Battle For Empire (The Eskkar Saga)

by Sam Barone

  As the news spread, Bekka looked around for Bar’rack, and saw him pacing his horse away in silence. Bekka did not notice that Bar’rack rode not toward where his clansmen sat, but toward the top of the hill, following the path taken by Thutmose-sin.

  “Captain! Wake up.” Hathor shook Eskkar’s shoulder a second time. “There’s a rider coming.”

  Eskkar pulled himself to his feet. After a long day, a sleepless night, and a hard fought battle, he’d hoped to get a few moments rest. A glance at the gray clouds that stretched overhead and blocked the morning sun told him he’d slept only a few moments. A few drops of rain fell from the sky, scattering themselves on the ground.

  “One rider?” Eskkar felt a sudden breeze against his face that pushed the rain aside. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Hathor wouldn’t have roused him for a single warrior.

  “Just one, but I think it’s Thutmose-sin. At least it’s the same gray stallion.”

  A look toward the enemy lines showed a single horsemen picking his way to the bottom of the hill. As Eskkar watched, the warrior brought the horse into an easy canter. By now Eskkar had reached the front ranks of his men. He stared at the approaching rider.

  “That’s Thutmose-sin, all right. And carrying a lance.”

  Mitrac stepped to the King’s side, his great bow already strung, waiting for the order to shoot. “He’s almost in range.”

  Eskkar shook his head. He felt curious at the rider’s steady pace toward the Akkadians as did the rest of his men. All had climbed to their feet, shifting positions and shading their eyes against the rising sun, wondering if this portended another attack.

  Thutmose-sin reached the place where the chiefs and Eskkar had met yesterday, but he kept riding toward them.

  “He’s in long range now, Captain,” Mitrac said. “I can have twenty archers ready to shoot. One of us will bring him down.”

  “No.” This time Eskkar used his command voice, the tone that brooked no argument. “Tell your men to hold their arrows.”

  A hundred and fifty paces from the stream, Thutmose-sin halted his horse. He hefted the lance over his shoulder, then threw it in a high arc toward the Akkadians. The slim missile dug into the earth about seventy or eighty paces short of the stream. Then the stallion reared up on its hind legs, thrusting its front hooves at the Akkadians before crashing down to the earth.

  “I am Thutmose-sin, Sarum of the Alur Meriki.” The powerful voice, full of authority, rolled across the stream and echoed off the cliff. “I come to challenge Eskkar of Akkad to fight me to the death. If he is not afraid, let him come forth and face me with a sword in his hand.”

  “By the gods,” Hathor muttered. “Is he mad?”

  “No, not mad.” Eskkar understood what must have happened. “He’s ready to die. By now his warriors have abandoned him. He led them to defeat, and he cannot rule them any longer.”

  “Then let’s kill him now,” Hathor said. “Mitrac’s archers can finish him off. One volley will do it.”

  Eskkar considered it. He had nothing to gain by accepting Thutmose-sin’s challenge. And the warrior was offering nothing for victory or defeat. The time for that had passed. Only a warrior’s honor remained.

  “You’re not thinking of riding out there.” Alexar, too, had wakened from a brief sleep and joined the other commanders. “If he’s desperate enough to throw his life away, let Mitrac’s archers finish him.”

  “Perhaps you’re right.” Movement on the hilltop caught Eskkar’s eye, and he saw warriors filling up the crest of the hill.

  “Look!” Alexar pointed toward the hill. “They’re getting ready to attack again.”

  But the distant warriors made no hostile moves. No bows or lances waved in the air, no shouts of bravado.

  “They know he’s a dead man,’ Eskkar said, “but Thutmose-sin is carrying what’s left of their honor.”

  By now warriors covered the hilltop, some on horseback, but most on foot. Not as many as yesterday, but probably every warrior who could walk or drag himself onto the back of a horse was up there, waiting to see how Thutmose-sin would be treated.

  Eskkar made up his mind. He couldn’t let this challenge to his honor go unmet. Besides, if he ordered Thutmose-sin shot down like a wild dog, the barbarians would fight to the death, and many more Akkadians would die. Perhaps there might be another way.

  “No one is to shoot at that man. No one, do you hear?” Eskkar made eye contact with each of commanders, to be sure everyone understood his words. “Hathor, send for my horse. I’m going to meet him.”

