As the afternoon waned, Eskkar met with his commanders and the fifteen men chosen for the initial raid. They’d had to wait until all the farmers moved well away from the camp. The carefully selected soldiers received their instructions, and Eskkar used the few hours before darkness to make sure Sisuthros and the men knew exactly what to do. Only after Eskkar felt satisfied did they gather around the campfire for the evening meal.
Nevertheless, Eskkar kept reviewing the details of the attack during dinner, speaking to each man, making sure each knew his assignment. Finally even Eskkar could find nothing wrong. He went off by himself, to try and get some sleep, leaving word to wake him when the men were ready.
Sleep came slowly. Eskkar had never sent men out on a raid before, had never delegated such a command to another. Always he had led sorties like this himself. To send others out into danger while he remained safe in camp seemed unmanly. But he knew that he couldn’t risk his own life on such a small raid, just as he knew Sisuthros could easily direct the men.
At midnight, Grond woke Eskkar from a restless sleep. Sisuthros and his men stood ready, each standing by his horse. Eskkar gripped Sisuthros by the shoulder, then stood aside as his subcommander led the first two of his men out of the camp. The rest of the soldiers left, two at a time, after a slow count to one hundred, so that the horses wouldn’t get nervous in the darkness and begin whinnying, or making sounds that might alert any keen ears in Bisitun. Eskkar knew horses could do strange things at night, spooking at some shadow, the moon, or even a breeze.
Each man would walk his horse a full half mile before mounting and waiting for the rest of the men to join up. When all the riders assembled, they would pace their horses at a slow step for another mile before turning north.
The last of them disappeared from sight, and nothing remained for Eskkar to do except wait. He didn’t expect Ninazu to launch an attack tonight, but Eskkar wanted his remaining men alert and ready just in case.
The moon had risen late and progressed steadily across the starry sky.
The scouts stationed between the camp and the village came in at regular intervals, all reporting no activity from Bisitun’s defenders. Eskkar paced back and forth, checking with the men as he went, urging them to stay vigilant. Time seemed to slow the moon’s journey across the night, and he thought morning would never come.
A few moments before dawn, the sound of hoofbeats came from the south. Though expected, the sentries gave the challenge. Sisuthros called out his name in a loud voice, though the approaching horses slowed to a walk a hundred paces from the camp. Eskkar gave the word, and soldiers lit torches that revealed a smiling Sisuthros leading his horse back into the encampment.
As Sisuthros and the others passed in, Eskkar grasped him by the arm and pulled him aside. “Did it go well? We heard nothing from here.”
Sisuthros’s grin turned into a laugh. “Yes, Captain, it went well. They never heard a thing. If we had more men, we could have forced our way in by the river. I’ll wager they don’t notice anything until well after sunup.”
“You mean they saw nothing? And the men? All went according to plan?” By now, everyone pressed round Sisuthros and his band, who came in laughing and swaggering, pleased with themselves and the ease of their mission. “Tell us what happened.”
“We walked the horses, until we were out of earshot, then rode to the northern part of the river.” Men jostled each other to hear Sisuthros’s words, every one eager to learn about the first action against Bisitun. “I sent the rest of the riders, with all the horses, downstream of the village, telling them to swing wide of the encampment. My men and I boarded the boats with no problems.”
The scouts had found a farm a few miles upriver that possessed two small boats, probably used mainly for fishing, but each large enough to carry a few men. No doubt by now the puzzled farmer wondered who had stolen his vessels.
“We let the boats drift downstream,” Sisuthros went on. “Just before we reached Bisitun, four men from each boat slipped into the water and clung to the boat’s sides.”
Sisuthros had chosen only strong swimmers for this raid, men who stood ready to trust themselves to the river’s current to carry them to safety, if need be.
“We drifted in among the vessels at the rear of the village,” Sisuthros continued. “We untied or cut the ropes mooring all the boats there, and shoved them well out into the current. It didn’t take long, and we stood by in the boats to carry the men off as soon as someone raised the alarm.”
“We heard no outcry here, Sisuthros,” Eskkar said.
“No one gave the alarm. We could see guards walking the palisade, but they noticed nothing, and no one raised a cry. The sound of the river must have muffled the noise.”
“The guards were that lax in their duties?” Eskkar couldn’t believe it.
