Eskkar Saga 02 - Empire Rising

by Sam Barone

  “I need to borrow this,” she said, moving so quickly that she’d pulled the green-tinged copper blade from the man’s belt before he even realized what she intended. “Kuri, stay here.” She tucked the knife inside her dress, clutching it tight against her body through the thin shift, holding it firmly from outside, and ran after Tammuz, ignoring the voices that called after her.

  People filled the lanes. Many had eaten their evening meals and looked forward to a few hours of relaxation before turning in for the night. They frowned at En-hedu as she pushed and bumped her way through their midst, following the path she knew Tammuz would take toward Eskkar’s house.

  The sun sank below the horizon. Already the daylight colors had faded, replaced by the grayness of shadows that began to cover everything.

  At this time of day it would take some time to reach Eskkar’s residence, and she hurried as fast as she could, breathing hard as she weaved through the strollers. To her surprise, before she’d crossed three lanes, she saw Tammuz walking a few paces ahead of her. Relieved, she slowed to a walk. To add to her astonishment, he turned away from the lane that led to Eskkar’s.

  She wondered what could have made him change his destination. About a dozen paces behind him, she opened her mouth to call his name, when . . .

  “Gatus!” Tammuz yelled. “Look out!”

  The shout froze everyone in the lane, but only for an instant. Then the dull clank of bronze on bronze shattered the peaceful evening. Tammuz darted ahead, drawing his knife. En-hedu broke into a run, fear rushing through her at what she might find.

  A voice shouted in Egyptian, and she heard a man scream in pain as she reached the intersection where Tammuz had shouted. With scarcely enough light for her to see, En-hedu recognized Gatus, his back against a wall and a sword in his hand, fighting off Simut and his men. A man, Gatus’s bodyguard, lay writhing on the ground, bleeding, his cries for help ignored.

  Gatus, fending off three men, was about to be overwhelmed when Tammuz slipped up behind one of Simut’s men and stabbed him hard in the back. The man screamed, and En-hedu saw blood gushing from his tunic. Simut saw the blow, and swung his sword at Tammuz, who ducked away from the cut. Seizing the opportunity, Gatus shifted to the opposite side, striking at the closest of his attackers. Gatus’s thrust drove the man back, giving the old soldier a chance to dodge aside and escape. But before he could get clear, the other Egyptian lunged at Gatus, driving his sword into the captain of the guard’s side. Gatus rammed the hilt of his sword into the man’s face with enough force to shove the man back into his companion. Then Gatus, clutching his side, whirled away, and disappeared up the lane, merging with the growing shadows.

  Meanwhile, Simut turned to Tammuz, to finish off the youth who’d disrupted Simut’s ambush. He raised his sword and stepped toward Tammuz, slashing at his head. Tammuz stepped sideways as he jerked his knife from his victim’s back. Simut’s sword just missed, but the Egyptian had fought too many times to stake his life on a single blow. Moving smoothly, he followed up with a cross cut at Tammuz’s head, then lunged at Tammuz’s chest. Tammuz, his knife no match against his attacker’s sword, twisted away, trying to avoid the thrust, but he lost his balance and stumbled.

  Unable to shift his weight, Tammuz landed hard, on his weak arm.

  Simut, with a grunt of satisfaction, drew back his sword and thrust downward. But before the blow could gather momentum, Simut’s easy kill turned into a hiss of pain. En-hedu, arriving at a run, had drawn the knife from her bosom, and shoved it with all her strength into Simut’s back, a hand’s width above his belt, feeling it sink to the hilt.

  The thrust froze the Egyptian’s sword. For a moment he stood there, then with a grunt of pain he turned his blade toward his attacker, mortally wounded but still able to strike. Before the blow landed, Tammuz lunged up from the ground with his knife, burying his blade under Simut’s ribs.

  With an incomprehensible curse, the man fell to the ground, the sword striking En-hedu weakly, but with the blade flat, before it slipped from his hand. En-hedu jerked her knife free from Simut’s body, feeling hot blood gush along her arm, and reached Tammuz’s side, helping him to his feet. Gatus had slipped away, his two remaining attackers vanishing after him in pursuit. Half a dozen onlookers, stunned into silence, stared openmouthed into the gathering darkness at the three men lying dead or dying before them.

