Battle For Empire (The Eskkar Saga)

by Sam Barone

  The thought of her looking at him while he lay there naked brought a flush to his face. How odd. He hadn’t been embarrassed by a girl’s thoughts or deeds for at least two seasons.

  “I have to return to Chinua’s tent to borrow some clothes.” He sat up, and glanced around, searching for the remains of his tunic. It must have floated away.

  “You will not need to borrow. Your father left several garments with Chinua before he departed. They are yours now. Come. I’ll go with you.”

  She reached down her hand, and helped him to his feet. His erection still loomed. It felt as though it would release his seed at the slightest touch. Sargon grimaced. He couldn’t walk through the camp like that.

  “Wait a moment.” He turned and dove back into the stream, diving deep until he touched the sandy bottom before he rose up and burst through the surface. Sargon took a few vigorous strokes until the effort combined with the chill of the water softened his excitement.

  When he emerged, Tashanella shook her head at his foolishness. Without a word, she started back toward the camp and Chinua’s tent. Sargon followed a few steps behind, shaking the water from his hair.

  A man or boy walking naked through the camp usually meant nothing. Sargon had walked naked to and from the stream before, as did other warriors and even a few of the women. This time it was different. Today, anyone who saw him, saw the both of them, would notice more than just the fact that he wore no garments.

  It looked, he realized, like a woman leading her lover back to her tent. He wondered what Subutai would do if he encountered Sargon and his daughter like this. Thinking of her father brought back Tashanella’s words. What advice from Sargon could the leader of the clan want? The last of Sargon’s erection disappeared even faster than it had risen.

  Outside Chinua’s tent, Sargon found the women busy preparing for tonight’s feast. The young girls and maidens smiled as his body, laughing or blushing depending on their age, while Chinua’s two wives merely glanced up at his arrival.

  Nibiru, the older of Chinua’s wives, sat near the family’s big cooking pot, a small knife in her hand chopping mushrooms against a flat stone. Behind her, two rabbit skins were drying on a stretching board. Nibiru had almost the same number of seasons as her husband.

  “Sargon, you’re supposed to be at Subutai’s tent. He sent a boy here to look for you.” She pretended to notice Tashanella for the first time, and couldn’t keep the smile from her face.

  “I know, Nibiru. I need a garment. Tashanella says that you have some that belong to me.”

  “Chinua said . . .” Nibiru glanced at Tashanella again and changed her mind. “Yes, there’s a bundle in the tent.” She dropped the knife, tossed the mushroom slices into the cooking pot, and rose.

  Sargon followed her into the tent. To his surprise, Tashanella entered it, too.

  Nibiru picked up a scrap of cloth and handed it to Sargon. “Dry yourself.” Then she searched underneath some blankets and sacks until she found Sargon’s things. “Chinua said you were not to have this until you were ready.”

  Sargon didn’t bother to ask what that meant. He dropped to his knees and began untying the thin leather strips that secured the bundle. The neat knots with the unique twirl told him that his mother had prepared this herself.

  Unraveling the outer cloth, Sargon found a plain but well-made tunic, trousers such as Akkad’s horse fighters wore, a pair of sturdy sandals, and two undergarments. The trousers would have been more than useful on this last ride.

  Tashanella picked up the tunic and shook it out. Sargon donned the undergarment and trousers, fastening them with the same knot his mother had used. Tashanella handed him the tunic and he dropped that over his chest. He sat and tied on the sandals, enjoying the feel on his now calloused feet.

  When he finished, both women nodded approvingly.

  “A handsome warrior,” Nibiru declared.

  “You must hurry, Sargon.” Tashanella led the way out of the tent.

  “You look very beautiful today, Tashanella,” Nibiru called out before the pair started for Subutai’s tent.

  To Sargon’s surprise, the girl who had touched his stiff manhood without showing any emotion blushed furiously.

  Both he and Tashanella pretended not to hear the giggling of the young girls that broke out behind them. Instead they quickened their pace toward Subutai’s tent.