“They never saw you at all?”
“No. We made certain the current took all the boats downstream.
Then, with our men again clinging to the sides of their boats, we followed, making sure none of the boats had grounded. A mile downriver, we found our men and horses waiting, and rode back.”
“Well done, Sisuthros! You’re sure you cut all the boats loose?”
“Every one. We gave the river gods many offerings, for whatever gods and fortunate farmers live downstream!”
Everyone laughed. Sisuthros had to repeat his story in more detail, his men adding their own actions. By the time he finished, the torches had gone out, and the sun climbed above the horizon in the eastern sky.
Eskkar, a smile on his face for the first time in many hours, ordered the men to get some food and rest, while he sat atop the rampart and watched the village.
So far, the plan that he had fi rst sketched out in his mind back in Dilgarth continued to progress smoothly. When he’d learned the size of Ninazu’s force, he had known that, even though he could probably take the village by direct assault, he would lose far too many men in the process.
No, he knew he needed to capture Bisitun quickly, and with a minimum of casualties to his valuable men. Besides, he needed the village and its inhabitants as intact as possible. Now, in less than two days and thanks to Sisuthros’s well-executed raid, Eskkar had bottled Ninazu’s men in the village.
Now the next part of the plan would begin. Ninazu and his men would have plenty to worry about. They’d seen firsthand that they faced a disciplined force, real soldiers who could throw up a fortified camp in less than a day. The threat of reinforcements coming soon would make some of them think about moving on.
With all the boats gone, Ninazu’s quick escape across the river would be greatly reduced. At this time of the year, a strong horse, ridden by a good rider who could swim himself if necessary, might make it across. But that rider couldn’t carry much loot, and Eskkar was willing to wager that if ten good men attempted it, three or four would likely drown.
So Ninazu would have to fight or run, before his own men began to slip away. Not that Eskkar wanted them to run. He didn’t want them plundering up and down the river for the next few weeks, with his Akkadians wasting their days in pursuit. He wanted most of the bandits dead, and the rest as slave labor to rebuild Bisitun.
The village shone in the morning light, as the sun moved ever higher in the sky, and Eskkar fancied he saw fewer defenders than yesterday. Everyone inside Bisitun would know about the loss of the boats, and worry, if not fear or panic, would start taking its toll. Some would be thinking about escape. The more they thought about escaping, the less willing they would be to fight. Eskkar decided to apply more pressure.
He turned back to the encampment and found Grond waiting there, a few steps behind him. “Grond, get the men on their horses. Send ten riders and ten archers to each side of the encampment. If any in the village want to make a run for it, make sure they have to fight their way out. I don’t want anyone going in or out of Bisitun.”
Grond relayed the orders to Hamati and the other men. It took only a few minutes to get the forty men chosen something to eat, and send them on their way. When they reached their positions, each detachment would block any escape attempt by anyone, on foot or mounted, to pass through Bisitun’s back gate, and follow the river to safety.
Of course if the defenders came out in strength on either side, then the situation would change. But they talked about even that possibility.
While the full force of the bandits could certainly ride through twenty men, it might take some time, and with enough time, the rest of the Akkadians from the main camp might catch them with their backs against the river.
What Eskkar thought more likely was that a hundred men would burst out of the front gate, and attempt to ride right through, or around, the encampment. He now had only thirty-two fighting men, plus the scribes, boys, and liverymen remaining to defend the camp. Eskkar had stretched his forces very thin, but he needed to act as if he had the upper hand. As soon as the men in the camp finished their meal, he had them ready their weapons and stand to their posts. With his men in place, he returned to the embankment and watched the palisade.
Once again, the man with the silver bracelets stood there, studying the Akkadians, and undoubtedly making plans of his own. Nevertheless, the loss of Ninazu’s boats changed the situation, and now the ground outside the palisade, with its tumbled-down houses, worked to Eskkar’s advantage.
Men on horseback would only have a clear path directly down the main road, which would send them straight at the encampment, or along the river’s edge, where they would encounter archers and mounted men. Ninazu would see all this, as could his men, and they would begin to worry.
For days Ninazu had assured his men that they could easily fight off Eskkar’s small force from behind the palisade. Instead, the bandits could see a hard fight ahead of them if they tried to escape. Moreover, the worst worry of all would be knowing that, in two or three days, another strong force would reinforce the attackers.