  “Are you as mad as he?” Hathor demanded. “There’s no reason . . .”

  “Yes, there is, and maybe a good one. This is about more than honor. Do as I ask.”

  Eskkar slung his sword over his shoulder. One of the soldiers had cleaned it after last night’s fighting, but Eskkar checked to make sure the blade drew easily. Another soldier ran up to him, leading A-tuku.

  Eskkar checked the halter himself, making sure the rope was firmly in place, but without undue stress on the animal’s head. He patted the stallion on his neck, and let the horse nuzzle his face. His life might depend on his mount in a few moments. Satisfied, Eskkar swung himself onto the horse’s back and let it paw the ground as it adjusted to its master’s weight.

  “Give me a lance,” Eskkar ordered. “And no matter what happens, do not kill Thutmose-sin. His warriors will fight to death if he dies in dishonor. Even if he kills me, his own warriors will finish him.”

  Before Eskkar could get the horse in motion, the leader of his Hawk Clan bodyguards, Chandor, stepped forward and grabbed the halter. “My Lord, I cannot let you do this. Let me ride out and kill this man for you.”

  Another of Eskkar’s personal guard, a grizzled veteran named Pekka, grasped the other side of the halter. “My Lord, Lady Trella ordered us to stop you from taking risks like this. She insisted . . .”

  Eskkar’s face hardened, and he stared at the man. The soldier blanched at the force of Eskkar’s determination.

  “Please, My Lord, I meant no offense.” Pekka shrank back and released the halter.

  Even here, hundreds of miles from Akkad and in the middle of a battle, his wife exerted her influence and his men showed their respect for her wishes. “Stand aside, both of you. This is not some foolish challenge. I need to do this, and only I know what must be done.”

  He spoke the words with force, in a tone that few dared to resist or argue against. Before either of them could think about what to do, Eskkar touched his heels to his mount, and the powerful animal moved forward. Chandor’s hands slipped from the halter, as he lowered his head.

  “Alexar! Mitrac! Hathor! Make sure everyone obeys my command.” Eskkar called the order over his shoulder. “No one is to leave the ranks.”

  Without waiting for an acknowledgment, Eskkar paced his way down toward the stream, taking his time. This was dangerous and he wanted time to think. Thutmose-sin had nothing to lose. For him, victory or death were the same. Not that the warrior expected to survive. Even if he killed Eskkar, Thutmose-sin must know that the Akkadian bowmen would cut him down. All he wanted was one last chance for revenge, and to die with honor.

  Again Eskkar halted the bay in the middle of the stream, letting A-tuku slurp a few noisy mouthfuls before pulling up on the halter. He allowed the horse to choose its path across the stream and a few paces beyond. Then Eskkar hefted the lance in his right hand, leaned back, and hurled it toward the Alur Meriki lance jutting into the air. Eskkar’s missile landed just beside that of Thutmose-sin, a good throw. The challenge had been made and now accepted.

  Once again, Eskkar touched his heels to his horse, and let the animal pick its way through the rocks. Bodies lay strewn everywhere, the dead lying face down, many with arrows in their back. Others stared sightlessly into the sky, arrows protruding from their wounds, blood trails and pools marking the ground. Flies buzzed low over the bodies, and carrion birds swooped down from the sky.

 
Step by step, Eskkar moved forward. He reached the place where the lances had dug themselves into the earth and halted. Thutmose-sin now paced his horse forward, giving Eskkar time to study both man and animal.

  Thutmose-sin was a dangerous fighter. Eskkar knew that from personal experience. But Eskkar had practiced much since that night battle at the fire wagons outside of Orak, and his skills had increased. Both men were much the same age, so that wouldn’t matter.

  After last night’s fight, Thutmose-sin would be more weary than Eskkar, and while his wounds might be minor, they, too, would weaken him. No, the approaching rider might be a deadly opponent, but the big gray stallion warranted as much concern as its master.

  No matter how much time Eskkar had spent training A-tuku, Thutmose-sin’s horse had seen many more fights. A huge brute, it stood at least a hand and half taller than A-tuku. It would respond to its master’s slightest touch.

  Eskkar’s mount looked sleepy and slow compared to the gray. But A-tuku’s appearance was deceiving. The bay, too, would respond to Eskkar’s commands, and no other horse in Hathor’s cavalry, no matter what its size, had stood against it.

