Zathria walked along at the front of the army: an impressive array of equipment and soldiers as Vyx'aria fell into step beside her. She could feel the tension in her friend's stride. It wasn't the tension that set in before a battle, but the tension that came with the precarious position that the Gener - no, the
queen - now found herself in.
"With any luck." Zathria didn't count on luck. Luck seemed to have abandoned them as of late just as much as their goddess. But they didn't need Zathria's pessimism right now. She knew how she was - cynical and pessimistic at the best of times - and she knew when thoughts like that were better kept in mind rather than voiced. But planning for those worst of scenarios was what made her a successful military commander.
Taking whatever we can alive will be more beneficial, she nodded in agreement. They wanted assets, not just dead bodies, and that had been made abundantly clear to Zathria. Wars were won and lost in assets and supplies as much as on the front lines.
The marching of soldiers and rolling of wheels behind them echoed down the corridor, and Zathria began to review their assets once again.
One battalion of drow soldiers. Six hundred and sixty soldiers strong, comprised of four
companies. This would be the most valuable portion of the army by far. It was the backbone of the army: a mix of male and female drow trained in warfare. A mix of swords, javelins, bows, poisoned handbows, and shields offered a diverse array of weapons and tools for the battle.
Two companies of slaves. At three hundred and thirty strong, these slaves were the force that would perform the least savory actions. Borderline suicidal tasks in combat such as placing siege bridges, manning battering rams, and placing siege ladders were often left to these "soldiers." Although overtly stating that these tasks were borderline suicide was, of course, never uttered, all the officers certain knew it. Hope for freedom or success kept them in line. Hope and numbing fear of the slow death that awaited those who even
thought of rebelling.
A platoon of dedicated mages. Although magic was common among many of the soldiers, those who practiced magic in a dedicated fashion as battlemages were still a relatively scarce commodity. Nevertheless, Zathria had absolutely no doubt that the forty dedicated mages in the platoon would have a critical impact on the outcome of the battle. No doubt some of the less fortunate slaves would "vanish" during the battle to feed the spells summoned by the terrifying magic wielders.
And a siege company. The last one hundred and sixty-five soldiers were devoted to manning the siege equipment that had rolled out of Zar'Ahal: twenty ballistae, four siege towers, two battering rams, four heavy bridges, a dozen light bridges, a dozen siege ladders, eight catapults, and eight enslaved
trolls.
Will a squad of mages, a company of soldiers, and two platoons of slaves suffice for the eastern tunnel? Zathria suggested after Xunari volunteered to take the eastern route. Eleven mages, one hundred and sixty-five soldiers, and eighty slaves should theoretically be enough to hold the eastern tunnels while the main gates were assaulted. Of course, there were no guarantees in war.
Zathria nodded to the queen's final words.
They'll retract or dump the bridges. We'll need to bring down, burn down, or ransack the guard towers first, she said. She knew that the alarm would go up regardless of what they did, but the army couldn't pass under arrows and attack from the flank and behind while trying to march on the walls.
The lava moat was what worried Zathria most. She would have preferred to have four times as many light and heavy bridges to make it to the city walls, but that just hadn't been feasible in their timeframe. They would have to make due and hope that the bridges weren't destroyed in the course of the attack. That was, unless they could find a way to salvage the bridges that the duergar were likely to try to retract or destroy.
The hunt was afoot, and Zathria could feel her heart begin to quicken. The cold spikes of adrenaline began to suffuse her arms and legs and she remembered once more that in many ways, this was where she felt most at home. She ran one more check over her gear.
Armor, bow, swords, knives, she thought as she eased the bow from her back. All was right where it should be.
Everything was as it should be.