Grond returned to join him. “All the men are in position, Captain.
Sisuthros and Hamati are getting some sleep, but the rest of the men are resting at their posts.”
“Watch the walls, Grond. If they all decide to run for it, the guards on the palisade will slowly be replaced by villagers. They’ll be nervous and frightened. That might give us warning.”
“Do you think they’ll run?”
Eskkar thought about that. “His brother was brave enough. I don’t think Ninazu will give up Bisitun without a fight. Besides, he sees us splitting our force, and that will make him wonder what we will do when night falls. If he thinks that we’ve weakened our force here, he may fall into our trap.” Once again, Eskkar went though the thought process. “I still think he will come tonight, with a large force, right at our camp.”
He faced his bodyguard, who still stood there, doubt still written on his face. “I know, Grond, I have my own doubts. But if he does nothing, and another hundred men appear, he’ll be trapped. His men will run if he does nothing.” Eskkar shrugged. “Well, that’s what I would do. But I am not him, so we’ll have to wait and see.”
“Are you sure that we can withstand them, if he sends everyone against us?”
“These are bandits, Grond, not Alur Meriki warriors. They have no clan or family to fight for, no code of bravery to sustain them. They are held together only by their lust for gold. If thirty of us cannot break them…” He shook his head and headed back to the rear of the camp.
The daylight hours dragged by, one by one, with Eskkar pacing back and forth. The camp had to appear no different from the day before, so all the regular activities continued. Men stood to their watches, cooking fires sent smoke into the sky, and anyone not standing guard relaxed on the embankment, watching the village.
The detachments on either side of Bisitun reported in, but they saw no sign of anyone trying to cross the river or escape along its banks.
Sisuthros, after he had taken his rest, declared that to be a good sign-if they weren’t trying to run, then they would be ready to fight.
As the afternoon began to lengthen, Eskkar, Sisuthros, Hamati, and Grond met once again, and began to prepare for the night’s work. They went over everything for almost two hours, thinking of what could go wrong, what evil chance could upset their plans, what they would do if the plan failed, and even what they would do if they were beaten.
The soldiers started the evening fires and prepared their meal before Eskkar and his subcommanders finished. At least the men continued eating well, thanks to his largess with the local farmers. With dinner finished, Eskkar and his commanders met with the other senior men. The thirty men in the camp would be at the greatest risk, and Eskkar wanted them to know exactly what he expected of them. Each of the subcommanders went over it yet again, this time with their men.
Eskkar watched, looking for signs of confusion, but saw nothing but confidence. No one showed any fear, or doubted their ability to beat off an attack. The men believed in him, believed in his luck if nothing else. At last, it was time to go. “Take care, Sisuthros. And good hunting to all of us.”
Grond had made all the preparations, and he and Eskkar slipped out of the camp. They took their time moving across the dark landscape, swinging wide to their rear, lest some chance fl ash of moonlight revealed them to any sharp-eyed guards on the village palisade. Eskkar didn’t want to trip and sprain an ankle in the darkness. Finally, they joined up with the men who guarded the southern edge of the river.
The small camp had only a single fire burning in front of it, lighting the darkness between it and the village. The men sat well back from the firelight, waiting for Eskkar to arrive. They’d spent the afternoon practicing their archery, the same as they had done every day before and during the siege of Akkad, and talking over what situations they would likely encounter and how they would respond. Every one of these bowmen could loose a properly aimed arrow every three seconds, and some even faster.
Now they waited, confident in the skills and in their leaders.
Grond had briefed them earlier in the day, but as soon as Eskkar joined them, they checked their preparations again. These men were eager, anxious to go on the offensive, and ready to take their chances. Five of them were already Hawk Clan members and another seven, mostly experienced fighters, looked to prove themselves worthy of such an honor.
Mitrac waited there, leaning on his bow, next to the two men he had considered his best archers, both men who had fought beside Hamati at Dilgarth. Even Eskkar felt satisfied that everyone knew what to do.
Midnight passed without event. Eskkar could do nothing to make the time pass faster, not even pace around. If Ninazu’s attack came, it would likely be when the moon began to set, about two hours before dawn. Too excited and nervous to rest or sleep, Eskkar and his men just waited. Most of them lay on their backs and watched the silver orb slowly cross the night sky. At last the moon began to fade. The time had arrived.