  Tammuz took one look around, shoved the bloody knife in his belt, then grasped En-hedu’s arm. In a moment, they, too, faded into the growing shadows at a run, leaving the shocked and surprised inhabitants to wonder what they’d just witnessed.

  Weaving between the unconcerned strollers, Tammuz guided En-hedu down one lane, then changed direction to another. En-hedu looked behind them, but saw nothing. They slowed to a brisk walk. No one noticed them. Here, one lane away, the commotion had gone unheard.

  “We’ve got to get to Eskkar’s house,” Tammuz whispered. “Trella needs to . . .”

  “What about Gatus?” En-hedu realized she still clutched her knife in her hand. She stuffed it back inside the bodice of her dress, shivering as the hot blood still on the blade dripped between her breasts. She had to force the image of Simut’s face, showing a mixture of pain and hatred, from her mind. “I saw him run up the lane, with the Egyptians in pursuit.”

  “We can’t do anything about him,” Tammuz said, moving her along faster as he got his breath back. “Either he got away, or they’ve caught up with him by now. We need to warn Trella.”

  En-hedu realized they’d gone back the way they came, then closed in on Eskkar’s house. The lane twisted and turned, but only one more intersection lay between them and their destination. As Eskkar’s house came into sight, sounds of violence erupted from just outside the gate. They saw a half-dozen men fighting at the courtyard entrance. Tammuz started forward, then stopped, as a wall of Egyptians pushed past them from behind, knocking Tammuz and En-hedu aside in their haste. Tammuz covered En-hedu with his body and pressed her against the wall. They both watched in horror as dozens of foreign soldiers, swords in their hands, charged toward Eskkar’s house. Before Tammuz or En-hedu could overcome their shock and surprise, the Egyptians had raced up and overwhelmed the Akkadians defending Eskkar’s household.

  Earlier, when Korthac left his house a little before dusk, he strode past the woman his men called En-hedu without observing her or any of the other vendors. Accompanied by only two guards, his eyes scanned the lane, alert for any signs of danger, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. No longer a stranger, he wended his way through the twisting lanes almost unnoticed by the people of Akkad. The few that did give him a glance didn’t perceive the long knife fastened beneath his tunic.

  The marketplace stood nearly deserted as Korthac passed through it, heading toward the river gate. On the way, he encountered several of Akkad’s soldiers, most of them unarmed, and none of whom even glanced at him. By now Korthac knew their routine. They would have finished their duties for the day and already eaten dinner in the barracks’ common room. Now they would search out their favorite alehouses, to enjoy a few hours’ relaxation before heading for their beds and another night’s sleep.

  Arriving at Akkad’s rear gate, Korthac found it half-open. Though both gates should have been sealed at dusk, the river gate often stayed open a few extra hours. The guards had pushed the one side closed, but left the other side accessible. People continued to walk in and out, some heading for the river to bathe, while others strolled along the bank, taking their ease or conducting business of a personal nature.

  A watch fire burned beside the gate, next to a bundle of torches.

  Korthac spotted one of his other four men, sitting against the wall, as unnoticed as any beggar. The man raised his right arm in greeting, and Korthac nodded. The signal meant all of the men were ready and in place.

  Korthac continued on, noting that only two guards stood at the gate’s entrance, watching to make sure no strangers entered after dusk.

 
; The gathering darkness made it difficult to be certain, yet Korthac counted no more than seven soldiers manning the gate. Usually a detail of ten secured the river gate, but the number varied, and he’d found nights when as few as five walked their post. Taking his time, he climbed the steps to the right-side parapet. One of his guards followed, the one carrying the longest bundle, while the other remained below.

  At the top, three soldiers stood guard, looking down toward the docks and those passing in and out through the gate. The gate commander approached Korthac. Orders said that only soldiers could mount the wall, but exceptions might be made, especially for a rich trader who wanted to see the river and didn’t mind parting with a few coins.

  “Greetings, Honorable Korthac,” the man said, “how may I help you tonight?”

