The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 02 - The Gathering (7 page)

Underneath the
city, caverns and passages formed the main barracks for the army. Built with
extreme defenses, the corridors formed a path of retreat for the elves in case
the city's main gates were ever breached. He felt a rush of gratitude at
whatever ancient dwarf had designed the entrance. The false portal, backed by a
fifty foot column of stone, strengthened one of the weakest points of any city.
But if the real doors were discovered . . . they would be finished.

Braon paused
in his considerations and stifled a yawn. He felt lucky that he had so much to
work with, and grateful that the board game of Stratos had taught him so much
about strategic planning. Now he just had to figure out how to get the races to
unite—and listen to him.

He blinked at
his tiredness, wishing he could remain awake so he could plan some more. There
was so much to consider, but his endurance was not extensive, a fact he was
careful not to reveal to his companions. He felt a flash of irritation that he
didn't have more stamina, but recognized it as a weakness he would have to work
around. Shifting his bulk on the hard ground, he succumbed to his weariness.

Rising early,
they broke their fast with dried fruits and headed east for a few hundred yards.
This eastern edge of the plateau dropped straight to the Blue Lake. Braon squinted
at the water below and then turned to follow the road heading south. At fifty
feet wide, the Lake Road felt narrow as it followed a rapidly descending path between
the cliff and the lake. To the right, the sheer cliff stretched up to the
plateau above. To the left, the road dropped to the rocky shore of the lake. Barren,
the highway boasted a low wall along the lake side to prevent someone falling
to their death. After five miles they reached the forest floor, and turned onto
a trail that headed towards Azertorn. Picking up the pace, they arrived in the
afternoon and entered the city.

As the general
and the commander stepped back into Deiran’s office, the elf’s attitude had
changed. It seemed that Braon’s few intuitive questions had shifted Deiran's perception
of him.

Settling into
his office chair he poured himself a bottle of light ale and offered some to
Braon, who gladly accepted. After they both took a long pull to quench their
thirst, Deiran broke the silence. “So what’s your plan?”

Rubbing his
forefinger against his thumb, Braon considered the best approach to tell the
general. In many ways, this first hurtle would be his greatest to overcome. If
he could not convince the general, his effort would be over before it began.
Feeling the pressure, he asked, “Do you have a piece of parchment I can use?”

Deiran nodded
and reached for a scrap of paper and a charcoal pencil. Once Braon had what he
needed he began sketching the cliff while describing what he’d seen.

“The cliff,
city, and road are too large to defend easily, so our first challenge is
communication between the command and the soldiers. We also need to break the
area into sections, each with its own general and command structure.” Finishing
his rough drawing he spun it to show the general, who leaned in to examine it.
“West of Azertorn we have three areas: The Gray is the furthest west and will
run to the dry riverbed, its cliff is slightly gray instead of red so it will
be easy to remember; the dip and the area to either side we will call The Deep,
for obvious reasons; and the length of cliff between the low point and the city
will be Western Falls battalion.

“The city of
Azertorn is the fourth area. Just as the west, the eastern side will be divided
into three areas. Eastern Falls is the five miles between the city and that
large crack we passed. Between the crack and the Lake Road is The Ridge. On our
far eastern flank is the Lake Road, which will have a command post at the knoll
near where we camped.”

Deiran was
bobbing his head and leaned back to ask, “So, what's next? You have the areas,
now what do we do with them?”

 “We fortify
them. We need a wall built along the entire cliff, high enough so a man can
lean over and shoot an arrow, but no more than his waist. We already have the
high ground. We just keep our own forces from falling—or being pulled off.”

Deiran’s
expression turned dubious and he asked, "You really believe they can climb
the cliff?"

Braon blew out
his breath and shook his head. "I don't know, but I would rather be
prepared than not. Siarra numbered their army in the billions, so have no doubt
they will try. If they did and we were unprepared . . ."

“We would be
dead."

Braon nodded
and continued, “We can use cavalry to sweep them off the cliff if they find a
hole in the defenses. They will also provide the necessary reinforcements for
the front lines, and give the mounted divisions of the various races a useful
position.”

Deiran took another
sip of his drink and asked, “What else?”

Braon noticed
a spark of eagerness in the general’s eyes and smiled inwardly. He had him
hooked, and doubted there would be any more struggle for authority as long as
he continued to demonstrate strategic intelligence.

“There are
still three places that require special attention. The Lake Road is my greatest
concern. It is a highway to flank us and will be the easiest to attack. First
we will knock down the wall next to the lake to make the road more dangerous.
Then we need to build several walls along its length. Each needs to be thick,
strong, and high. The construction needs to begin immediately.”

Deiran was
nodding as he spoke and reached for another scrap of parchment to begin making
notes. Braon paused and waited while he scribbled the orders. When the general
finished and looked at him he added.

“The Lake Road,
The Deep, and Azertorn, are most likely to be attacked, and therefore must be
the most fortified. If possible, the Deep needs to have a wall built high
enough to reach the rest of the cliff. When the wall falls, and it will, we will
need to have pitch or tar prepared. I am hoping when the dwarves come they can use
their fire magic to prepare fire traps that will ignite the tar as it drains
down.”

Deiran was now
grinning as Braon spoke but didn’t stop writing.

“Last we have
Azertorn. We are truly lucky to have it constructed so well—but, if its gates
are breached, it will only be a matter of time. For that reason, we must do
everything possible to draw attention away from the gates. I believe they will
use a battering ram almost immediately, and continuously. At some point they
will damage the wood of the gates enough to see that stone is behind them and
they will look for secondary gates. When they find them—.”