Eskkar sat on the ground, drumming his fingers against his leg, a bad habit he had picked up during the siege of Akkad. He didn’t like anyone knowing he felt nervous, and he stopped the motion the moment he became conscious of it. Except for the faint crackling of the fire, Eskkar could hear nothing. Another hour crept by, and still he heard no sign of any activity. He wanted to start moving, but he didn’t dare take the chance.
Any unusual sound might stop Ninazu’s attack. If Ninazu even did plan to attack tonight, it should have come by now.
His doubts growing every moment, Eskkar had just decided that he had guessed wrong when a shout went up from the Akkadians’ main encampment. A moment later someone hurled a torch into the sky, Sisuthros’s signal an attack had begun. Shouts drifted across the black ground.
Without any commands, Eskkar and his men started to advance, trying to make as little noise as possible. They swung wide around their small fire.
In single file, they moved rapidly toward the southern corner of the village, each man following the man ahead of him. Mitrac led the way. He’d studied the ground during the day, and now Eskkar and the others followed him. Behind Mitrac strode his two picked archers, trailed by Eskkar, Grond, and the rest of the men.
Time moved quickly, and they soon drew close to the village, where it came closest to the river. When Mitrac stopped, less than a hundred paces separated them from the palisade. They crouched among the rubble, and hoped no one watched this side of the village too closely. Mitrac and his chosen archers disappeared into the darkness.
Sound continued to drift in from the front of the village, though Eskkar couldn’t tell what any of it meant. For all he knew, his men in the camp had been overrun and slaughtered, or they had already driven back Ninazu’s men. Whatever the result, Eskkar was committed, and they hadn’t much time. He hoped any sentries watching this side of the village would be lax, their attention focused on events happening in front of the main gate.
Precious moments dragged by with no movement or activity from Mitrac. Eskkar couldn’t control his patience. He hated to restrain himself from action when all his instincts urged him to the attack. He started to move forward, when one of Mitrac’s men slipped back to his side. “Come!” he whispered, “Mitrac killed the sentry.”
Eskkar and the others began to move. Crouched over, they crept straight toward the base of the palisade, which they reached in moments. Unlike Akkad, Bisitun had no ditch to give added height to the wooden fence. No alarm had been given yet, but at any moment they could be discovered.
They reached the base of the palisade, hugging close to the rough timbers. Grond and another man unslung the ropes they carried coiled across their chests. One end of each rope had been fitted with a short block of wood, wide enough to secure the line against the top of the palisade. Mitrac had already scaled the fence, boosted up by his companion, and now stood guard atop the barrier.
Grond tossed the two ropes up, and Mitrac wedged the wooden blocks behind the tops of the logs. The two archers started climbing, the timbers creaking under their weight, though they hoped not loud enough to attract any attention.
Eskkar could barely contain himself. The sounds of fighting had increased from the direction of the main gate. Or perhaps the defenders cheered their own victory. Either way, Eskkar could no longer tolerate doing nothing. If Sisuthros had not held the camp, if he had not driven back Ninazu’s men… no, it was too late to worry about that.
The instant the two archers disappeared overhead, Eskkar grabbed one of the ropes and began to climb. Grond pushed him from below, and the rough wood of the stockade gave Eskkar some purchase, the vertical beams creaking a little louder under his heavier weight. He reached the top, and one of the archers waiting there pulled him over.
Eskkar dropped down to his knee and looked about, until he saw Mitrac kneeling on the rampart a few steps away. The bodies of two men lay in front of him, but already the arrows had been pulled or broken off from their bodies. The silhouette of an arrow sticking out of a corpse was too easy to identify, even at night. Eskkar crept over to the archer.
“What do you see?” Eskkar asked softly.
“Two more sentries up ahead, but they face the front of the village,”
Mitrac whispered. He held his bow at an angle, with an arrow fitted to the string. “They’re staring at the main gate.”
Even as Eskkar glanced in that direction, he saw some flames shoot up into the sky. Crouched down, he couldn’t see the front of the village. Suddenly a flaming arrow streaked up into the sky and fell over the wall. He grunted in satisfaction at the signal. Sisuthros and his forces had not only held the camp, they’d driven back the attackers and started counterattack-ing the village with fire arrows.
