Two nights later and three hours after sunset, Esk kar led a hundred men through the river gate. It took half the night to ferry them and their equipment across the river. By dawn the soldiers had marched well inland, out of sight of any watchers.
They traveled slowly. Each man carried seventy pounds of equipment: a wooden shield, a bow, two quivers of arrows, plus a sword, food, and water. Gatus informed Esk kar that men on foot could carry no more than sixty pounds at a steady pace. So the fi rst day’s march would be the hardest. The weight would decrease each day.
Esk kar walked with the men. He’d brought only four horses for the scouts, plus two donkeys to carry food and water. They didn’t expect to be gone more than a week; if they were, they’d have to live off the land. On this side of the Tigris, nothing had been put to the torch, and herds of goats and sheep still grazed in the hills.
Gatus insisted on coming. He’d trained the soldiers to fight together and wanted to see his work put into practice. Sisuthros stayed behind to oversee Orak’s defenses. The following night, Jalen would cross with Mesilim and the Ur Nammu, then guide them to Esk kar’s soldiers at the appointed place.
During the march Esk kar thought about his talks with Mesilim and Subutai. The day after the Ur Nammu’s arrival, Esk kar and his commanders had taken Mesilim and his son around the walls. Esk kar went over his battle plan, putting Mesilim in the role of the Alur Meriki war chief. Back and forth they’d ridden, looking at the wall from every angle, searching for weaknesses.
Afterward he took Mesilim inside and showed him the great stores of arms and the preparations for defense. Mesilim’s eyes widened in surprise at the vast quantity of arrows and stones. In the end, he found no flaw in Esk kar’s defenses. “But you must not let them over the wall. Once inside, they will overwhelm your men.”
Esk kar and Gatus had looked at each other in satisfaction. They’d drilled that same message into the men since the fi rst day. The barbarians must be stopped beneath the wall.
Time was running out, for both Esk kar and the Alur Meriki. The great battle would be fought soon enough, and he needed to protect his back by destroying the barbarians sent against them from the west. The men, cattle, and supplies sent across the river must not be lost, or Orak would starve even if its people drove off the attackers.
Esk kar wanted to take more men with him, confident that he could return before the Alur Meriki arrived. But the looks of panic among the families convinced him not to take too many soldiers away from Orak at this late stage.
Mesilim and his men would depart the following night, to give them an extra day’s rest. In the four days since they arrived at Orak, they’d had plenty of food and sleep, and restored much of their strength. Mounted on refreshed horses, they’d easily catch up with Esk kar and his slow — moving soldiers.
Counting Mesilim, thirty — seven warriors and two boys remained. One warrior had been judged too weak to ride and left behind. He’d been told to guard the women and children staying in Orak.
Esk kar pushed the pace as hard as he could for two days, walking beside the men and carrying his own equipment. He could have ridden, but the horses were better used by the scouts, and this let him stay close to the men.
They’d just made camp at the end of the second day when Mesilim and his men rode up. Esk kar studied them as they arrived. Four days’ rest showed in their faces. The new clothing each man wore replaced their old garments. Many of their weapons were gifts from Orak.
Every lance carried a yellow strip of cloth, another gift from Trella, and each bow dangled a smaller yellow ribbon. Each warrior wore a yellow sash around his waist. The colors were more than simple decoration-in a close — up battle they helped identify friend from foe, something needed even more by his soldiers.
The Ur Nammu’s mounts looked stronger as well, and those that hadn’t fully recovered were replaced by the last of Orak’s horses. Mesilim’s warriors looked confi dent and strong, a far cry from what they had been only days before.
Mesilim swung down from his horse and saluted Esk kar, while Subutai led the riders to their campsite, a few hundred paces away from Esk kar’s.
His men had little enough experience with barbarians, without getting into some argument or fight with the Ur Nammu over an unexpected or careless insult. Better to keep them apart until the time for battle, when no man would turn down an ally. Neither leader wanted any incidents.
“Your men look fi t, Mesilim,” Esk kar extended his hand in the sign of friendship. On the war trail, formality disappeared. “Any trouble following our path?”
“No. We rested the horses often, else we would have caught up with you hours ago.”
After everyone had eaten, the two leaders stayed by the fire and discussed what the next few days would bring. Much would depend on the ambush site itself, and they wouldn’t know about that until tomorrow. After Mesilim left, Esk kar spread his blanket on the hard ground and fell asleep in moments.
In the morning, Esk kar mounted a horse for the first time. With Jalen and Gatus, he joined Mesilim and Subutai, riding ahead of the men until they reached the site chosen for the ambush, a few miles away from the river and well into the rough hill country. Clumps of pale — green grass still showed on the land, though the hills would turn brown soon enough from the merciless sun.
The small valley chosen for the ambush ran roughly north — south and was surrounded by steeper hills. At the southern entrance some farmers had built a half — dozen mud houses, penned some sheep, goats, and chickens, and tried to farm the land. But as Jalen reported, they were too few for such a task, less than a dozen men, and none used to living by their swords.
They’d have made easy victims for the first band of rogues who came by.
They should have welcomed Esk kar and his men, but they acted sullen and angry at having their land taken over, even temporarily. They calmed down when Esk kar told them a large barbarian force was heading their way, and would undoubtedly slit their throats.