  Korthac had mounted these steps at least once a day for the last few weeks, to offer his prayers to the river god, he’d explained. Each prayer session, always short, ended with a copper coin for the guard.

  “Greetings to you and your men,” Korthac answered with a smile.

  “Tonight I have to make a special offering to Enki, the river god, to thank him for the favorable cargo he sent me today.” Korthac nodded to his bodyguard, who unslung the sack he’d carried across his shoulder, then turned back to the guard. “Perhaps you can help my servant with the offering?”

  The other two guards, curious at this new ritual, moved closer, as the bodyguard knelt to open his bundle. Korthac stepped behind them, hand on his knife. As the blanket came open, Korthac struck, moving so quickly that he’d stabbed the two guards before either could react, and with only the sound of their moans escaping. The watch commander died at the same moment, a stunned look of surprise on his face, as Korthac’s bodyguard snatched up a sword from the sack and drove it into the soldier’s stomach. The man died without even reaching for his sword, and, more important, without sounding the alarm.

  Pushing the bodies aside, Korthac reached down and took a short horseman’s bow from his bodyguard’s hand. It took but a moment to string it and nock an arrow, but there was no need. The soldiers guarding the other side of the gate had died, struck down by his Egyptians who’d moved into place just under the steps as their leader mounted. Some of the dead had cried out, but there’d been no loud clash of weapons. Nevertheless, a few citizens looked about in surprise, wondering what had happened, too confused to understand what they’d witnessed.

  Korthac didn’t worry about them. All that mattered was that the alarm hadn’t sounded, and by now one of his men had secured the trumpet.

  More Egyptians guarded the two lanes leading away from the gate, ready to stop any messenger rushing toward the soldiers’ barracks with a warning. Instead, Korthac leaned out over the wall and waved the bow. He couldn’t see far into the darkness, but he knew his men waited there, close enough to see the signal and would relay it to Takany and Ariamus’s men.

  Looking down into the well of the gate, he saw the rest of his men moving into position, taking station just inside the opening, to make sure no one attempted to shut the portal.

  From the darkness, he heard the rumble of many sandals approaching and looked back toward the river. The moment Korthac saw his men running toward the gate, he descended the steps. Takany and Nebibi led the first group of men through without stopping. Fifty Egyptians and an equal number of recruits followed him, all moving at a run directly toward the barracks.

  Ariamus, leading another forty men, followed them in, pausing only long enough for Korthac and his six Egyptian bodyguards to fall in step beside him. Korthac had belted his sword about him, and strapped on a bronze helmet, both taken from the same bundle that concealed the swords and bow. The invaders jogged steadily, moving fast enough to cover the ground quickly but not too fast to leave the men exhausted.

  Korthac’s force of nearly fifty men headed straight toward Eskkar’s house. Korthac needed to capture it and those inside without a major struggle. He’d seen that the house was strongly built. Given enough warning, even a handful of men could hold out there for some time. His contingent had farther to go than Takany and those moving to the barracks, which were closer to the river than Eskkar’s house. Hathor would be positioned there, with orders to wait as long as he could before attacking, to let his leader reach his destination.

  The alarm sounded while they still had another lane to traverse.

  Korthac broke into a run, his men speeding up behind him. He turned into Eskkar’s lane. A torch burned next to the gate, and he saw a knot of men fighting. Hathor and his men had orders to keep that gate open. A clamor rose up from behind the courtyard wall, another trumpet sending its warning up into the darkness, overriding the noise and confusion. The clash of bronze on bronze told everyone fighting raged, and inside the compound Eskkar’s soldiers fumbled for their weapons and rushed to close the gate.

  Two of Hathor’s men died fighting, but they held it open long enough for Korthac’s men to reach it. Korthac stopped just outside and ordered them in. Ariamus led the way, bursting through the opening, shouting his war cry. Korthac let a dozen men pass through, then followed them in, guarded by the same two bodyguards who helped kill the soldiers at the river gate.

  Another torch still burned in the courtyard, lighting the dead bodies scattered about. Two more of Ariamus’s men had died forcing their way in. The rest of Korthac’s Egyptians formed up around him. He hurried along the house wall toward the house. Ariamus had orders to break in if necessary, and two of his men carried hammers and stakes for that purpose. If necessary, they would drive the stakes into the door and wrench the wood apart.