  At least in training, Eskkar reminded himself. A-tuku had never fought a battle, while the gray must have many such encounters.

  Thutmose-sin stopped about fifteen paces from Eskkar. “I didn’t think you would dare come out to face me. You escaped my sword once, but this time you will not be so lucky. You should have let your archers cut me down.”

  Eskkar shrugged. “That would have given strength to your warriors. Now they will watch you die at my hand. You led them to defeat last night, and with your death, they will once again know defeat. They will not have the stomach to face us again.”

  A grimace of rage twisted Thutmose-sin’s face. “No, my warriors will see me slay you, the mighty Eskkar of Akkad, and they will take courage.” Without haste, he reached up and drew his sword.

  Eskkar made no move toward his weapon. “Tell me of the death of my father, Hogarthak. I have never learned the truth of what happened that night.”

  A look of surprise come over Thutmose-sin’s face, and he lowered his sword. “Why should I tell you anything?”

  “What can it matter after all these years,” Eskkar said, his voice still calm. He had not drawn his sword.

  “It doesn’t. Nothing matters now.” Thutmose-sin took a deep breath. “I was not there the night my older brother, Seluku, died. But after our fight at the fire wagons, I asked the elders what had happened to your family. It seems my father, Maskim-Xul wanted to absorb the warriors of the Hawk Clan into his own. I suppose your clan leader Jamal had grown in influence or done something to make my father jealous. My father ordered Seluku, his war chief, to challenge Jamal at the Council Meeting. Your father was there, a leader of twenty, attending his clan leader.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Eskkar said. “My father never returned to his wagons after the day’s ride.”

  This time Thutmose-sin shrugged. “My brother offered the challenge to Jamal, and the old man, stung by Seluku’s insults, accepted it. But Seluku chose not to fight himself. He ordered his guards to kill your clan leader. They attacked, and your father guarded Jamal’s back. When Jamal took a wound and dropped his sword, Seluku stepped forward to deliver the killing blow. Your father exposed his own back, and struck from underneath Jamal’s arm before your clan leader fell. Hogarthak drove his blade into Seluku’s stomach, and then was killed by the other guards. My father flew into one of his rages. Seluku was dying the slow death, crying out in pain, so my father ended Seluku’s life himself. Then he ordered everyone in Jamal’s family and yours to be put to death. Somehow you killed a guard and escaped.”

  Eskkar took a deep breath. So that was how it happened. He’d suspected something like that all these years, but at least now he knew the truth. Not only had his father died honorably, but he had slain the son of the Great Chief, Maskim-Xul.

  “Is there any more to tell?”

  “No, only that your mother clawed out the eyes of another guard before she died. Your brother and sister were slain as payment for my brother’s death. You should have died that night as well. Instead you ran away and became a dirt eater. Now you have the blood of your own kind on your hands.”

  That night, Eskkar had seen his brother and mother die, but had been too busy fighting for his life to really know what was going on.

  “Then my father died with honor, defending his clan leader.”

  Thutmose-sin laughed, a bitter sound wrenched from his belly. “Seluku was a pig, and I despised him. Your father’s deed made me Sarum five years later. So I suppose I should thank him for that.”

  “And now I’ve ended your rule as Sarum,” Eskkar said. “So the circle is complete. With your death, my father’s spirit will be satisfied.” He lowered his shoulder and slid the long sword from its scabbard.

  “We will see whose spirit lives on with honor, outcast!”

  Eskkar never saw the movement or word that launched the gray forward. One moment the horse had been standing there stolidly, the next it was charging at full speed. Eskkar reacted almost as fast. A kick of his heels as he thrust the halter forward, and A-tuku jumped into motion.

  The normal reaction was to turn slightly to the left, so that each rider’s sword arm could strike freely. But Eskkar nudged the halter to the right. A-tuku leapt in front of Thutmose-sin’s charging stallion, and Eskkar swung the long sword across his body to strike at his onrushing enemy’s left side.

  Caught by surprise, Thutmose-sin barely whipped his sword over to his left, and while he parried the blow, the force of Eskkar’s cut almost knocked the warrior from his mount.