  25

  Tashanella stayed at his side all the way to her mother’s cooking fire. Sargon gave her one last look, then ducked inside Subutai’s tent. The time for the feast to begin approached, and Sargon hoped he wasn’t the one keeping everyone away from the celebration.

  “I’m sorry to be late, Subutai. I fell asleep at the stream.”

  Looking around, Sargon saw the tent filled to capacity. Chinua and Skala were there, both still wearing the rags they’d worn when they rode into camp. Subutai must have summoned them before they could change. Whatever they had talked about, the conversation had gone on since they arrived.

  Suddenly Sargon felt conscious of his clean tunic and new sandals. He saw the frown on Subutai’s face, and wondered just how long the Clan’s Sarum had been waiting. Sargon guessed that the boy sent to find him would get a tongue-lashing for taking so much time.

  Sargon wondered what the clan leader would do if he found out that Tashanella had brought Sargon back. She might be punished as well. And if Subutai discovered what had happened at the stream, Sargon might end up guarding the horses for the next few nights.

  “Come. Sit.” Subutai took a deep breath and erased the frown. “You know everyone here.”

  Sargon squeezed in beside Chinua and Jennat, who shifted to make room. Sargon nodded gratefully, then acknowledged the others present – Skala, Fashod, and an old warrior named Namar.

  “I have not yet spoken to young Sargon,” Namar said. “But I have watched him train more than once.”

  Namar, one of the oldest warriors in the camp, commanded no warriors and had not ridden out on a raid in many years. Long white hair framed his seamed face, almost concealing a faded scar on his cheek. But his eyes remained sharp as they studied Sargon’s face. Namar’s wisdom guided many in the camp, and Sargon knew Subutai made few decisions of importance without consulting Namar.

  “I give you greetings, Namar of the Ur Nammu.” Sargon bowed his head. “I have heard much about your wisdom.”

  “We need to plan for the coming of these Carchemishi invaders,” Subutai said, wasting no more time. “And there may be a task for Sargon that could help us.”

  Sargon’s mouth dropped in surprise. He’d expected nothing more than attending another meeting, not that he would be asked to perform an important duty.

  “The invaders know we are in these lands, and will likely try to hunt us down,” Subutai said. “And they have learned how many warriors we have. After Chinua’s raid, they know about our courage and willingness to fight. When they come, they will bring the full force of their army against us.”

  “They do not know where we are yet,” Chinua said. “We took time to cover our tracks, so it will take them some time to find us.”

  “Chinua, you and Skala do not know about the strangers,” Subutai said. “Fashod’s men encountered them three days ago, and brought them here. Two men and two women, lost and nearly dead from exhaustion and starvation. But they knew all about the Carchemishi. They came from a small village on the southern side of the passage. The villagers there had traded with the newcomers for many days, until the invaders turned on their camp and killed everyone. Only these few escaped. They told us the Carchemishi, about sixteen hundred of them, are advancing toward us in two war parties, about twenty miles apart. Between them and their outriders, they have stripped a wide swath of the land bare as they passed, and killed everyone within their reach.”

  Sargon watched as the pleasant expressions on the faces of Skala, Jennat, and Chinua vanished. Everyone in the tent knew the number of Ur Nammu warriors that could be ready to ride
and fight – just over three hundred. No matter how brave or skilled, those were impossible odds.

  Subutai nodded at their sudden comprehension. “Yes, the situation is not good. If the invaders keep at their present pace, their forces will reach this place in five or six days, no more than seven.”

  Jennat spoke for the first time. “Are those numbers certain?”

  “Fashod, Namar, and I spoke with the wanderers. The men claimed to have counted the Carchemishi force just before it split into two. They say they needed to know the numbers so they could decide how much to trade, and how much gold to ask for.” Subutai shrugged. “Even if they are wrong by five hundred, we will still be greatly outnumbered.”

  “We may have delayed them,” Chinua said. “They lost many horses and men.”

  “Or they may speed up their march to satisfy their revenge,” Subutai countered.

  “We killed many of them,” Skala said, “close to a hundred. We shot more than two hundred shafts right into them at close range.”

