Conflict of Empires (2010) (69 page)

Warriors dropped like stones, screaming in pain as the arrows struck them. But the arrow storm unleashed the fury of men who suddenly realized they’d been lured into a trap. In the torchlight they could clearly see that every house and stall in the lane was boarded up, giving them no place to go but into the arrows ahead of them.

Bantor drew his sword. The leader of the bowmen continued to call the cadence and another flight of arrows, aimed low, struck at the invaders. Those barbarians still standing rushed forward, screaming their war cries as they charged at the forty men in front of them. Other Alur Meriki reinforcements continued to climb over the wall, eager to join the fighting and as yet unaware of what was happening.

Bantor’s third wave of shafts included shafts from other archers on the rooftops, as bowmen climbed into position and added their own arrows to the carnage below them. The barbarians had only to cover about thirty paces to come to grips with their opponents, but the shafts flew again, and this time the charge broke.

The warriors had brought few bows of their own, certain that swords would be the most useful weapon once inside the walls. Instead they found
themselves attacked by bowmen under the blaze of torches that lit the scene all too clearly.

Some tried to tear down the boards that blocked entry to the houses but the archers on the opposite roof turned their arrows on them. Others tried to move along the parapet, but the heavy wooden barricades, positioned to extend out over the parapet’s edge, blocked that path, too. Behind those barricades stood villagers and soldiers with spears, who thrust at every head or hand that tried to climb over or swing around them. A few Alur Meriki managed to leap up and grasp two of the torches and dash them out, but it made no difference. Even two or three torches would have provided enough light for the archers.

Suddenly, the Alur Meriki began moving back, jamming the steps or pulling themselves up to the parapet, with no other thought in their minds but to get back over the wall. The archers’ shafts continued to find them. Bantor shouted another order and the bowmen moved slowly forward, shooting together under command, shooting again and again until they reached the base of the parapet. By then nothing moved, not even the wounded at their feet, who died from a quick spear thrust. Shouting continued from the walls, as archers kept shooting at the surviving barbarians as they fled back across the ditch.

Bantor bellowed out a command to secure the wall, and soldiers began clearing the dead off the steps and parapet. Trella knew the fight here had finished. She turned to find Annok-sur at her side, a short sword gleaming in the torchlight.

A cheer went up from the men, the volume increasing until everyone had joined in, shouts of victory mixed with laughter at the barbarians, who had carefully planned their assault yet still stumbled into a deadly trap. Trella found herself surrounded by gleeful soldiers and villagers, as she turned away from the carnage and headed back to the Compound.

“That should send them running back to their clan,” Annok-sur said. “It looks like we’ve killed more than half of them, I’m sure.”

“The cavalry from Bisitun will hunt down any stragglers in the morning,” Trella agreed. “I think those who escape will have little inclination to raid our lands.”

“You planned this as well as Eskkar.”

“Let’s hope he has as much good fortune in the south. Send word in the morning. It will be one less worry for Eskkar.”

“And what should I do with Luroc?”

“Pay him and let him go,” Trella said. “He’s not likely to trouble us again. Besides, once word of this gets out, the Sumerians will think he betrayed them.”

Annok-sur put her arm around Trella’s shoulders. “Let’s hope the Sumerians fare as badly against your husband as these barbarians.”

Trella’s satisfaction at the victory lessened at the thought of her husband’s danger. “Tell Yavtar’s men to get word to Eskkar as soon as possible. The last thing he needs is to be worrying about Akkad.”

Day 2

T
he soldiers plodded through the heat. Every strap rubbed the skin raw, and many men had taken off their sandals, to insure that they didn’t wear out and to save them for combat. The sun grew hotter as they moved south, especially to men unaccustomed to it. The Sumerians had that advantage. Most of them were born and raised in the dry lands, and could withstand the sun and wind better than the men from the north. The soldiers wiped the sweat from their eyes and kept walking, though at every stop to rest men drank as much water as they could hold. Fortunately they splashed across several of the numerous streams that eventually found their way into the great sea.

The Sumerians kept horsemen at their rear and flanks, but only small bands, to keep track of where the Akkadians marched. So far, the enemy hadn’t tried to launch any attacks. Just before midday, while the men were resting, one of the guards called out.

“Riders to the rear!”

Eskkar swung up on his mount to get a better look. In moments, the land behind him began to fill with horses. The large band of Sumerian cavalry that had followed them yesterday was coming closer, but not, as Eskkar realized, coming straight at them. They would pass the Akkadians on their left. These men were not Tanukhs, but they rode easy in their mounts, and Eskkar had to admire their training. These horsemen might be the pick of Sumeria’s horse fighters.

“They’re passing us.” Grond shaded his eyes with his hand. “Probably headed to Larsa.”

As the enemy came abreast of the Akkadians, Gatus gave the order that got the men back on their feet and into marching position. “Stop gawking at that scum! You’d think you never saw a horse before!”

Enemy horsemen or not, Gatus got the men moving. He wanted to make camp tonight where they planned, and he was determined that his spearmen would lead the way, even if they collapsed when they reached the destination.

“They’re going to Larsa, all right,” Eskkar said. “They’ll be waiting for us when we get there.”

Gatus came over to join them. “Think they’ll try anything?”

“Not this bunch,” Eskkar said. “I’ll bet that Razrek is leading them. He’ll be glad to take some comfort in Larsa for a few days.”

“Then the people of Larsa may be happy to see us when we arrive,” Gatus said, not entirely in jest. “Razrek with that many men accompanying him will be a demanding guest.”

Eskkar grunted in agreement. A large force of men and horses might not be too welcome in Larsa. They would eat and drink and chase the city’s women, and if all the tales told about Razrek were true, his men would pay not a copper coin to the city’s inhabitants.