  Korthac saw the tools wouldn’t be needed. The thick door stood wide open. Sounds of fighting came from the house, though that noise ended by the time he reached the entrance.

  Ariamus, blood on his sword, met him just inside the door. “They’re in the upper rooms. We’ll have to force the door.” Two men pulled hammers from their packs, and rushed toward the stairs.

  “Perhaps not. Bring another torch.” Stepping over the dead body of a soldier, Korthac passed inside and ascended the steps, stopping just below the landing. He rapped on the door with the point of his sword. “Lady Trella,” he called out. “Tell your men to open the door. Otherwise we’ll have to break it down and kill everyone inside.”

  Shouts answered him, and from behind the door, he heard men arguing.

  “Soldiers of Akkad, the house has been taken.” Korthac waited a moment, while the sounds of men cursing sounded through the door. “Lady Trella, tell your men to surrender. Your soldiers are all dead, and more of my men have captured the barracks. There won’t be any help. If you don’t want your followers to die, open the door.”

  He let the arguing go on for a few moments. They had no choice. As soon as they realized no one would come to their rescue, they’d surrender.

  Korthac’s men filled the courtyard, some already busy looting the soldiers’ quarters. Behind the door, the defenders kept arguing, their voices rising as they shouted at each other. Some wanted to hold out, others wanted to talk.

  “Open the door now, Trella. You need my protection for you and the child.”

  “You’ll let the soldiers live?” Her question carried over the bickering, which quieted at her words.

  Korthac detected no panic in her voice, only acceptance of the inevitable. “Yes, as slaves. It’s that or they die.”

  They had no choice, and it didn’t take Trella long to convince her guards. He heard the sound of the table dragging across the floor, and in a moment, the bar lifting from its braces. The door swung open to reveal Annok-sur standing there. Behind her stood four men, swords at the ready.

  Korthac saw another man, wounded, lying against the wall.

  “Tell them to put down their weapons and come out. You and Lady Trella will stay here.”

  “Drop your swords, and obey him.” Lady Trella’s voice came from behind the men.

  She sounded unafraid, but he’d soon change tha
t.

  The soldiers looked at each other, then tossed their swords to the floor in surrender.

  “Tie them up, Ariamus. We’ll need good slaves.” Korthac meant his words. A few weeks working as tethered captives under the whip would find them more than willing to join his forces. With Eskkar dead and forgotten, trained fighting men would willingly join him.

  Korthac watched as Ariamus and his men secured the soldiers, binding their hands and pushing them down the stairs, to join the other prisoners. In moments, only Trella and Annok-sur remained.

  “I’ll send your servants up here, Trella. If you want them to stay alive, you’ll remain in the bedroom.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Trella said.

  Ignoring her question, he gave orders to have both the upper rooms searched and all weapons removed. Korthac left six of his men to watch over Trella, telling them in Egyptian to kill her if anyone attempted a rescue.

  Moving downstairs, he found Ariamus and Hathor waiting for him.

  “A messenger just came from Takany,” Hathor said, still holding a sword dripping with blood. “He’s taken the barracks and seized all the weapons. But men are holding out at the main gate.”

  Hathor had done well, securing the entrance to Eskkar’s compound.

  With Takany’s capture of the soldiers’ quarters, the most difficult objective had been achieved. The only real resistance could have come from the barracks. With that taken, the battle had ended. Korthac’s main goal had been to secure Trella alive and unharmed, so that he could use her to force the inhabitants to his will.

  “Ariamus, leave twenty of your men here,” Korthac said. “Take the rest and guard the river gate. Make sure no horses leave the city. Watch the boats and the river as well.”

  Korthac turned to Hathor. “Take your men to the main gate. Keep whatever soldiers are left penned up there. Put archers on the walls, to make sure no one leaves the city. When Takany gets here, we’ll bring our men to the main gate and finish the last of the resistance. Afterward, we can begin hunting down any who’ve escaped. By dawn, the city will be mine.”