The settlers included several women. Esk kar wanted no women hanging around his men. Women led to rape and fights. He gave the settlers a dozen silver coins to pay for the loss of their houses and corrals and ordered them to head south immediately. When they complained, he offered to take back the coins and turn them into slaves if they preferred. That got them moving, loading their possessions onto three carts and shepherding their flocks before them.
The narrow valley ran fairly straight, rising slightly from south to north.
At the south end, where the settlers established their homes, the opening was ninety paces wide. Once past the entrance, the vale widened quickly to more than twice that. The far end lay more than a mile distant, and that entrance spread about two hundred and twenty paces across. About five hundred paces before the north opening, however, the cliff walls closed in, narrowing the valley at that point to approximately one hundred and twenty paces.
Esk kar approved of the valley walls. Steep and rocky, they offered few places where a horse and rider might, with great care, scramble to the top.
Inside the basin the land was open and flat with no places for concealment or defense. Nevertheless, neither Esk kar nor Mesilim looked satisfied with the location.
Jalen saw the frowns. “Captain, this was the best location I could find.
You wanted something close to the river where they could be closed in.
And it’s nearly on the line of march to Orak.”
“I’m sure it’s the best we could find,” Esk kar said. “But it’s going to be difficult to spring a trap here. We’ll have to split the men, and that means the Alur Meriki will outnumber each half. And the length of the valley means a long run for the men to close up.”
“The canyon is wide here,” Mesilim added. “Our lines will be thin and our enemy can concentrate their forces at any point.” He turned to Eskkar. “Remember, you say we need to kill them all, not just defeat them. If they see the size of our force, they’ll simply turn away and ride south by another route.”
Jalen looked doubtful. “Without a fight?”
“They won’t fight unless they expect to win. They see no dishonor in running away, or shooting arrows at us from a distance for hours or even days.” Esk kar shook his head. “We’ll have to think of something, first to lure them in and then to stop their escaping.”
The group of commanders rode slowly to the north end and inspected the ground there. The entrance proved as wide as Esk kar had feared, though the walls did pinch in before the opening. Esk kar decided he had no choice. This place would have to do. The Alur Meriki might be here any day and he didn’t have time to search for someplace better.
Esk kar, Gatus, Jalen, Mesilim, and Subutai rode back to the center of the valley, close to the east side, dismounted and sat on the ground in a circle. For two hours the fi ve of them went over their options, taking into consideration the capabilities of the bowmen, the Ur Nammu warriors, the ground, and what they thought the enemy would do. Once they had made their decisions, they spent even longer improving the plan, until each knew where and how they would fight.
While this went on, soldiers and tribesmen rested and watched while their leaders scratched lines in the dirt and argued over their fates.
When the leaders finished planning, no one felt completely satisfied, but nobody could offer any further improvements. Esk kar and his men returned to the south end, where the soldiers waited, tense, waiting to learn their future.
Esk kar looked at them, then raised his voice. “You men wanted to fight, didn’t you? Well, you’ll get a fight to remember, I promise you that. This will be a fight like no other. You’ll obey orders or wish you were never born. And work like slaves if you want to live through this one. Remember that if you want to live!”
With that, the camp burst into activity. Subutai gathered what supplies he needed and took fifteen of the fittest and best mounted warriors.
He had the most dangerous assignment-the bait for the trap. They rode south, back the way they came, planning to swing completely around the entire valley so as not to leave a trail. They would eventually ride north and fi nd the Alur Meriki, let themselves be seen, and lure the enemy into the valley.
Gatus took a work crew of thirty and some digging tools from the farmhouse. They walked along the steep east side, to avoid making tracks down the center of the vale. Meanwhile, Mesilim posted men as lookouts on the valley’s heights to make sure no one surprised them. Another work party took the donkeys and marched out through the south entrance, to gather as much wood as they could find.
For the rest of that day and the next, Esk kar’s men labored and practiced their movements, their archery, and their signals. The lead bowmen marked distances up and down the valley, so the archers would always know the range. The steep sides would negate any wind. Finally everything was ready.
Now all depended on Subutai. Not only did he have to find the Alur Meriki but he had to entice them into the valley, close enough behind him for the plan to work, but not too close for them to discover the trap.
So much could go wrong that Esk kar refused to think about it. Instead he complained about everything the men did, cursing them even as he urged them to work harder. As they sweated, everyone kept an eye on the horizons and hilltops, keeping their weapons close at hand. When all the preparations had been made, they finally rested and tended to their weapons.
The waiting began. Mesilim looked tense as well, shouting at his men over every little annoyance. The Ur Nammu leader worried about his son.
Jalen kept pacing back and forth, certain his choice of the valley would be blamed if anything went wrong. Only Gatus seemed above it all, calmly making sure the men did their tasks properly, saw to their arms, and trained in every spare minute.
At midmorning the next day, one of the sentries on the north rim gave a shout. Moments later a rider came into view, galloping an obviously weary mount into the valley. Every eye followed the lone horseman. Sweat covered his mount’s sides as he rode straight down the center of the valley until he reached the huts at the south end where Esk kar and Mesilim waited. It was Fashod, sent by Subutai with the news.
Dismounting, Fashod spoke so quickly to Mesilim that Esk kar had trouble understanding. Finally Mesilim turned to the waiting commanders.