  A cheer arose from the Akkadians at the stroke, while on the far hillside, the Alur Meriki line shifted uneasily at the exchange. Both riders wheeled their horses around and charged again. Thutmose-sin’s blade rose up in the air, but Eskkar leaned forward along A-tuku’s neck, sword extended like a lance.

  Yesterday, Eskkar had taken the measure of the leader of the Alur Meriki, and Eskkar decided he had a few finger width’s in height, and perhaps even more in the length of his arms. With his sword held high, Thutmose-sin had to strike early to knock Eskkar’s blade aside as the two fighters hurled past each other. It took the full strength of Thutmose-sin’s blow to deflect Eskkar’s weapon.

  Another cheer arose from the ranks of Eskkar’s men, as the two riders wheeled to face each other a third time. But this time, they were too close to get the horses to a gallop. The two fighters came together, and the clash of bronze on bronze echoed from the hills.

  Once, twice, three times each man struck at his opponent or parried the other’s attack, before the two were forced to ride apart to maintain control of their mounts. This time Eskkar had to yield ground to recover, as Thutmose-sin’s stallion, despite its size, proved quicker in these short turnings.

  A-tuku, however, snorted in anger. The big gray had tried to bite A-tuku’s neck. The two fighters separated, opening a gap of about twenty paces before they gathered themselves for another attack.

  “Straight at him, A-tuku,” Eskkar muttered, just loud enough for the bay to hear his words. “Show that stallion what you’re made of.”

  Once again Thutmose-sin launched the attack, and Eskkar kicked his mount forward. He let A-tuku take two good strides, then turned him to the right, as he had in the first encounter. He held his course just long enough for Thutmose-sin to recognize Eskkar’s intent. Thutmose-sin turned his to the left, to keep Eskkar on his right side.

  But Eskkar jerked the halter back, and A-tuku’s move to the right lasted only the briefest moment. A-tuku shifted his stride and lowered his head. The fighters were too close to each other for either to turn aside.

  The two horses met in a mighty collision. Both A-tuku and Eskkar had trained for this type of attack, and the bay’s right shoulder struck hard into the stallion’s forequarters. The gray, knocked to a standstill, cried out at the force of the con
tact and staggered back on his haunches.

  Expecting the collision, Eskkar, his legs gripping the horse’s sides with all his strength, had managed to hang on to his seat, his halter-hand clinging with a death grip to A-tuku’s mane. But Thutmose-sin, his wild swing coming within a hand’s breath of Eskkar’s head, was flung off his mount and landed hard onto the earth.

  A-tuku recovered his footing and needed no urging to move to the attack, launching himself directly at the unhorsed man. Before Thutmose-sin could get to his knees, Eskkar’s sword was descending, a powerful stroke made even stronger by the horse’s movement.

  Thutmose-sin managed to get his sword up, but Eskkar’s weapon scarcely slowed as it brushed aside Thutmose-sin’s blade. The finest bronze weapon in Akkad, swung with all of Eskkar’s strength, struck the warrior’s left shoulder and bit deep into flesh and bone.

  Thutmose-sin’s cry of pain echoed off the cliff before it reached the hilltop. Eskkar’s momentum took him past his enemy, but he quickly wheeled A-tuku around.

  Eskkar’s blow had knocked Thutmose-sin once again to the ground. This time blood covered his left shoulder, running freely down his chest. The man still clutched his sword, however, as he struggled to his knees.

  Eskkar slid down from his mount and strode across the bare ground. He didn’t want to risk an injury to A-tuku by attacking someone so low to the ground. Thutmose-sin might be wounded, but he could yet strike a heavy blow.

  As Eskkar approached, he saw the extent of Thutmose-sin’s wound. A glimpse of white revealed the bone in the warrior’s shoulder, and a strip of flesh hung from his arm. With so much blood spurting from the wound, nothing could save him. He would be dead soon.

  “You’re dying, Thutmose-sin. You should have trained your horse better. Now I will avenge my father Hogarthak, and my kin.”

  “Then come and finish me if you dare, you . . . outcast!”

  Eskkar raised his sword up. Thutmose-sin struck upwards, aiming at his enemy’s groin, but Eskkar had expected it. He twisted aside, and his sword whirled down and struck at Thutmose-sin’s right arm, the sharp edging cutting into the man’s hand. The weapon tumbled to the ground.