“Don’t you
mean
if
they find them?” Deiran interrupted but Braon was already
shaking his head.

“If they
number so many
—,”
Braon couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of such
an enemy
, “—
as the Oracle stated, they
will
find the secret
entrance. Once they enter the city, the First Hall will be overrun in hours,
likewise the Second Hall, and the rest of the city will be destroyed soon
after. The Oracle told us the best we can hope to last is seven days, and if
darkness falls on the seventh day, it will be permanent. Because of this I
believe we must hold the gates at least until the end of the sixth day. If they
breach the city before then . . .” He let the implication hang until Deiran
nodded, his expression grim.

Deiran then sighed
and looked away. “Do we have a chance?” For the first time since he’d called Braon
commander, the general spoke with respect.

Relief washed
over him as Braon realized he'd passed his first hurdle. “I believe we do, general,
or at least I hope we do—and we will certainly do everything possible to
succeed. I, for one, am not going to lie to down and be killed.”

Deiran snorted
and stood. “And neither shall I! I will get these orders sent out immediately.”

 “Excellent.
As soon as you are done, I need to learn more about the city and make plans for
the arrival of allies. I believe the refugees from the eastern kingdom will
arrive first since we already know they are on the way. Send word to the elven
settlements to direct them here so we can begin their integration into our defenses.”

Deiran nodded
and escorted him out of the office. Leaving him speaking to one of his
captains, Braon slipped out of the command center and headed back to the House
of Runya.

They had a
long road ahead but at least he’d seen what they had to defend, and more
importantly, he had a plan. Then an idea popped into his head and he turned
towards the palace. He was going to need the queen’s help for it to work, and
it would be best to put that part into motion first.

Braon’s pace
quickened as more and more thoughts came into mind of things that needed
immediate attention. Sighing, he worked to list them in order of priority and
forced himself to slow his gait. As he began fleshing out his strategies with
the critical details, he checked for gaps or holes that would bring them down.
With the magnitude of this battle, the slightest opening could make the
difference, and it was up to him to ensure there were no holes.

A single
oversight would kill them all.

Chapter
6: Battle Plans

Braon sighed.
This was going to much harder than he’d imagined. Refugees from the eastern
kingdom had begun to arrive and the few leaders he’d met were . . . resistant
to follow his lead. The last group had thanked the elves for their hospitality
but said they had no plans as of yet, and had pointedly ignored Braon.

Sighing again
he watched them turn and leave, taking solace in the fact that some of his
plans were moving forward. The most important recommendation he’d put forward had
already begun, although the refugees from Griffin had no idea that he was
behind it. He’d asked the queen of the elves and Liri’s mother, Lariel
Tel’Runya, to supervise a critical portion of his battle plan, the women and
children.

Initially, he
needed the women and children settled into a secure location in the tunnels
behind the city. As soon as they were placed in their temporary home they would
begin their work. Fashioning leather armor, making arrows, and preparing food
were going to be their primary objectives.

Watching the
last of the refugees being led away by the queen’s men, he growled to himself.
He’d been composed and collected, exactly the way he wanted to be, but it was
proving . . . difficult to persuade stubborn men to follow a kid. What he
needed was a second in command, someone strong and a natural leader. The second
would need to be charismatic and possess the ability to draw men of every race
to him. If he had such a second, all the races of Lumineia would look to him,
while he was guided by Braon.

He smiled at
the wishful thought and pushed it aside. If Ero provided a second, then he
would take it. Until then . . . he would have to deal with the problems on his
own. Turning away, he threaded his way back through the city until he came to
an ornate structure one level below the palace, the magic guild for the elves.

Stepping
inside he politely asked to see Telerial Sur’Maegrian, archmage of the guild of
magic. The elf guard left to summon the archmage, but Braon found a seat.
During the war council where he’d been named commander, Telerial had
demonstrated remarkable pride, and not the good kind. He would consider himself
above Braon and would make him wait for an audience.

The young man
took the time to consider his checklist. He’d organized the women, an enormous
task and yet one of the easiest. The queen would perform admirably, and with
Liri's mother by her side, they would handle that part without needing Braon
for assistance. Relegating that to a position of his mind that would remind him
to check on them, he looked at the next item.

Communication
between his troops and his command center would be the greatest difficulty. In
his mind it comprised two components, seeing the battle, or messages
from
the front lines, and directing the battle, or giving instructions
to
his
field officers. Because of the breadth of what they were going to defend, he
could not imagine doing either without magic, which is where the archmage came
in. Hopefully he would have some suggestions on how to tackle the problem. If
worse came to worst, he could always use flags to communicate with his
officers, but it would be time consuming and prone to error. He needed to be
able to react instantly to any surge in the battle, or he might hear of a breach
when it had become a flood.

He chuckled to
himself, eliciting a sharp glance from a guard. Stifling his humor, he realized
that a part of him enjoyed the challenge before him. He’d always liked
strategy, ever since he'd used it to avoid being caught and bloodied by the
other boys. He’d never been outthought by them, and he’d never lost a single
game of Stratos. Most of his ideas came from listening to captains complain
about problems in the field during a match, and whenever he’d played his
favorite game, he’d thought of them as a real army. Now he had his chance.
Let’s
not choose this time to lose
, he thought.

There were a
few minor problems to be solved as well. He had to choose a location that would
be his headquarters, and begin selecting his war command of generals. The
second problem, he believed, would solve itself. As races came, leaders would
present themselves, and he would know them when he saw them. He needed seven
primary generals to command the seven locations. Deiran, as the highest ranking
officer of the city, would naturally lead the city’s forces. He knew his
fortress well and he already trusted Braon. That left six, and if possible, his
second in command.