Using the black oil that Drakis had brought up from Akkad, Sisuthros’s men had made a hundred fire arrows, wrapping cotton thickly around the shaft, binding it with linen threads, and soaking the tufts in oil. When touched to fire, the cotton would burst into flame, a flame so hot that not even the arrow’s flight through the air could extinguish it.
The palisade behind him creaked again, and Eskkar turned to see Grond come over the wall, the last man to make the ascent. Eskkar looked down at the village beneath him. The inner rampart stood only about ten feet off the ground, and even in the dim starlight, he could see a lane that seemed to lead toward the front of the village. The smell of a slaughter-house reached him, and he could see animal pens below. A few houses backed against the enclosure.
The village remained indistinct in the darkness, lit here and there by torches or watch fires, but dawn approached and already the eastern sky seemed a bit less dark. As he watched, villagers emerged from the houses, roused from their sleep by the noise, talking excitedly and all looking in the direction of the main gate.
That might change at any moment, and Eskkar had to get his soldiers off the rampart. He turned to Grond. “Get the men down now.” Moving as he spoke, Eskkar grasped the edge of the rampart, and swung to the ground. His men joined him, all except Mitrac, who called softly to his two archers. Eskkar paused briefly, watching, as the three bowmen stood up, drew their bows, and launched their arrows at the sentries who guarded the next position on the palisade.
He heard a faint cry, followed by the sound of a body thudding to the earth, but nothing more, no outcry or alarm. Mitrac, followed by his two men, paced slowly along the rampart. Anyone giving them a casual glance would take them for sentries. Ignoring the rampart for now, Eskkar started off, striding with authority, followed by Grond and eleven other men. It took only a few paces before they had to push their way past the first confused villagers.
Nothing distinguished them from any of Ninazu’s men. In the darkness, they would seem merely another group of Ninazu’s followers, moving toward the main gate. Eskkar saw one man’s mouth open in surprise as he shrank back from them, but the man said nothing, and in a moment they’d moved well past. The lane forked and Eskkar didn’t know which way to go, so he grabbed the first villager he encountered, an older man whose white hair shone in the dim light.
As Eskkar’s hand tightened on the old man’s arm, the man froze, helpless, as much from sudden fear at these men as the hard muscles in Eskkar’s grip. “Which way is the quickest to the main gate?”
The man’s mouth opened, but no words came, and Eskkar repeated the question, shaking the man as he did. “Which way!”
The man pointed to the left, and Eskkar kept his grip on the man as they resumed walking, dragging his unwilling guide with him. The lane twisted left and forked again, but this time Eskkar had only to look at the man, and he gestured the way. A few more steps and Eskkar could see his destination. He loosened his grip a little. “Return to your house and keep silent, or I’ll slit your throat!” He pushed the man aside and increased his pace.
Fire blazed from the outer fence, and two watch fires had been lit in fire pits on either side of the gate. Sisuthros’s arrows would have started fires in several places, and now his men, shooting from the darkness, would be targeting any defenders who attempted to put out the flames.
Ninazu’s men had recovered from their shock. Men raced to the ramparts, and cries for water echoed all around them. A dozen villagers, pressed into service, carried buckets of water from the well to extinguish the arrows in the gate.
Eskkar paid no attention to all that, his eyes searching until he saw what he wanted. A house with a low roof that faced the open ground behind the gate. The passage to the house remained closed, but even as Eskkar approached, prepared to put his shoulder to it, the door opened. An elderly woman wearing nothing but a loose shift bumped into him, obviously intending to see what all the commotion was about. Instead, Eskkar pushed her back in, his hand over her mouth to keep her silent, though she seemed too frightened to cry out.
Inside, two more women and some children had roused themselves, fearful at the sounds of fighting that now rang through the village. Grond swept them together into a corner of the hut. “Keep your mouths shut if you want to live,” he ordered.
Meanwhile Eskkar climbed the flimsy ladder that opened on to the roof.
From the housetop, torches and the burning fence illuminated the scene before him. He knelt down, taking everything in as he studied the situation.
The outer palisade blazed in three places, and without immediate water, the fire would soon be unstoppable. Villagers with water buckets rushed about, pouring water down the palisade. On the ground just inside the main gate a dozen men stood, two of them with arrows still protruding from them. Ninazu’s men struggled to fight the fire and the attackers at the same time, while others rounded up more villagers to bring water.