“Subutai found a small scouting party of the Alur Meriki yesterday and ambushed them, letting a few escape. Then he rode west, pretending to hide his trail, before turning south. The main force of the Alur Meriki is following him, and he’s riding slowly as if his horses are tiring. Fashod thinks there are about seventy men in the war party. Subutai will be here in an hour with the Alur Meriki right behind him, if all goes well.”
Esk kar felt the sweat start on his hands but didn’t wipe them on his tunic, a gesture every man would see and understand. Anything could go wrong. The barbarians could catch up with Subutai earlier than expected; they could stop for some unknown reason; or simply turn away and head back toward the river. But now was not the moment to show fear or doubt.
“Then it’s time. Gatus, take command here.” Esk kar looked at Mesilim.
“May the gods smile on us today.”
“I’ll be at your side when the battle begins,” Mesilim answered. He turned to Fashod. “Stay here with Gatus, and make sure when Subutai arrives, he knows where we are and what we do.” With that Mesilim went to his men and, in a few moments, all twenty — two remaining Ur Nammu rode south out of the valley, leaving only Fashod with Gatus and fifty soldiers at the south end. Mesilim had an hour’s ride through the hills to circle the valley and appear at the north end.
Esk kar turned to Jalen. “Start the men moving, and by the gods, they’d better not leave anything behind or forget what they’ve been told.”
Esk kar, Jalen, and fifty bowmen moved north, in single file, hugging the east side of the valley and treading carefully so as not to leave any trace of their passing. For the last two days, everyone avoided trampling the grass in the center of the valley. When the Alur Meriki rode in, they must not see any sign of Esk kar’s men.
Near the north end of the valley, where the walls pinched sharply, Eskkar and each of his men paused long enough to leave their weapons in the deep pit they had carefully created and cunningly concealed.
Then they continued moving, still in single file, exiting the valley’s north entrance and turning to the northeast. The last two men used pieces of brush and took care to remove any trace or scent of their passage.
Three hundred paces from the valley entrance, Esk kar, Jalen, and fifty men packed themselves into a tiny cul — de — sac, sat on the ground shoulder to shoulder, and waited.
One man with good eyes and who could count was assigned as lookout, crouching in some rocks a few paces from their hiding place. Esk kar squatted down in the dirt with his men. The battle smell, that familiar combination of sweat, urine, and feces, soon filled the tiny space, as fifty unarmed men were wedged together in a space little bigger than Esk kar’s workroom.
Weaponless except for a few knives, a child with a sword could probably kill all of them. Esk kar knew this would be the most dangerous part of the trap. He’d decided to stay with the men most exposed to danger, to keep them steady by sharing the risk.
“Riders coming!” The sentry called out softly.
Esk kar pictured Subutai’s men riding into the valley from the north.
They’d be moving slowly, letting the Alur Meriki catch up. He strained to hear them, but there was too much hillside in the way, and Esk kar felt no vibration in the earth.
The men looked edgy, their breathing rapid, waiting the release of energy. Esk kar fought the urge to join the sentry, but there wasn’t much cover, and one man could see as well as ten. The waiting played tricks with his senses. One moment Esk kar could hear nothing, then he fancied he could hear the roar of flames and Subutai’s war cries.
“The barbarians are in sight. They’re moving… they’ve stopped! Keep silent!” the sentry hissed the last words.
The man would be hugging the ground. The men jammed behind Eskkar ceased all movement. No one spoke or made a sound, no stone kicked loose, and each man watched his neighbor closely for a cough or a sneeze that could ruin everything.
The barbarian riders would be little more than three hundred paces from Esk kar’s hiding place. Would the Alur Meriki sense a trap, would they see the men’s hiding place, or spy the sentry? Perhaps their horses would catch their rank smell. He tried to put himself in the mind of their war chief.
The Alur Meriki would see the Ur Nammu had ridden into a tiny valley, one with a small settlement at the far end, a settlement already sending fire and smoke into the sky. The war chief would hear men screaming, others sounding war cries, and would think the Ur Nammu too busy looting and killing to notice that riders had gradually overtaken them from behind.
Take the bait, Esk kar pleaded. You can have your enemy and the loot, too. Just ride in and take it. He heard the sound of horses. The much larger band of Alur Meriki warriors made more noise than Subutai’s smaller party. Then the sounds began to fade, and Esk kar knew the enemy had entered the valley. He saw the excitement in Jalen’s eyes.
The last hoofbeat disappeared. Esk kar remained immobile until the sound of scraping earth announced the sentry at the opening.
“They entered the valley, Captain, like you said they would!” The man’s grin looked like it would split his face in two.
“All of them?” Esk kar asked. “How many were there?”
“I counted seventy — three,” the man whispered, “and they all entered!”
Esk kar leapt to his feet. “Let’s go, men! Keep silent, and run as you’ve never run before!” With that he began racing toward the entrance of the valley, the sentry passing him in a flash and leading the way. Esk kar ran hard, and reached the opening of the gorge just in time to see the Alur Meriki, already more than halfway down the valley, burst into their charge as they launched themselves at what they thought were the unsuspecting Ur Nammu.
At the far end flames and black smoke rose high into the sky as the buildings and corrals burned, stoked by heaps of wood and dried grasses carefully placed under or inside them. In a moment, Gatus and his men would rise from their hiding places and launch the first flight of arrows, though they would wait until the last moment to give Esk kar as much time as possible.
