by Sam Barone
As he walked among them, he saw their sightless eyes, their hands raised up and frozen in death, lips drawn back, and their faces surrounded by pools of blood already turned black. All the familiar postures of violent death lay at his feet.
He recalled seeing the same poses after the Battle of Isin, when thousands of dead, dying, and wounded lay scattered across the long battle line. Here the corpses were close together, many piled up two and three deep, where men had died even as they tried to scramble over their fallen companions, either to continue the attack or seek safety.
The dead Elamites had already been stripped of their weapons and valuables, and all the usable arrows recovered by Eskkar’s soldiers. The dead always gave all their possessions to the victors. Swords, bows, arrows, knives, shields, anything useful had been carried back to the Akkadian lines. Only the bodies remained, along with the harsh smell of human waste, everything covered with flies.
Eskkar felt no sympathy for the enemy dead. Unlike these men, he had not gone to war seeking loot or glory. Elamites had come into his lands to wrest from Akkad everything and anything they could. Better that they died here than outside Akkad’s walls.
And here, in front of the Akkadian battle line and among the Elamite dead, Eskkar could find the privacy he wanted.
Ignoring the flies that buzzed around his head, Eskkar collected his thoughts as he paced back and forth across the killing ground. His soldiers deserved . . . no, needed to know why they had been brought to this place to fight and possibly die. Until now, they’d followed orders without question, proof enough of their trust in Eskkar and his commanders. Today, before the next battle, Eskkar wanted to find the right words.
Petra and Chandra, mystified by their Captain’s behavior, trailed behind, probably wondering what thoughts were in his mind. Nevertheless their commander, walking through the enemy dead, found the silence he needed to prepare his words.
For more than a year, Eskkar had studied everything he could about the enemy’s tactics. Nothing he had gleaned from the merchants, informers, travelers, and spies suggested the Elamites possessed any exceptional or predominant fighting techniques – they relied primarily on their superior numbers, flanking maneuvers with their cavalry, and a brutal frontal attack driven home by their ruthless commanders. They preferred giving battle when they outnumbered opponents three or four to one, overwhelming any opposition by quick charges and flanking attacks.
Eskkar glanced down the slope, and allowed himself a grim smile as he watched the Elamites push and shove their men into position and ready themselves for another assault. By choosing to fight in the Pass with its high cliff walls, he had eliminated the threat of being encircled or attacked from the side.
As the first skirmish proved, his enemy had never encountered a situation where they couldn’t sweep an opponent’s flanks. Their greater numbers would prove to be less effective as long as he could match them man-to-man along the battle line.
No, only the direct frontal assault remained for the Elamites, and Eskkar’s Akkadians would have to withstand that. He and Trella had done everything they could to provide their soldiers with all the food, water, and weapons needed. Most of these men had trained for this battle for more than a year without knowing why. Now everything would be up to the few lines of infantry and archers that stood between the Elamites and the city of Akkad.
His men had another slight advantage. The enemy troops, made up from so many disparate sources, lacked the training to work together as a cohesive whole. Because Elamite soldiers lived apart and trained separately, each contingent would prefer to see another in the front ranks. After the last encounter, no one would want to lead the attack against Eskkar’s position.
That lack of unity and discipline now showed as the enemy jostled about, taking far longer than they should to form up into proper ranks. Akkad, with most of its forces raised and trained near the city, had none of those problems.
All warfare, Eskkar understood, relied to some extent on deception. And so Akkad had spread rumors about disagreements in the Land Between the Rivers, its lack of men and resources, and its quarrels between the cities, and their unwillingness to fight. Faced with such situations, the Elamites had assumed an inevitable victory. Instead, they suddenly found themselves committed to battle on Eskkar’s terms, and not their own.
Those rumors and lies had guided the Elamites for many months, and brought Lord Modran to this place. If he retreated, his campaign would be lost, no matter what happened at Sumer. Nor would he keep his command very long, or even his head, should he return to King Shirudukh without a victory.