Before long, the riders disappeared in the distance. “Well, tomorrow we’ll see the rest of the cavalry,” Eskkar said. “We’ll have some fighting before tomorrow’s march ends.”

“Good.” Gatus didn’t sound concerned. “The men need to be blooded anyway, so the sooner the better. The more fighting they do, the better they’ll get at it.” He pulled himself up onto the mare and cantered to the front of the column, where he shouted orders for the men to pick up the pace.

“Bloodthirsty old bastard,” Grond commented.

“That he is,” Eskkar said, laughing. “But more than that, he wants to see his training in action. For that, he’s willing to ride an old mare, wear a foolish hat, and sleep on the ground. And that’s why he refused to stay in Akkad, where he belongs.”

“Well, let’s hope that it isn’t us who get bloodied.” As Grond made the wish, he spat on the ground for good luck.

The forced march continued, with the men stretching their legs in earnest. They had a long way to go, but Gatus and his men didn’t
disappoint during the long day. They made their distance, reaching the tiny stream just a little before sunset. That gave the men time to gather some firewood, and start a few fires burning. The more ambitious men had collected some sheep and cattle during the day’s march, and soon the smell of burning flesh floated in the air.

The Akkadians had taken everything useful from the few farms they passed, stripping the land of anything edible. If they could have ranged out, they could have taken more, but the enemy horsemen shadowing their march were waiting for just that occurrence. Eskkar knew he had to keep his force close together. If they spread out, the Sumerian cavalry would cut them to shreds.

No doubt Razrek’s horsemen were doing an even more efficient looting of the countryside. They’d grown so used to terrorizing those living within Akkad’s borders that they had no qualms about looting Sumeria’s own people.

Most of the farmers in their path had fled at word of the Akkadians’ approach, but a few animals were still to be found, and they provided a bit of fresh food to stretch the now stale bread that filled a man’s stomach but didn’t satisfy hunger. A handful of red-faced men had discovered a skin of wine hidden somewhere along the march and drained its contents in moments, before the rest of their companions even knew what they’d found.

The food sacks contained less weight by now, and would be even lighter after the men washed down their evening bread with water. Most would rip the loaf in half and soak the stale bread in the stream to make it easier to chew.

Everyone settled in for the night, groaning in relief at the opportunity to stretch out and give their tired legs a rest. Behind them, the Sumerian cavalry’s camp fires glowed in the distance, and Eskkar saw that the number of horsemen pursuing them had increased. Trella’s estimates of Sumer’s horse fighters had ranged between thirty-five hundred and four thousand, and except for those who had ridden on to Larsa, Eskkar guessed that the remainder were camping little more than a mile from his own campsite.

Gatus posted even more guards tonight than yesterday. Eskkar and the rest of the commanders were waiting for him when he returned.

“The sentries are out and alert,” Gatus said as he squatted down beside the fire, stretching his back with a sigh of satisfaction. “I warned
them to be especially alert for any Sumerians sneaking up on them in the night, either to slit their throats or launch a few arrows at us from the darkness.”

“Two can play at that game,” Eskkar said. “I’ve asked Chinua and Shappa to join the commanders from now on. We’re going to need their skills for the next few days.”

Shappa, still short of his sixteenth birthday, seemed in awe of the men gathered around Eskkar. The slingers Shappa had helped train were attached in groups to sections of the archers and spearmen, so until now no single leader to speak for all of them had been needed.

Eskkar, however, had wanted some men to act as pickets and skirmishers, men or boys short in stature and quick on their feet. Shappa had picked out twenty such men during the long months of training, and he kept command of that group. They had trained to creep out into the darkness, gathering knowledge of the enemy’s position, killing any enemy sentries they could, and protecting the Akkadian camp.

During the training, many of the older soldiers had laughed at the need for such men, but Eskkar ignored them. He’d slipped up on enough sleeping enemy encampments to know what could happen, and he didn’t intend to take such a risk with his own camp.

“Shappa, I want your slingers out there beyond the sentries. It’s likely the enemy will be sending bowmen against us during the night, trying to pick off our guards or just trying to shoot a few arrows into the camp. We need to kill or drive them off. Otherwise, we’ll be dodging arrows all night while the men are trying to sleep.”

“Yes, Lord Eskkar.” Shappa’s voice cracked at the words, and the rest of the group smiled.

Most of Shappa’s slingers were short and slim, and their weapon made almost no noise when it launched a stone. A bow’s sharp outline could often be seen against the night sky, and its twang heard. For this sort of action, the skirmishers had practiced using another way to cast a stone, whirling the missile around their heads. It wasn’t as accurate a way to launch a missile, but it could be done while hugging the ground, and at close range was almost as effective.

“Collect your men,” Eskkar went on, “and get them ready. I want them out in the darkness tonight.” He turned to Chinua. “I know the Ur Nammu can move silently in the darkness. Do you think a few of your men could reach the enemy camp?”

Mindful of the warriors’ pride, Eskkar had taken pains not to give them a direct order. Better to tell them what was needed, and let them offer to help.

Chinua had said little to anyone during the last few days, and the rest of the Akkadians had left him and his warriors alone.

“I can take three or four men out into the night,” he said, speaking slowly, to make sure everyone understood him. “We can hunt those the enemy will send against you.”

“That would be good. Perhaps you and your men might even get close enough to loose a few shafts at their herds. A stampede would slow them down.”

The warrior took his time before answering, and Eskkar had almost decided to drop the matter when Chinua spoke.

“I will speak to my warriors. After we have killed anyone approaching us, the way should be clear to reach their camp.”