Eskkar noticed plenty of men carrying weapons and standing about, talking loudly and gesturing in frustration. Obviously Ninazu hadn’t lost too many in his attack on the camp. Eskkar guessed that most of the bandits had turned and run back as soon as they realized their foes waited for them. He sought to pick out the leaders, those trying to restore order to the mass of confused and panicky men.
Grond tapped him on the shoulder. All the soldiers had climbed up on the roof and knelt behind him, including Mitrac and his two men. Every Akkadian had a bow, except Eskkar and Grond, who carried only their swords. Eskkar turned to Mitrac. “There, see them, to the right of the gate.
And the one at the well, and those two on the rampart.”
Mitrac nodded as Eskkar pointed out the first targets. Mitrac took over, pushing in front of Eskkar and moving closer to the edge of the roof. Eskkar stepped farther back and shoved the wooden frame that covered the access hole to the roof into place. He didn’t want anyone coming up behind them. The dry rasp of arrows on wood sounded, as Eskkar’s thirteen archers stood up, bows drawn, as Mitrac’s low voice prepared the men for the first release. Then Mitrac drew his own arrow to his ear and released.
Even after all these months, Eskkar still found himself amazed at Mitrac’s skill. He scarcely seemed to aim, and yet the shaft that vanished into the darkness would no doubt find its mark, while another arrow seemed to leap from his quiver to the bowstring. The other men fired as well and immediately the screams started. It would take the defenders a few moments to figure out that they’d been attacked, and many of their leaders would be down before they turned and located their attackers.
The men Mitrac had chosen for this raid had proven themselves among the best archers in the troop, and now, despite being crowded together, they poured arrows into their enemies at a rate that made them seem like twice their number.
The roof gave Eskkar’s men clear shots, and the watch fires burning at the gate provided plenty of light for their shooting. For the defenders, the shafts seemed to come out of the darkness, and at such short range, little more than forty paces, the heavy shafts with their bronze, leaf-shaped points struck with lethal accuracy.
Before a man could count to fifty, the Akkadian archers swept the area beneath the gate clear of defenders, the defenders tripping and scrambling down from the walls, some of them tossing their bows and buckets aside. Out of the corner of his eye, Eskkar made note of every time the closest archer fired. The man had released his tenth arrow before anyone spotted them, and another four volleys were launched before anyone turned a bow against them.
Eskkar couldn’t count that quickly, but he guessed nearly two hundred arrows had been launched, enough to break any small group of men, let alone those still recovering from being defeated by Sisuthros at the camp.
The bandits broke and ran, determined to get out of the killing zone.
With the defenders fleeing, Eskkar called out to Grond, who raised a small trumpet to his lips and blew a long blast that echoed out over the walls and into the darkness. Eskkar heard an answering sound from the Akkadians outside the gate. Sisuthros and his men now pressed their attack in earnest, the trumpet announcing that most of the defenders had abandoned the walls. They screamed and howled like wild men as they charged, every man shouting at the top of his lungs, as ordered. They carried with them the rest of the ropes, and would soon be over the palisade and into the village, even if the gate remained fastened.
Eskkar kept his eyes moving, and finally saw for what he searched. A flash of silver in the flames, and he saw the leader of the defenders on the move. Eskkar cursed the bad luck that let the man survive the archers’ arrows. Now Ninazu would need to be hunted down and killed before he could escape over the fence into the darkness. No, even now, the darkness had started to give way to dawn, and the fi rst rays of the sun already climbed slowly into the heavens. “Grond! Mitrac! Come with me!”
Eskkar ran to the side of the house and swung himself down, Grond, Mitrac and his two archers following him. Ninazu and a group of his men were moving down one of the village streets, already out of sight, and no doubt headed toward the river gate. The bandits’ horses would be kept there, close to the rear gate and the river.
Ninazu had decided to run for it. The bandit leader would have no idea how many soldiers had slipped inside Bisitun, not that it made any difference. With all the casualties his men had taken, the Akkadians now outnumbered them. More important, Ninazu’s men had lost the will to fight. Every bandit’s thought would be on fleeing the village and saving his own skin. To stay meant death. Within hours, the villagers would turn in or denounce any of Ninazu’s men still in Bisitun. Only escape could save them now.