Eskkar had offered Lord Modran the bait, setting the battle line here in the Dellen Pass. As soon as Modran encountered Akkad’s soldiers in the last place he expected them to be, Modran should have turned his army around and retreated back through the Pass. If he’d returned to Zanbil at once, he could have gathered enough shields and supplies, before re-entering the Pass. If he had done that, even if it took a month to reassemble and march back, Modran and his army would likely have prevailed.
Instead, after the encounter of two days ago, Modran now had to press ahead, whatever his casualties. He dared not retreat after such losses. He had to break the Akkadian line, or face King Shirudukh’s wrath. Today would decide whether Modran and his men had the will to overcome Akkad’s discipline and training.
Midday approached, and Eskkar smiled at the enemy’s slow preparations for the coming attack. He had expected to fight early this morning, with the sun in his eyes, but the Elamites had taken far longer to arrange their forces, and before long the sun’s bright rays would have little effect.
His own men had greeted the dawn in their battle lines, in case Lord Modran’s forces chose to attack at first light. Since then, the Akkadians remained at their posts, sitting or standing as they pleased, their weapons strewn about the rocky ground at their feet. Many soldiers moved about, stretching tense muscles, or sharpening their swords. Some of the spearmen, likely to cover their nervousness, stepped into the open space and practiced with their weapons.
Regardless, the Elamites would soon be advancing, and Eskkar decided the time had come to talk to his soldiers. He wanted them to know not only what to expect in the coming battle, but more important, the reasons why they fought. And he’d wanted to tell them at the last moment, so that no one could forget his words, or what was at stake – the very life and death of Akkad.
Today was, as Trella had reminded him, one of those special times when he had to address his troops, and give his men a reason to fight. Most soldiers, Eskkar knew, fought only as hard as required. No fighter wanted to die attempting to do more than necessary. For this battle, however, Eskkar knew his men would have to fight beyond even their own expectations.
His thoughts arranged, Eskkar left the field of the dead. Walking briskly, he returned to the Akkadian lines, passing through the infantry and archers until he reached the place where the commanders’ horses waited. Eskkar swung onto A-tuku’s back.
He took a moment to arrange his cloak so that it draped properly over his shoulders. A bronze breastplate, with the image of a desert hawk etched upon its surface, protected his chest. Another plate covered his back, fastened to the breastplate by leather laces over his shoulders and around his waist.
The bronze armor, thick enough to stop an arrow or turn aside a sword stroke, fitted Eskkar’s tall frame perfectly. Trella had seen to that. Countless sessions with Akkad’s best metal workers ensured that the armor hugged Eskkar’s body without restricting his movements.
Thick leather gauntlets guarded each forearm, from wrist to elbow. Last, Eskkar slung his long horse sword across his back, the hilt jutting up over his right shoulder. A bronze helmet completed his armor, but for now, Eskkar left it with his guards, letting his long hair frame his face.
Taking his time, Eskkar guided A-tuku back through the ranks of cavalry, archers, and infantry. The soldiers moved aside to give the King room to pass. Once pa
st the formation, Eskkar let the horse take a few more steps before he guided it around and faced his men.
Silence fell over the ranks. Slowly the shuffling of feet ceased, and every eye turned toward the King. Since Eskkar preferred talking to his soldiers in small groups, his men knew to expect something important.
Eskkar understood that the right words might inspire the men. He also understood that the wrong words might weaken their resolve. More than a few of his soldiers had no fighting experience, and fear would be gnawing at their hearts. To fight against so numerous an adversary took both courage and trust. Words could make a difference.
At such critical times, Eskkar had often struggled to control his nervousness at addressing so many. But now he felt calm, and he knew the words would come without hesitation.
With a final pat on A-tuku’s shoulder, Eskkar took a deep breath. From his position at the center of the line, his voice would carry to either side of the Pass.