He ran as hard as he could, head down, feet pounding. They had to cover more than a quarter of a mile to reach the weapons cache and arm themselves, and all this must be done before the Alur Meriki spotted them.
In practice, their best runners had covered the distance in the time a man could count to seventy — eight.
This time they ran for their lives and their weapons, and Esk kar’s men kept passing him, Jalen already far ahead, as the younger and faster men easily outpaced their leader. Esk kar cursed himself for being so old and slow. Though for his men, he’d chosen those who could run the fastest.
They had to reach the weapons, arm themselves, and form a battle line across the narrowest part of the valley before the barbarians recognized the snare and escaped back the way they came.
If the plan worked the trap would be considerably smaller than the valley’s full length, maybe small enough to allow Esk kar’s men to support each other when the barbarians hurled all their force at one contingent or the other in an effort to escape.
Esk kar reached the weapons pit at last and found his great sword out and leaning against a rock. Even with his head start, all the men had passed him. The line had already started to form, the men struggling with their equipment as they extended toward the middle of the valley. A gold coin had been promised to the first man to reach that station. The men moved slower now. Each had to carry a sword, bow and quivers, the wooden shield, and a thick staff to support it.
Snatching up his sword, he didn’t bother to buckle it on. He ran toward the valley’s center. He saw the fi rst soldier reach the midpoint of the valley, plant his shield, and notch an arrow. The trap was nearly complete.
A few moments later Esk kar reached the center as Mesilim and his band rode slowly in to complete the line of battle. The Ur Nammu formed into two ranks. The riders, a few feet apart, bows in hand, lances slung across their backs, had determined looks on their faces, prepared to pay back their hated enemy for the killing they’d endured.
Esk kar’s fifty men stretched across two — thirds of the gap. Mesilim and his twenty — two warriors filled the remaining portion.
Gasping for breath, Esk kar stopped a few steps from Mesilim’s horse as the Ur Nammu chief took his place. Esk kar took his first good look down the valley.
The Alur Meriki milled around, trying to understand what happened.
One moment they’d been charging toward a dozen dismounted Ur Nammu raiders. Then a line of men had risen as if by magic from the earth and launched a flight of arrows toward them. In the same instant the looting and burning Ur Nammu had leaped to their horses and launched their own arrows.
The Alur Meriki, taken by surprise, had wheeled their horses and galloped back out of range. Esk kar knew they’d already lost their best chance to escape. If they’d continued with their charge, they would have taken heavy losses but at least some would have broken through Gatus and Subutai’s men.
Esk kar picked out their leader, surrounded by his men as he tried to figure out why the strangers didn’t pursue the attack, why they stood there shouting and cursing and waving their bows, while the Ur Nammu rode back and forth. Esk kar counted thirteen riderless horses scattered among them, attesting to the damage done by the arrows from Gatus’s men.
Those arrows had flown at the Alur Meriki until they stopped and turned, then ceased abruptly. The Subutai’s warriors remained behind Gatus’s bowmen. Those archers, protected from foot to midchest by the heavy shields, propped upright by a stake, waited for the next charge.
As Esk kar watched, one Alur Meriki warrior, shouting and waving his bow, finally reached the side of his chief and pointed toward the north.
The chief looked back the way they had entered and saw a line of men stretching across the narrowest part of the gorge, more Ur Nammu at their side.
The Alur Meriki had ridden into a trap, and now their leader knew it.
Esk kar glanced back down the line and saw that it had fully formed up.
Each man stood two paces from his neighbor, behind the shield that gave him partial shelter from Alur Meriki arrows. Each man had one quiver on his waist, the other resting on the shield, arrows splayed out for easy grasping. Every man’s sword was thrust into the earth, ready for instant use should the Alur Meriki survive the arrow storm.
Jalen commanded the men closest to the walls, standing behind the line, sword in hand, while Hamati, one of Gatus’s subcommanders, took his position at the center of the bowmen. Hamati would direct the archers’ fire.
Everyone was in place. Everything had gone as planned. Now Esk kar and his men waited. Only one more piece of the plan was needed to make the trap complete.
Hamati, calmly chewing on a blade of grass and with a big smile on his face, walked up to Esk kar. Three water skins had been stored in the hole, and Hamati had just handed off the last of them to the soldiers. Every man would have his fill of water before the fight.
“Well, Captain, they’ve got their water. Now they can piss all they like.”
He squinted down the valley. “I think they’re still in arrow range of Gatus’s men and don’t know it.”
“They’re confused, all right,” Esk kar agreed. “This isn’t how they’re used to fighting, but they’ll make a new plan soon enough. Are the men ready?” A stupid question, and Esk kar regretted the words as soon as he uttered them.
The veteran Hamati had heard a hundred such questions from senior leaders. “They’re ready. And I’ve told them again to aim at the horses.” He smiled at his captain’s worries. “They’ve got confidence now, too, knowing that Gatus stopped them. Don’t worry, we’ll hold them.”
There was movement in the Alur Meriki ranks and their horses began to turn toward Esk kar, a ragged line forming. Their leader had evidently decided to take no more chances with what might lie before him. He’d try to escape the way he came.
Gatus saw the same movement and knew what it meant. Esk kar couldn’t hear the order, but suddenly arrows winged their way toward the barbarians, just within range of the soldiers’ long bows. Mitrac, with his longer and more powerful bow, would be able to reach them easily. Esk kar had left Mitrac with Gatus, thinking the youth would be safer there.