Eskkar didn’t care if a few dozen leaderless bandits escaped, but a man like Ninazu, who could organize and lead others, would only cause more trouble if he remained on the loose. Ninazu must be stopped, before he escaped.
In his younger days, Eskkar believed his strength and skill with a sword had brought men to follow him. Now he knew better. As Trella said, those skills might be useful, but they didn’t make a man a true leader. A good leader, she’d told him, could think months ahead as he bent men to his will.
A great leader, she added, could think years ahead.
Eskkar didn’t consider himself a great leader, but he knew he didn’t want to be chasing Ninazu around the countryside for the next few months.
So now he and his men ran headlong down the lane, ignoring the frightened villagers who screamed and shouted in terror, panicked by the fi res that lit the sky, and worried their entire village might go up in flames.
For the fi rst time that night, Eskkar drew his sword, raising it up over his head as he lowered his shoulder to clear the way whenever some panicked villager blundered into his path. But before they had gone very far, Grond passed Eskkar, whirling his sword overhead, as he opened the way for his captain.
Then the lane widened and converged with the other, and they ran right into Ninazu and his followers. The bandits had started first, but they had the farthest distance to travel, and the two lanes joined here. Eskkar guessed Ninazu had twelve or fifteen men with him, at least three times Eskkar’s group. But these confused men had only flight on their minds.
Half of them kept running, screaming in fear, while the others turned, raising their swords more in surprise than anything else.
Grond struck down two of them with two rapid strokes. Eskkar slashed at another. The man parried the stroke, but the force of the blow took all the fight out of him and he turned and ran. Eskkar and Grond kept running, hardly slowing their pace and still pursuing the fleeing Ninazu and his men.
This time the narrow streets and villages worked to Eskkar’s advantage.
The frightened villagers slowed Ninazu’s men. One of them stumbled, and Grond slashed at the man as he ran past, opening a gaping wound in the man’s shoulder. Another man tried to duck into a house, but a woman peered out from the doorway and they collided. Eskkar struck at the man’s back, and again a scream went up into the night, as the wounded man staggered against the doorframe. Eskkar and Grond ignored their victims.
Wounded bandits would be easy to gather up later.
He and Grond burst into an open area where two lanes joined. Eskkar caught the stable smell even before he heard the animals whinnying in fear of all the shouting and the scent of fire. Someone attempted to rally the bandits at the corral. Three of Ninazu’s men turned to face their pursuers, but others pushed their way into the corral, diving through the enclosure’s fl imsy bars.
Three men or a dozen meant nothing to Eskkar. He and Grond charged ahead like men possessed, each of them shouting at the top of his lungs. They rushed at the bandits. One raised his sword and died when Eskkar’s blade struck twice, once to knock the sword aside and then a killing thrust before the man could recover. The other bandits changed their minds before Grond could reach them, one dropping his sword and diving through the corral.
The screams of horses split the darkness, and one of them reared up, crashing into the corral. The horse’s weight knocked the bars loose, and the frightened animal pushed its way through the gap. Another riderless horse followed. Two more horses loomed up, men clinging to their necks, as Eskkar reached the fence. One horseman swung a sword at Eskkar’s head.
He sprang aside, then dropped low as he thrust his sword into the horse’s rear leg. The horse whinnied in fear and pain, then twisted as its leg gave way, stumbling into the second horse, and sending both riders tumbling to the ground. A third bandit attempted to ride through the cleared opening, but an arrow struck him square in the chest, and the man slid backward off the horse. Eskkar turned his head for a second. Mitrac had caught up to his leader, and stood to the side of the lane, already aiming a second shaft.
All the horses still inside the pen had panicked now, moving away from the entrance of the corral. After they bunched up in the rear, they turned in unison and moved forward once again. Terror-stricken animals would not be easy to mount. Eskkar tried to see past them. The night’s darkness had turned to gray, and in a few more moments the sun would be up. He swore again. He wouldn’t let Ninazu get away now.
“Grond! Mitrac! Shoot the horses!” With those words, Eskkar rose up, bringing the great sword up over his head and striking directly at a horse that suddenly appeared, charging right at him. The horse shied away, just enough for Eskkar to move out of its path even as he struck the blow at the beast’s head. The animal’s cry of agony rose up, its shoulder knocking Eskkar to the ground.