“Men of Akkad.” He looked left and right, and saw that everyone had given him their attention. “Today we fight to save our city, and our lands, from the Elamite invasion. Many of you have wondered why we chose this place to give battle, instead of waiting behind our walls with our friends and families.”
“And in the alehouses!” The rude words came from one of the archers, leaning on his bow.
The men laughed, and Eskkar smiled broadly, despite the interruption. This was no crowd of farmers or tavern keepers, sheep to be ordered about in silence, but brave and independent fighters. He had fought and trained with these men, some of them for years, and they had earned the right to speak their minds, even if only in jest. In his turn, Eskkar would tell the truth to them, and they would understand.
“The alehouses will be waiting when we get back home. But to save Akkad, we must first drive these Elamites back down the Pass. Your commanders and I, and Lady Trella, have planned many months for this day. We knew more than a year ago that this invasion was coming. After we took count of our soldiers and our defenses, we realized that, trapped behind Akkad’s walls, we could not withstand such a vast army as now faces us.”
Eskkar told them about the three-pronged invasion forces now marching into the Land Between the Rivers. “Hathor, with our cavalry, has joined together with Isin and Sumer, to break the siege of Sumer. The Elamite horsemen coming through the Jkarian Pass, will be turned back by Engineer Alcinor and his artisans. However here, we must face the brunt of the Elamites. We are greatly outnumbered, but the narrow width of the Pass ensures that we cannot be flanked, and that the enemy cannot overrun us by sheer numbers.”
He let his eyes roam the ranks, and saw no signs of anything more than the usual nervousness that preceded every battle. “Our enemy is unprepared for this fight, while we have trained for nothing else. From Akkad, Lady Trella continues to send us what we need to fight. The Elamites are many, but they have only a few days supply of food and water. Nor will they be able to resupply from their own storehouses. By now, Sargon and a large force of Alur Meriki and Ur Nammu warriors have crossed the northern mountains and fallen upon the Elamite villages and supply lines.”
That brought some murmurs from the assembled host. Many had wondered why Sargon was not at his father’s side. Others wondered why not even a small force of Ur Nammu warriors had come to fight beside them, as they had done in the war against Sumer.
Eskkar held up his hand to quiet the men. “That means the enemy will fight here only with what they brought, and with each day that we hold them off, they will grow weaker and weaker. Though we Akkadians chose to fight here, we do not fight alone. The cities of Sumer, Isin, and the others in the Land Between the Rivers stand with us, even as we stand with them.”
Another cheer broke out, and Eskkar waited a few moments. “So it only remains for us to break the Elamites’ will. When they first came into this Pass, they expected us to tremble in fear at the sight of them and their numbers. They thought they could brush us aside without effort. Instead, we killed many and drove them back. Now it is they who know fear. They ran from our arrows and spears, and today they will dread every step they take toward our lines.”
He gestured down the slope. “Look at their dead, lying in their path. They will trod on their own kind, and know what fate awaits them. When we break their attack here, when they see that they cannot pass, they will be forced to return to their own lands, desperate for food and water. It will be many years, if ever, before they dare to challenge Akkad’s soldiers and the Land Between the Rivers!”
“Akkad! Akkad! Akkad!” The soldiers gave voice to their pride, and this time the shouts continued. Eskkar held up his hand, and at last they grew quiet. “We’ve won the first battle. But today, each of you must fight not only for yourselves and the man standing beside you, but for all your comrades here. Remember your families back home. If we fail here, your families and friends in Akkad will suffer slavery and death. You must fight with as much strength as if we stood atop the city’s walls. You will show these invaders the might of the soldiers of Akkad.”
Eskkar drew his sword and raised it high. “And today, I will fight beside you, and the Elamites will break themselves on our shield wall.” Eskkar took another deep breath, and then, in his most powerful command voice, bellowed out the challenge. “We will not let the Elamites pass!”
Knowing their King would fight beside them brought a roar of assent that echoed off the cliff walls. The spearmen joined in, striking their thick weapons against their shields, until the noise turned into a savage drumming that elevated the men’s shouts to a new crescendo that seemed like it would never cease. The din, amplified by the cliff walls, rolled down the Pass.