The deadly rain fell on the Alur Meriki again, wounding man and beast, throwing the unformed mass into more confusion. One horse went wild with pain, kicking and biting until someone killed it.
The Alur Meriki trotted out of range, but Gatus reacted almost as promptly, moving his men forward fifty paces before they stopped to re-form the line of shields. The Ur Nammu warriors paced their horses right behind.
“Time to get to work, Hamati,” Esk kar said grimly. “They’ve figured it out now.” He walked back to Mesilim. “What will they do next? Your side or mine?”
“Your side,” Mesilim answered without turning his eyes away from the enemy, sitting tall on his saddle blanket, trying to see as much as possible.
“They’ll try to ride right through the center of your men, as far from ours as possible. Now they only seek to break out, and they don’t think your bowmen can stop them. If your men can hold, we’ll break them.”
Something in Mesilim’s voice gave Esk kar a chill. He’d heard that tone before, the battle fury that made men berserk with rage at their enemies.
But he had no time for such thoughts. The Alur Meriki began to move toward the east side of the valley, driving their horses to a gallop as they rode up the slight incline.
“Bows up, full range,” Hamati shouted, using the same words as he had done in a thousand training sessions as he gauged the distance for the first shot. “Aim for the horses. If any get through, use your swords on the horses’ legs.”
The bows were drawn and the shafts held, angled up for long — range shooting.
“Ready!” Hamati’s voice carried up and down the line. “Loose! At will!”
Fifty arrows leapt from the bowstrings, their fall timed to arrive at a distant spot of earth at the same moment the barbarians reached it. The shafts whistled as they burst into the air. The second wave launched less than three seconds later, then another, the volley becoming more jagged as the faster men got off shots a bit quicker than the others.
Men and horses went down, but not many, and the barbarians kept coming. Esk kar saw the soldiers’ bows were at level now, the men firing as fast as they could. The Alur Meriki war cries mixed with the thunder of the horses’ hooves and the earth shook from their impact.
The Alur Meriki had to cover more than half a mile to reach Esk kar’s men, which should take them about the time a man might count to seventy, and they’d be in bowshot for almost half that distance. Automatically, Esk kar counted the volleys. One… two… three. Each volley equaled fifty arrows, all aimed at about sixty warriors. Four… five… six.
Arrows flew both ways. A bowman went down, then another, even as an arrow whistled by Esk kar’s ear. Seven… eight… nine. But the soldiers’ heavy shafts kept finding their marks as the range decreased. Ten… eleven. Horses and riders spilled to the earth, slowing the riders behind them. Orak’s archers had turned the rapid — fi re tactics of the steppes people against them, with even greater efficiency and accuracy.
Esk kar heard Mesilim shout an order and saw the first rank of Ur Nammu riders begin to move. Twelve…
With a shout, Mesilim led ten men in a sweep, curving his line to the left and aiming to strike the Alur Meriki from the flank just before they closed with the bowmen. Mesilim’s men launched arrows as they rode.
At the same time, the second line of Ur Nammu wheeled their horses behind Esk kar’s men to back up the line should any of the Alur Meriki break through.
When the Alur Meriki leader saw the Ur Nammu moving up behind the archers, he knew the line wouldn’t break. Thirteen… fourteen. Then, less than seventy paces from the soldiers, the Alur Meriki warriors started pulling their mounts up, unable to continue in the face of the withering fi re.
Esk kar saw their leader shouting, trying to swing his men to his left, to crash through the open space where the Ur Nammu had been. Instead he found Mesilim and his ten riders smashing into them in a fighting melee.
The remaining Ur Nammu were supposed to wait behind, to cut off any that tried to escape. But seeing their brethren in action before them, they ignored their orders and spurred through the bowmen, knocking soldiers down in their eagerness to reach their enemy.
Their actions forced Orak’s archers to stop shooting, as friend and foe mixed together.
Mesilim’s men and horses were rested and prepared. Their first wave of arrows cut down their foes before they could bring their superior numbers to bear. Then lances and swords were swept up. Esk kar saw Mesilim bring down a horse with his first arrow, then kill a warrior with the second, before the Ur Nammu leader crashed his horse into the Alur Meriki leader’s beast. Esk kar saw Mesilim drop his bow and swing up his lance before he disappeared from sight in the swarm of horses, men, and dust.
Cursing at every god he could think of, Esk kar broke into a run, determined to stop as many as possible from escaping into the now — open gap to his right. Three Alur Meriki did get through, but Hamati had seen the danger and pulled men off the line, turning them to stop this new threat.
They launched their arrows and brought down the men, multiple shafts protruding from horse and rider, before the Alur Meriki could get away.
The surviving attackers had broken off in defeat, turning their horses and heading back to the center of the valley. Esk kar saw Mesilim again.
The Ur Nammu chief clung to his horse’s neck, unable to recall his men.
Blood covered both horse and rider when Esk kar arrived at a run to grasp the halter just as Mesilim started to fall.
Esk kar caught the wounded man and lowered him to the ground. Mesilim’s horse had taken a slash across the neck as well, its eyes wide and stumbling in its gait. Many riderless animals milled about and some of Esk kar’s men began wasting time trying to catch them.
The Ur Nammu jumped down from their horses, surrounding their leader and pushing Esk kar aside in their haste, but in moments they returned to their horses. One of them turned to Esk kar. “Mesilim is dying.
