Blade of Erogrund

Chapter 39- Hushed Words

 By the following afternoon the war camp was erected in its entirety. Curving rows of small white tents laced through the dense trees, housing the four-thousand men and women who had ventured to the Grove of Melkin. Among them were the four tall command tents that billowed open to the bustling of preparation that filled the camp. Inside captains, commanders, and Lords gave and received orders until the blanket of pine needles and leaves that had clad the forest floor was scraped away by dashing feet.

Busiest by far was the largest of the command tents where Ennor and his council pondered the plans for battle. 

At its center a vast circular table had been set onto which an immensely detailed map of Niron was pinned with knives at each corner. The same metal figures that had graced the Council Chamber in Biren Larath sat now upon the surface of the map as Ennor and his fellows debated the nature of the battle. 

Ideas were more numerous than the soldiers they concerned, some suggesting a frontal assault others a flank against either face of the cliffs. One captain Godric did not recognize even suggested they cleave lumber from the Grove to build a fleet for sailing to the rear of the cliffs. All the time messengers ran here and there to pass scrolls, maps, and orders to any number of the assembled generals. So intent were the Lords that no break was offered for a midday meal or even supper; the meals were instead brought on wooden trays and served with all haste to minimize delay. 

Hours passed quickly under the words of the generals. Godric did not mind. To hear the thoughts of such men was more than a noble pastime to him. He had nothing to add to the conversations, but it was no matter. Standing on the edge of the curtained room listening was enough for him. Every now and again a Lord would glance at him intently when describe an element that utilized Erogrund, but he was otherwise largely ignored. 

Sometime in the later hours of the night when the smell of candle smoke had grown thick in the dark of the tent it seemed that they finally had established a plan. Ennor hushed the dozen or so other men that crowded the table and waved Godric forward. 

"Make way, gentleman. It is just as necessary for the boy to know this as each of us." 

Ennor tapped a scratching of ink on the map where many graven images of soldiers and horsemen sat stoically. "Here lies Melkin." With his other hand he tapped a lackluster black mountain enshrined in cloud. "Here lies Draeknol. A mile and a quarter separates them." His eyes glanced to the other generals who nodded their agreement.  

"We have decided the greatest attempt against the fortress will be two-fold: the first by the cavalry," he moved a figure of a mounted knight onto the map, "and the second by the footmen." Two soldier sculptures were moved beside the knight. "First the cavalry - headed by you, Saracyir, and myself - will ride to the mouth of the caves. No doubt the dragons shall see us and come upon us swiftly but it is of the greatest importance that we hold our line." 

"That is," Vyron added, "until the footmen draw in under Thain." 

"Correct," Ennor confirmed. "A strong half mile will separate us but once they fall on the serpents we will have a solid chance. All the time you must try with all your might to slay as many as you can." The king's dark eyes looked piercingly at Godric who fought the urge to look away. "We will do all we can to protect you, but it will be upon your sword that we stand until the troops fall in with us." 

"And if the dragons fly above us?" Godric asked, anxious to redirect the gaze of the Lords. "Would it not be wiser for them to surpass us and land among the soldiers?" 

"Aye," Thain grunted. "Until they taste the sting of our thousand bows, that is." 

"The first thousand troops are carrying bows in their divisions," Ennor explained. "Should the dragons attempt to land among them a volley of a thousand steel tips will hopefully strike them back."