He rolled away, but even before Eskkar regained his feet, the horse had taken an arrow in its neck, the two wounds driving it beyond control.
Another horse went down, then a third, their almost-human cries mixing with the noises of panic from the other beasts. But the remaining horses turned away, moving once again toward the rear of the corral. One animal, riderless, jumped the fence in panic, its hooves kicking the top rail to splinters.
Eskkar looked again into the corral. With the first rays of dawn, he had just enough light to pick out two forms, both of them struggling to hold on to their mounts. Another man lay senseless on the ground, while a fourth pushed himself up from the dirt, trying to get to his knees. One of Mitrac’s arrows took him, and he pitched forward without a sound.
Then three more men from Akkad rushed up behind Eskkar, swords in hand, calling out as they did so. By now, between the dead or dying animals and Eskkar’s men, any chance of escaping from the corral had ended.
“Alive!” Eskkar shouted. “Take them alive!” He wanted Ninazu in one piece if possible, to show the villagers the power of Akkad. Grond shouted something, too, and Mitrac’s young voice cried out, reminding his archers to aim at the horses.
The bandit leader had not given up yet. He and his companion, each holding on to a horse’s halter, pushed against the rear of the corral. In a moment, they’d knocked two of the wooden bars from their fastening.
Immediately the frightened horses took advantage, breaking through this new gap. Ninazu and the last of his followers swung up onto their mounts, hugging the animal’s necks as they urged their beasts into the opening.
But this new passage led directly into a narrow lane, forcing the frightened horses to turn sharply. More chaos ensued as the animals jammed together for a moment. Mitrac and his archers moved forward and loosed their shafts.
One arrow, either on purpose or by mistake, struck one of the escaping men in the back. The other two struck Ninazu’s horse in the haunches, and the animal whinnied in agony, reared up, and crashed into the wall of a house. The flimsy mud bricks gave way, and both man and beast half fell into the dwelling amidst a swirl of dust and crumbled mud. By then, Eskkar had raced through the shambles of the corral, ducking away from one horse that reared up at him and pushing another aside, until he and Grond reached the side lane. “Up on the roof, Grond! Don’t let him escape!”
Grond stepped back, sheathed his sword, and jumped for the top of the house, pulling himself up and out of sight in moments. Eskkar shoved his way past another frightened horse until he reached the rubble of the half-crushed house, the dying animal still struggling to reach its feet. Behind Eskkar, the rest of the half-crazed horses finally broke free, hooves pounding as they made their escape from the smell of blood and death that filled the corral.
He saw Ninazu there, on his knees, barely a shadow in the darkness at the rear of the house, but a sword shone in the faint light. The bandit had nowhere to go, and even now the tip of Grond’s blade glinted at the top of the ladder, the tiny house’s only other exit. Ninazu was trapped.
Mitrac rushed up, as did several more of Eskkar’s men. “Shall I fi nish him, Captain?” He had an arrow on the string.
Eskkar shook his head, but kept his eyes on the trapped man. “Put down your sword, Ninazu,” Eskkar commanded. “You’ve no place to go.”
For an answer, Ninazu leapt to his feet and flung himself at the opening. Eskkar saw Mitrac start to draw the bow and knew that he wouldn’t have time. Eskkar shoved Mitrac to one side, even as he jumped to the other. Ninazu’s blade flashed between them. Eskkar struck at the man’s sword, but Ninazu recovered, then thrust again with his own weapon.
Eskkar’s own sword countered the stroke, though he gave back half a step from the force of it. Ninazu raised his weapon to strike again, a shout on his lips, and charged forward. Then he jerked back, his balance upset, and his sword flailed wildly. Grond had dropped down from the roof, landed on his feet, and leaped on Ninazu from behind, yanking the man back by his hair with one hand as he caught the man’s sword arm with his other.
Eskkar ducked through the jagged opening, his blade pointed up in the ready position. As Ninazu struggled with Grond, Eskkar struck the bandit in the face with the butt of his sword, the thick knob of bronze smashing against the man’s nose, stunning him. Grond tore the sword from Ninazu’s slack fingers, and struck him again with his free hand on the side of his head. Ninazu collapsed like a sack of grain, unconscious before he hit the earth. The fight for Bisitun was over.