sixteen?" Harry asked in disbelief, blood splattered over his face and armour. "How the hell did we get so lucky?"
"We didn't. We had you," Brom grinned.
Harry blinked, but chose not to answer that. He was only a small cog in a bigger machine. "The thief!" he realised.
"Present and accounted for," Angela declared happily, appearing, as per usual, from nowhere. "She tried to struggle, but Arya and I beat her down."
"I can see that," Harry said, taking in the woman's broken nose. She meant it literally. "Was that strictly necessary?"
"She didn't surrender until afterwards," Angela explained.
"Haha, how did you like our little gift?" Nyos grinned, appearing at Harry's side. The man towered over him, which really gave Harry a slight impression of Draco and Goyle. Except those two would have shit themselves after seeing the fighting tonight. And they couldn't have Nyos' sense of humour. The man had personally sculpted the wooden visage of Galbatorix being... shafted by a pike that she had found in place of the egg. Arya and Angela had let her open the chest before subduing her. Nyos had told them he wanted to see the memory for her reaction.
The thief, a young woman only a little older than Harry, glowered at them all. She was tall, lean and sported short black hair. Her looks had probably suffered on account of that broken nose, but she didn't seem to care.
"You'll pay for this outrage," she hissed, seeming to know Harry was directly responsible. He wasn't sure if she was referring to the battle, or the mural. Judging from her reverence of the king, it could have been either.
Harry smirked at her. "This is your own fault. If you're the best Galbatorix has to offer, he's either trying to play with us... or he really is becoming desperate."
"I'll show you," she promised, "I'll show you all."
"You couldn't best Angela and Arya," Harry pointed out. "If you think you can deal with the rest of us together, you're sadly mistaken. But, since you're so determined to know what went wrong, I'll tell you. We knew you were there the whole time. I saw you last night. The irony is that you could have prevented this massacre, but were unable to. If you had checked inside a handful of the tents, our ruse would have been up. But no, you played directly into our hands by going on the notion that we were too stupid to trap the likes of you."
"You... you used my pride against me," Saleera realised, feeling a little bit of grudging respect. "I will never make that mistake again, so I advise you to kill me now."
"Alright," Harry said casually, drawing his sword again. He held it at her throat, drawing a look of wide-eyed fear. Scoffing, Harry sheathed the weapon once more. "You see? You have no desire to die. Stop acting high and mighty when you know I won't kill you. Take her to the detention area," he told a handful of guards. "Make sure you watch her at all times, along with three other magicians, minimum."
The men saluted and left with their prisoner, who didn't bother struggling.
"We need to be careful with her," Brom said. "She's still an enemy magician, so I won't underestimate her strength."
Harry nodded, agreed with that. He turned to Arya with a hopeful gaze, and she gave an affirmative gesture.
"I'll watch over her," the elf promised. She twisted her fist over her sternum in a gesture of respect, which Harry returned, and left to follow the prisoner.
"She won't talk," Harry said. "And I won't resort to torture."
"I wouldn't expect you to," Brom said. "She won't be harmed, but we need to get information from her somehow. But that can wait until tomorrow."
"You did very well," Nyos complimented, his voice low. Around him, the warriors began to depart under orders, although a select few remained to clear away the dead.
Harry was pleased to note that none of his magicians had been killed, especially since one of them meant a great deal to him. She stood next to him and the two exchanged a smile. Nyos left after congratulating him once more, following Brom and Jörmundur back to the command centre for a debriefing.
"I'm proud of you," Trianna said honestly.
"Thank you," Harry said quietly. Then he admitted: "I didn't know you were so good with a sword."
"My father taught me before he died," she told him. "But that was a long time ago. Since then I've tried to practice as much as possible, even if I can't compare to someone like you or Brom."
"I think you could hold your own," Harry said honestly, "though it'll never come to that. But... let's be honest here. This wasn't my doing. It was because of the men we were able to win tonight, not to mention Saphira. You were amazing."
"I did it all for your undying praise," Saphira snorted.
Harry rolled his eyes. "You have it, in any case."
"True... but we can talk about it later," she said slyly.
Harry grinned. "Tasha, tell the others to take the rest of the night off. The healers can deal with the wounded. I want everybody as fit as possible for our march tomorrow. It'll be the last stretch of the river we deal with."
"Understood, sir," she replied. "And congratulations."
"Tell them not to congratulate me," Harry winced, realising that was the third or fourth time in five minutes. "They should congratulate themselves."
It was only later that Harry realised Brom had let him do all the talking with the prisoner, but the knowledge surprised him. Either he didn't want to bother doing it himself, or he was letting Harry show even more of his potential command attributes. He hoped it had been a good impression. If he had heard the men talking about his exploits that night, he would have laughed at his own understatement.
For his own part, Murtagh had watched the melee from Angela's tent through a small hole he had cut in the side. Solembum hadn't been happy about that, but Murtagh had simply ignored him. He yearned to be out there, fighting with his new brothers-in-arms, but unless he was to abandon his current mission, that wouldn't happen.
When he saw Harry lead the charge, he felt a surge of pride. His friend had really come a long way in the short period they had known each other. Thankfully, he had succeeded, and with a shockingly minimal number of casualties. That had easily been the most impressive part. The Varden had fought as one under his command, although Jörmundur and Nyos had also played a massive role in that regard. Then Brom arrived after finishing the archers off, and the four pushed the enemy into oblivion without even blinking. If anything, the king should definitely fear the Varden's leadership. They were formidable.
But what part do I play in this pantomime? Murtagh wondered. I certainly want to help kill the king, and then try to help ensure the politics of the land aren't lead astray afterwards. But I feel so... useless. These wounds will never fully heal, even if they aren't impeding on the whole. If only I could do more.
Murtagh sighed, before growling and shaking his head furiously. No! I won't consider myself helpless! I'm a better swordsman than most, even if I'm not as experienced! I can play a huge role in helping win this war, and I will!
"The king won't beat me!" Murtagh declared. "I'll see to it that his head decorates a spike if it's the last thing I do!"
Behind him, something cracked. Murtagh wheeled around, and saw the ruby egg shaking from side to side. A crack appeared near the top, before snaking all the way around, like reddened veins in a living being. Another joined it, and then another...
And Murtagh watched, frozen with shock.