But he orders us to obey you until Subutai says otherwise.”
“Check every horse. No one must escape clinging to a horse’s belly.
Send five men to guard the north entrance and tell them to stay there no matter what. And make sure every Alur Meriki is dead. Thrust a lance into every body.”
Turning his attention back toward the center of the valley, Esk kar saw the retreating barbarians had gotten another surprise. Gatus had moved his men forward at a dead run as soon as the charge began, and now his men formed up two hundred paces closer in. The barbarians found themselves under long range fire from both sides, as Hamati ordered his men fifty paces forward.
They could go no farther. Any greater advance would put them into the widest part of the valley and spread the line too thin. Nevertheless, arrows began to fly from both ends of the valley. The shafts flashed high into the sky before arcing down upon the enemy.
Esk kar caught a glimpse of the Alur Meriki chief. He’d survived Mesilim’s attack but looked wounded. Esk kar took a quick count; only about twenty barbarians remained alive. Gatus moved again, advancing another fifty paces before setting up the new line.
Alur Meriki men and horses, hit at long range by lethal, bronze — tipped arrows, continued to fall. Their chief didn’t have enough men left to break through either side now. He gave another command and his men began racing toward the west wall.
They began to climb, scrambling up the steep sides. The Alur Meriki had to dismount to lead and drive the horses up the slope. The moment they’d started toward the cliff, Ur Nammu from both sides charged, ignoring the soldiers’ arrows still arching over their heads and striking at the fl eeing men.
Esk kar saw horses slip and fall, screaming in pain, men and beasts dying as shafts found their marks, but the Alur Meriki kept climbing, fighting up the rocky slope as they strove to escape the valley. But as the first man reached the top, four Ur Nammu strode to the edge of the cliff and began firing arrows down into the struggling mass.
These were Subutai’s men, plus the two boys who had ridden with their elders. He’d sent three men and a boy to the west side, and two men and the other boy to the east side in case any Alur Meriki tried to climb out. It had taken these men this long to get into position, but they’d arrived just in time to partake in the killing.
The few surviving Alur Meriki left alive were helpless. If they let go of the horses, the animals would immediately turn and try to descend.
And they couldn’t shoot a bow with one hand. In moments they were all dead or dying, either from the carefully aimed arrows fi red at close range by the men above, or the storm of missiles from Subutai and his men below. The Ur Nammu had joined together at the base of the hillside to finish the slaughter, some of them jeering at their victims as they handled their bows.
One of Esk kar’s men captured a horse and brought it to his captain.
Esk kar swung onto the back of the wild — eyed animal. Once he had control of the excited brute, he rode deeper into the valley and reached the Ur Nammu as the last body came crashing down the hillside, pushed down by the men descending from the top.
Subutai, blood on his lip and a look of triumph on his face, looked otherwise unharmed. His jubilant men shouted their war cries. He saw Eskkar. Then his eyes went wide as he realized his father was not with him.
“Your father is dying, Subutai.” Esk kar knew no way to soften the news.
Subutai gave a gasp of anger and frustration but said nothing.
Esk kar couldn’t wait. “Subutai, we must check all the bodies, make sure that none are playing dead or hiding in the rocks. We have to count the dead, you understand?”
Subutai took a long time before replying, his face betraying the anger he tried to hold in check. “Take me to him.” Nevertheless, he shouted orders at his men before turning his horse away from the hillside.
The two rode back to where Ur Nammu warriors attended their chief.
Mesilim lay still, either dead or unconscious, so Esk kar left the tribesmen to their grieving and rode off, to make sure Jalen and Hamati sealed the valley and counted the dead. Then he turned and galloped back to Gatus, who followed orders and retreated back to the south end of the valley.
“Gatus, guard the entrance, and keep men at watch along the walls of the canyon.”
Gatus would take care of the details, so Esk kar wheeled the horse around and headed back to the warriors, now bunched around Mesilim’s body. Dismounting, Esk kar found he was still carrying his sword, never having thought to belt the scabbard to his waist, and he’d done nothing with the heavy blade but carry it from place to place.
This time he saw Mesilim had died. Esk kar stood beside the body and offered the warrior prayer to the gods. When he finished, he nodded to Subutai, then withdrew to leave the Ur Nammu to their death rituals. Eskkar had work enough to do.
He started with the Alur Meriki dead, and it took some time before Esk kar felt satisfied, and then only after he’d counted the bodies personally. He ignored the numbers of Jalen and Gatus and demanded all the bodies be gathered at one site to make sure seventy — three dead Alur Meriki lay on the earth. Darkness began to fall, coming earlier in the hill — shaded valley, and the men built a fire. When Esk kar sat down near the fl ames he felt exhausted, as if he’d been fi ghting all day, though he hadn’t raised his sword once.
Someone brought him a wineskin stolen from the farmhouse, and Eskkar drank it gratefully, for once not caring there was only enough for himself, and the men would have to do without.
Gatus had lost only three men, with two more wounded. The men with Esk kar had taken more losses, five dead and four wounded, but with only one or two likely to die. The heavy shields the men had complained about carrying for days had undoubtedly saved lives and prevented wounds.