  “Perhaps the number is as you say, Skala.” Subutai’s voice showed that he did not want to dispute the warrior.

  “But I have ridden on many such raids, and heard all the stories about how many were slain. A warrior shoots an arrow and sees a man go down. He thinks he killed him. But it may be that the man simply heard the arrow whistle by and dropped to the earth. Or three or four warriors shoot at the same man and kill him. Each believes that it was his arrow that dropped the enemy, and so each warrior adds one to his count of the dead.”

  A polite way to tell Skala that he had no way of knowing how many Carchemishi had been killed or wounded.

  Subutai shook his head. “This is the way of battles. Only by counting the dead bodies of your enemies can you be sure of the number killed. I learned that from Sargon’s father.”

  At the mention of Sargon’s father, all eyes turned to him again.

  Subutai gave Skala and Chinua only a moment to consider his words. “So we must decide what to do. We cannot remain here. And we cannot turn toward the northeast, or we will encounter the Alur Meriki. So I think we must fall back to the southeast, toward the lands of Akkad. It may be that these invaders will turn aside before they enter Akkad’s lands. They do not have enough fighters to challenge Eskkar’s forces.”

  “We cannot be certain of that,” Jennat argued. “The Carchemishi leader Sargon and I spoke to seemed aware of Akkad and its soldiers.” He turned to Sargon, who nodded in agreement. “They showed no fear of Akkad’s name. Perhaps these invaders are but the advanced force of an even greater number.”

  Whatever pleasant feelings Sargon had enjoyed before entering the tent vanished. Clearly, the daring night raid on the enemy and the long ride here had settled nothing. If anything, the attack had made a bad situation worse. The fight was coming south, straight at the Ur Nammu. They would be lucky to get away in time.

  The same thought must have occurred to Chinua. “How can we get away? We would have to leave everything behind, our tents, herds, all our possessions. Even if we just take the horses and leave tomorrow, our women and children and those too old to fight will slow us down. We do not have enough horses for everyone. The invaders will catch up with us in a few days.”

  The Ur Nammu women, children, and old men numbered just over a thousand. Even with the horses Chinua had captured, the total number of horses in the camp was less than six hundred.

  “Did these wanderers say how many horse fighters the Carchemishi have?” Jennat touched the wound on his arm as he spoke.

  “Between eight and nine hundred,” Subutai said.

  The number silenced everyone as they thought about what it meant. Even Sargon knew that with so many riders, they could easily overtake and destroy the fleeing Ur Nammu, or at least pin them down until the enemy foot soldiers arrived.

  “We were hoping that Akkad could send warriors to assist us.” Fashod broke the gloomy silence and addressed Sargon. “It would be in their interest to help us drive these invaders away.”

  Subutai again turned to Sargon. “That is why I asked you here. I want you to ride with Fashod back to the lands of Akkad. You can tell your father what you have seen and heard. You can warn him of this new threat. The outlying villages in his northern lands will also be in danger.”

  A few men on fast horses would have no trouble avoiding the Carchemishi. Sargon knew he would be safe, and he could deliver a warning of the approaching invasion. But that wouldn’t help the Ur Nammu.

  “It’s at least a six or seven day ride, maybe longer, to reach the outlying forts of my father,” Sargon said, “and even if we reached them sooner, there are not enough fighters in those settlements to turn back so many enemies. We would have to continue on to Akkad to raise enough men.”

  That, of course, was the problem. Akkad depended on the Ur Nammu to patrol these empty lands. The small garrison villages maintained only enough fighters to keep control of bandits or the occasional raider from the south.

  “How long do you think it would take before your father could raise enough men to help us?”

  Sargon had learned all about the pride of the Ur Nammu, or any barbarian tribe for that matter. To ask for help from another was a grave step. He glanced at the warriors. None met his eyes, only Subutai. The clan leader knew all too well what he was asking.