Eskkar glanced over his shoulder. He saw the Elamites staring up at the Akkadians, uneasy about this challenge, wondering what it meant, and more than a little nervous about what was to come. “Akkadians! Remember only this – kill the man in front of you! No one, not I, not Akkad, not your companions, will ask more than that!”
Another roar went up. Eskkar turned A-tuku’s head and rode up and down the line. “Akkad! Akkad!” He shouted the war cry again and again, and the soldiers repeated the name, louder and louder, until it appeared the very walls of the Pass had joined in the refrain. The sound echoed from the cliffs with such force that it seemed that they would collapse in on them.
Satisfied, Eskkar rode back through the formation. Dismounting, he ordered A-tuku taken to the rear, along with his cloak and long sword. That weapon would be of little use in close combat. The Elamites, now shouting their own war cries, had finally started to move. Eskkar pulled his leather-lined bronze helmet over his head, and laced the straps under his chin.
The heavy metal protected most of his forehead, while two long strips of bronze covered his temples, and reached nearly to the bottom of his ears. Belting his shorter sword around his waist, he accepted his shield from Pekka, and moved behind the ranks of the infantry at the center of the line.
It would be the most dangerous position within the formation, the place where the battle line would be most likely to sag, and Eskkar wanted the men beside him to be aware of his presence. The Elamites would have to kill Akkad’s king if they wanted to break Eskkar’s spearmen.
All this had been planned earlier with his commanders. Mitrac commanded the archers, and once again he would launch the arrow storm the moment the Elamites drew within range. His bowmen needed no further orders on how to pick their targets, or when to shoot.
Alexar had the left flank, anchored by the rocks and with the slingers above him. Drakis commanded the right flank, with the high cliff walls at his side. Both he and Alexar had support from the picked bowmen on Franar’s platforms.
Muta would hold some of his cavalry in reserve, but the rest, with their shorter bows, would fight dismounted, to augment Mitrac’s archers at closer range. Muta would also send the reserves into position as needed. Shappa, too, had already received his orders – hold the rocky flank and make certain no Elamit
es worked their way through the boulders.
Eskkar turned his attention to the invaders, on the move at last. Like a flowing river of men, they advanced through the Pass, crossing the low point and then beginning the gradual rise that led, six hundred paces ahead, to the ranks of the Akkadians. Despite their first repulse, the Elamites looked confident enough. They knew they had the advantage in numbers.
The forces of Akkad took up their positions. No shouts of bravado any longer. As they had trained, they readied themselves in silence, the better to hear the orders of their commanders. That very silence, Eskkar knew, would unsettle the enemy. He had learned that in the lands of the Elamites, both sides would shout their challenges before the fighting began, each hoping to frighten their opponent.
The invaders started up the slope, the first rank holding their shields to the front, while those behind raised shields overhead to protect against the descending arrows. The Akkadian infantry, too, waited patiently. By now less than four hundred paces separated the two armies.
Eskkar glanced at Mitrac, standing behind his bowmen, bow in his left hand with an arrow already fitted to the string, while his right hand blocked the sun’s rays from his eyes. If he saw Eskkar’s glance, Mitrac ignored it. When he deemed the enemy was within range, Mitrac would give the command to unleash the arrow storm.
The Elamites increased their pace, gathering momentum and preparing to come to grips with the Akkadians. Then Eskkar heard the enemy battle horn echo up the slope, and with a shout, the mass of Elamites started moving faster and faster.
Nonetheless, Mitrac’s clear voice carried up and down the line. “Remember, shaft to the string, string to the ear, and arrow to the mark.”
That adage had been part of the men’s training for more than ten years. It reminded the archers to make sure they fit the shaft properly to the bowstring, and then fully draw the weapon, so that the arrow would be launched with the maximum force. Eskkar heard many of the bowmen repeating the saying, as if to take strength from their commander’s words.