The Ur Nammu had lost four men and two wounded, all occurring when Mesilim led his men at the barbarians. It was an amazing victory, seventy — three enemy killed, while losing only twelve of their own. Esk kar had never heard of such a battle before, in which a large and powerful force could be defeated so easily and with so few losses.
Normally when men fought, the side with the greater number won unless the other side proved tougher, better armed, or more rested. Here the battle had first been considered weeks before. Then the details of the trap carefully plotted. Esk kar decided more such victories could be achieved with the same forethought, like the way they planned the defense of Orak.
He’d think more about it later.
When Esk kar dropped the empty wineskin to the ground, the soldiers had gathered around the fi re. Those closest to the blaze sat, while the rest stood behind. Almost ninety men waited patiently, wanting to hear what he would say.
A few whispered to one another, but most remained silent. Everyone stared at him and Esk kar saw admiration in their eyes. It took a moment before he understood. Trella’s words came back to him. The men first, Eskkar, build on their loyalty. Remember how much you need them. He must say something to them.
He stood up. Instantly all conversation ceased, and every eye rested on him. Taking a deep breath, Esk kar raised his voice.
“Today we defeated the barbarians in battle. But this was no common clash in the hills. We had to kill all of them. Well, today you men killed seventy — three barbarians and we lost only twelve men. To win, you had to follow your orders exactly and fight bravely. You needed to work together to save each other’s lives. You did that well, and at the same time you proved that the enemy could be beaten with the bow. Now they’ll have no force behind us when they come to Orak, and we’ll beat them there just as we did here. Today, the glory was yours. Today I did nothing but run so slowly that all of my men passed me by.”
They laughed at that, a few calling out comments about Esk kar getting old.
He raised his arm and pointed toward the other fire fifty paces away, where the Ur Nammu sat silently, watching Esk kar speak to his men. “But never forget that we would not have been so lucky without their help.
Some of them died today, including their leader, to help us. For that we must honor them and join them as brothers.”
Esk kar glanced around the ring of men. He could see some eyes glistening with moisture. “Tonight we’ll take many new men into the Hawk Clan. Gatus, Hamati, Jalen… we all observed many men who fought bravely. But each of you stood at your companion’s side, and each of you can speak up about his courage. First, I call out the name of Phrandar, the fleetest runner and the first to reach the battle line, earning a gold coin for his speed. He held the end of the battle line. I ask you, is he Hawk Clan?”
A roar of approval answered his choice. Men shouted out other names.
Then someone began to chant the name “Esk kar!.. Esk kar!.. Esk kar!”
Others took up the cry, until the walls of the valley echoed from the din. It went on for so long he thought their lungs would burst. When they quieted down, the men sat there, looking at him.
Esk kar had never seen such honor given before. Though he’d done little, the soldiers gave him credit for their victory. The men believed in him. More than that, they trusted him to keep them alive. Trella had been right. He no longer needed to fight himself, to prove his valor, to keep their respect. They accepted his leadership, as they trusted him to lead them to future victories. He’d won their loyalty. Now he needed to build on it.
“Soldiers of Orak,” he began, “the Hawk Clan awaits the bravest of the brave. Give me their names!”
Another roar went up into the night. Again they shouted out names, until Gatus stood up and restored order. When they finished, eighteen more men would be entitled to wear the Hawk symbol. And they all swore they’d follow Esk kar into the demon’s pits if he led them.
Esk kar finally slipped away and walked over to Subutai and his men.
They silently mourned their leader, as they watched the soldiers celebrate.
“Subutai,” Esk kar began, “I’ve come to offer my thanks to you and your men. Without your help, we would not have achieved this victory. I also offer my sorrow for Mesilim. He was a great fighter, a brave man who led his people well.”
“You honor my father, and that is good. He died as he wanted-in battle.” Subutai kept his voice strong and clear for all to hear, the voice of a chief. “But you, too, are a great leader, and you’ve led us to a great victory.
Because of this I have declared the Shan Kar of my father satisfied. He gave us the Shan Kar and this victory, but now both are finished. We’ll return to the north from whence we came.”
The moment Subutai had declared the Shan Kar over, Esk kar knew the Ur Nammu would fight no more. Mesilim had made the arrangement to fight with Esk kar, not Subutai, and his son wasn’t bound by oath or duty to abide it. In his heart, Esk kar could not argue with the decision. Too few now to do much damage, the Ur Nammu would be lucky to stay alive.
“I’m glad your Shan Kar is ended. But the friendship between our people will not end. We owe you much, and we’ll remember our debt.”
Esk kar described his plan to begin the march back to Orak in the morning. They’d both bury their dead at first light. Subutai would return with Esk kar to gather the women and children left behind.
Hours passed before everyone finally settled down to sleep. Esk kar felt dog — tired, more from worrying than fi ghting. At last the sentries were posted and the watch established. He was about to wrap himself in his blanket when he heard his name. Turning, he saw Subutai walking through the crowd of soldiers toward him. He started to get up, but Subutai sat down close beside him, their faces close together.
“Esk kar, I would speak with you a moment.” Subutai kept his voice low, and he spoke in his native tongue though the nearest man was ten paces away. “I know what my father promised you, and I’d help you if I can. My men are weary, and need time to rest, and we must regain our lands before another takes them. But I don’t want to leave you as a friend in the morning and find ourselves enemies by night.”