  “It would take . . . after we reach Akkad, I think it would take my father at least four or five days to raise a force strong enough to march north and deal with these invaders. Our soldiers are scattered among many villages. They would have to be assembled, and supplies collected. It would take another six or seven days of hard riding to get back to this land. I will go to my father and tell him. I am sure he will come to your assistance as fast as he can, but I don’t think he can assemble enough men and march here until that many days have passed.”

  Subutai accepted the grim assessment. “It is as I thought. Still, we are grateful for your help, Sargon. And we understand the problems that face your father.” He glanced around the circle. “It seems that we will have to survive on our own, at least until Akkad can aid us.”

  “What are we to do?” Skala’s usually brash voice sounded subdued.

  “We will break camp in the morning,” Subutai said. “We will load the women and children on the horses and leave everything else behind. I want the entire clan to be on the way south by midmorning. The closer we can move toward Akkad’s lands, the safer we will be.”

  The clan leader’s voice held a trace of finality. Sargon looked around the circle of warriors. The grim situation left little to say.

  “Sargon’s words have given me an idea.” Namar broke the silence. “There is another force that could help us drive these invaders back.”

  Subutai turned to face the older man. “Who?”

  “The Alur Meriki.”

  Mouths opened and jaws dropped. Sargon knew the Alur Meriki were the most hated and dreaded enemy of the Ur Nammu. For almost two generations, the Alur Meriki had hunted down and almost wiped out the Ur Nammu. The two tribes had fought many battles, and they despised each other.

  “Why would they help us?” Subutai voice remained flat.

  “The Alur Meriki are drawing closer to the pass that opens into these western plains,” Namar said. “Already our riders have glimpsed their advance scouting parties. Sooner or later, they will have to confront these invaders themselves.”

  Sargon wasn’t the only one surprised by the news about the Alur Meriki sightings. Chinua and Skala also turned toward Subutai.

  “Fashod’s riders have twice seen Alur Meriki riders. They recognized our warriors as well, but did not show any signs of hostility. Whether that is a result of the oath Eskkar made their new Sarum swear, we are not sure.” Subutai shrugged. “But before he left our camp, Sargon’s father advised me to make sure we offer no provocation to them in their passage.”

  “When they come out of the mountains,” Fashod said, talking almost to himself as to the others,
“they will still be far to the north, too far away to help us. The invaders would have to turn toward the northeast to confront them.”

  “Even so, it would be good for us if the Alur Meriki would face them,” Subutai said. “But even if they honor their pledge not to attack us, neither will they do anything to help us, of that I am certain. Nothing we could say to them would change that.”

  He took a deep breath and shook his head. “Our best chance is to move south, toward Akkad’s lands, and hope that we can stay ahead of the Carchemishi until Eskkar and his soldiers reach us.”

  Sargon saw Chinua and Fashod slowly nod in acceptance. The blood feud that existed between the two clans could never be satisfied until one or the other race was destroyed. Jennat and Skala kept silent. Both were good warriors, but Sargon knew they lacked experience in matters that affected the entire clan.

  Then Sargon realized that Namar had not responded to his Sarum’s words. The old warriors eyes remained fixed on Sargon.

  Subutai also noticed Namar’s stare. “What is it you wish to say?”

  “Nothing.” Namar dropped his gaze from Sargon and stared at his hands resting on his lap. “Perhaps I spoke foolishly.”

  With a sudden insight, Sargon realized what the old warrior intended. Subutai had made his decision. The Ur Nammu would depart tomorrow and head south, but long before they could reach the safety of Akkad’s outlying forts or any approaching reinforcements, the clan would be overtaken by the Carchemishi cavalry.

  The warriors would fight to the death, might even manage to hold off the enemy horsemen. But when the Carchemishi foot soldiers caught up with their cavalry, the Ur Nammu would be destroyed. The women and children who survived would be raped and tortured. Most would then be killed, and the rest taken as slaves.

  Tashanella. She would be one of those taken. Sargon’s thoughts flashed to an image of her on the ground, naked and bleeding, with a sword thrust through her stomach. Slowly he lifted his gaze to meet Namar’s eyes. “They might listen to me.”