Esk kar understood Subutai’s problem. “There’s no dishonor in your course. You must do what’s best for your people. When you cross the river to the north, the land there is yours. None from Orak have ever claimed it, and few have even seen it. It doesn’t grow wheat or vegetables, so it is of little use to us. As long as you do not war across the river, we won’t be enemies.”
“It will be long before we’re strong enough to ride across the river.”
“Even then, there will be no need. When all this fighting ends, we’ll need help to watch our borders and warn us of new attacks and new enemies. We could establish trade for what you need, set up a trading camp.
Your people would benefit.”
“Perhaps it can be as you say,” Subutai said, “trade instead of war. But first I must gather my people and return to the mountains. Still some of my warriors favor the idea of raiding the Alur Meriki, as you and my father discussed. We’ll see what the next few weeks will bring.” He reached out and grasped Esk kar’s shoulder. “We part as friends, as my father would have done.”
Esk kar returned the grip. “As friends we will part. But there may yet be some things I can do for you before you go. I’ll think about it and send word to Trella.”
When the Ur Nammu chief departed, Esk kar sank back down on the grass, thinking about Subutai’s words “the next few weeks.” The new Ur Nammu leader had just said Esk kar and the village would have to withstand the Alur Meriki’s attacks for at least that long, no matter what. Eskkar grimaced as he rolled up in his blanket.
Trella had seen how these people could help Orak now and in the future. More important, she’d looked at them with kindness, seeing past the warrior trappings, even as she’d overlooked the barbarian in the man to whom she’d been given.
Bar’rack crawled to the top of the ridge, ignoring the insects that welcomed his presence as they nibbled on his flesh. Peering through a clump of tall grass, he watched the approach to the valley. He couldn’t see much. The entrance lay more than three hundred paces away, but what he saw kept him hugging the ground.
Two riders sat their horses near the valley’s mouth. Both carried lances tipped with yellow streamers and bows slung across their backs. Their relaxed posture made Bar’rack grit his teeth in anger. His clan brothers had ridden into that valley only hours ago; he could still see the broad trail of hoof prints that stretched from just below him all the way to the passage-way that led into what must be a good — sized valley.
Another rider appeared along the crest of the valley wall. This one waved his bow toward the riders below him. They waved back, but didn’t move. After a long moment studying the land beneath him, the third rider turned away, vanishing from sight.
Bar’rack swore at the flies and fleas biting at him, then cursed his clan brothers for leaving him behind, though now he began to think the gods had saved his life. His horse had stepped into a hole, breaking its leg and throwing its rider to the earth. Too dazed even to cling behind another rider, they’d left him behind in their eagerness to close with the Ur Nammu. He’d slipped into unconsciousness and when he awoke, he found himself alone.
Angry at being left behind, Bar’rack started walking, an activity that normally consisted of moving from his tent to his horse. It had taken him the better part of two hours, following the twisting trail left by his clansmen, to reach this place. Fortunately the riders hadn’t spotted him when he approached.
Another hour passed as he watched, but nothing happened. The crest rider had reappeared twice in that time, his movements telling Bar’rack that the Ur Nammu patrolled the valley’s heights as well as its access.
His Alur Meriki brothers hadn’t returned the way they entered, so either they’d ridden out the far end of the valley, assuming that it had one, or they’d all been killed. How that might be possible he had no idea, but he’d heard the story of the warriors trapped and killed by the Ur Nammu a few weeks ago. In his worst dreams, Bar’rack couldn’t believe such a thing could happen to his clansmen.
A handful of riders appeared at the valley’s mouth, and for a moment Bar’rack thought his clansmen had returned. But these new riders showed no colors, didn’t even carry lances or bows. Dirteaters, he decided, from the way they handled their horses, except for their leader. A tall warrior with the look of a horseman, he spoke as an equal to the two Ur Nammu guarding the exit. The way they answered, showing respect and deference, surprised Bar’rack. He watched as the tall rider acknowledged their response. Then he wheeled his horse and rode back into the valley, his men following behind.
Bar’rack had seen enough. He put his face on the ground and tried to think. Dirt- eaters had banded together with the filth Ur Nammu. They’d either wiped out all the Alur Meriki warriors, or driven them to the south.
In either case, Bar’rack would be on his own. His duty to his clan was clear-he had to get back across the Tigris and warn the Alur Meriki clan leaders.
A moment of fear swept through him. If the Ur Nammu rode back this way, they might see his footprints overlaying the horse trail. They’d hunt him down, track him wherever he went, until they caught him. Bar’rack looked up at the sun. Only a few hours of daylight remained. He didn’t dare start moving until dark. He’d have to travel all night, put as much distance as possible between him and the Ur Nammu, who would surely send out patrols at dawn.
Getting away, finding and stealing a horse somewhere, then getting back to Thutmose — sin: that’s what he needed to do. Bar’rack rolled over on his back and covered his eyes with his arm. He still had his water skin and his bow. He’d rest until dusk, then start moving. With luck, he could travel far enough to escape the Ur Nammu patrols.
Beneath his arm, Bar’rack found his eyes watering. His younger brother had ridden into that valley. Now Bar’rack would have to tell their mother of his death. He let the tears come, something he couldn’t do in the presence of warriors. But when the tears dried, he swore vengeance to the gods, in the name of his brother, against both the Ur Nammu and the miserable dirt — eaters. The gods heard his oath, and he knew they would honor it. The dirt — eaters and Ur Nammu would pay for his brother’s death.