Clash Of Empires

Chapter 17

The soldiers’ garrison at Nuzi. .

Sabatu stood in his garden, practicing his archery, when he heard the sound of hoofbeats. A rider galloped past his home, and through the open gate Sabatu heard the labored breathing of the horse. A few moments later, the hoofbeats stopped abruptly, which most likely meant an important message had arrived from Akkad for Commander Tooraj. The solder in charge of Nuzi’s garrison lived only a hundred paces from Sabatu’s own residence.

Nevertheless, Sabatu refused to speculate on what message the horseman might carry. Instead he continued with his training, whipping a shaft from the quiver, fitting it to the string, and launching the arrow at the target. One after another, Sabatu loosed his shafts, stretching the rock-hard muscles in his arms. For more than a year, he’d worked with his bow, improving his eye, strengthening his muscles, and teaching his reluctant hands to master his custom-made bow.

Each repetition sharpened his skill and honed his eye, and Sabatu had grown quite proficient with his weapon. While he did not have the long range skill of Mitrac or even Daro, he could match his skill with the best of Akkad’s horsemen. Sabatu varied the routine often, moving about, shooting without bringing the arrow to his eye, dropping to one knee, even loosing a few shafts while running toward or backing away from the target.

But now Sabatu’s aim and attention wandered, and not every missile struck the center of the target. His thoughts lingered on the horse and rider that had raced past his gate, wondering if today the long-awaited summons to war had arrived.

The sun settled closer to the horizon, and as more time passed without any further sounds or activities, Sabatu dismissed the idea of war from his thoughts. His arrows once again found their mark in the center of the target with each snap of the bowstring. Then he heard footsteps, and a moment later, Commander Tooraj stepped through the gate.

“Just got word from Akkad, from the King.” Tooraj wasted no words. “The Elamite army under Grand Commander Chaiyanar is moving against Sumer. Their forces are likely to arrive in the next ten days or so. If you’re still wanting to join that fight. .”

The long-awaited day had indeed arrived. Sabatu never hesitated. “Yes. How can I get to Sumer?”

“The soldier who carried the message is returning to Akkad by boat tomorrow morning. You can travel downriver with him. Once there, I’m sure Lord Eskkar will tell you how to get to Sumer.”

“I will be ready before dawn.”

“I’ll be sorry to see you go,” Tooraj said. “I could use a master bowman here. The King is taking half my men, and I’ll be short handed.”

“You won’t be joining the fight?”

Tooraj shook his head. “Too old. Besides, we can’t risk bandits plundering the mine. Or soldiers, either.”

“Nuzi could be in no better hands.” Sabatu smiled at the veteran fighter. “But if things go wrong at Sumer, or when the fighting ends, I promise to return here.”

Sabatu meant every word. He’d come to like and respect Tooraj.

“Good hunting, then, Sabatu. May your arrow bring down your enemy and ours. I’ll keep your house ready for your return.” Tooraj glanced at the sun. “I have to go. The men are eager to learn who’s going and who’s staying.” He extended his brawny arm to Sabatu.

Sabatu clasped the man’s arm with even more force. “Good fortune to you, Tooraj, and all the people of Akkad.”

At dusk the next day, the setting sun’s rays sent waves of light across the Tigris when Sabatu stepped onto Akkad’s dock. He went straight to the King’s Compound, only to find that Eskkar had departed the city and left no word for Sabatu. He tried to speak with Queen Trella, but she, too, was unavailable. The guard at the gate refused to admit Sabatu. After wasting the rest of the evening and most of the next day trying to find Daro, Sabatu had encountered Yavtar in the lane outside the King’s Compound.

Explaining his plight, Sabatu asked for Daro.

“Daro?” Yavtar scratched his chin. “He left Akkad some time ago. Don’t know when he’ll be back.”

Sabatu caught the glint in Yavtar’s eye, but the old sailor refused to admit that he knew anything at all about Daro or his whereabouts. However, Yavtar agreed to get Sabatu to Sumer by way of one of the supply boats destined for the southern city. The next day, Sabatu sailed from Akkad.

After almost three days on the Tigris, the slow-moving ship reached the trading port of Kanesh, the fort that marked Akkad’s southern border. Even as he stepped ashore, Sabatu heard the dockside guards talking among themselves. The Elamites had already reached Sumer’s outskirts and sealed off the city. Meanwhile their cavalry had continued moving north.

Suddenly the voyage for Sabatu’s supply boat had become too risky. The nervous ship master refused to proceed further south. He unloaded his cargo of weapons and grain, turned his boat around, and set out for Akkad. Sabatu stood on the dock and cursed his bad luck.

The Elamites had moved against Sumer sooner than anyone in Akkad anticipated. The invaders had already surrounded the city, and done their best to cut off all river traffic to its dock. Now only Akkad’s sleek and fast war boats had any chance of reaching the besieged city. The Elamites hadn’t come in force as far north as Kanesh yet, but their cavalry patrols had ridden boldly almost within range of its alert archers.

Fuming at his bad luck, Sabatu discovered that he now had to wait for one of Daro’s fighting ships to arrive. With Sumer under siege, these were the only boats that dared try to slip into and out of the city under the cover of darkness. It took another two days before one of Yavtar’s fast-moving boats arrived from Akkad, bound for Sumer. The ship’s cargo consisted of forty bows and two thousand arrows, weapons that would soon be needed by Sumer’s garrison.

Sabatu pleaded his case with the frowning boat captain, clearly unwilling to transport a useless passenger.

“Well, I’m a man short,” he said. “But unless you can row and use that bow, I won’t take you on.”

“I promise you, I can row, and I can fight.”

The boat had departed Kanesh after dark, and the gruff ship master declared they would make landfall at Sumer just before dawn. He handed Sabatu an oar, and sat him down at the last rowing position in the rear of the craft, where he would have little chance to do anything wrong.

Sabatu didn’t care. He would have clung to the side of the boat for the length of the journey if need be.

Now Sabatu stared at the glistening water that carried the crew and cargo racing down the Tigris. The boat would make the entire journey under the cover of night. At last he traveled toward a goal of his own, the City of Sumer. There he would have his chance, however slim, to confront in battle Grand Commander Chaiyanar — the man who tortured Sabatu and had his family murdered in front of him.

The fighting boat had covered half the distance to Sumer when the Elamites attacked. Sabatu, like the rest of the river boat’s crew, had no warning. One moment the small craft had been moving swiftly down the Tigris, the silvery water reflecting the soft light from the nearly full moon.

Then a flight of arrows struck the boat, the individual shafts striking home with dull thuds that broke the night’s silence. With a loud splash, one of the rowers went overboard. Another man dropped his oar and started cursing, and Sabatu saw an arrow had passed through the fleshy part of the man’s arm, the bloody barb point exposed. The nine man crew, now reduced to only seven, responded fast enough, crouching low and paddling with all their strength.

Sabatu responded rapidly as well. He thrust his oar deep into the river and dragged it through the water with a grunt of exertion. The boat leapt forward despite the arrows that hissed overhead or splashed into the river.

The moment the arrows ceased, Sabatu dropped his oar, snatched up his bow, and strung the weapon. Pulling an arrow from the quiver resting beside his feet, he searched the east bank of the Tigris for the Elamite soldiers. But the boat, moving faster now, gave him no time to locate a target among the black shadows of the shoreline, at least seventy paces away.

The boat traveled a quarter of a mile before more arrows smacked against the hull, and Sabatu heard another man cry out. The remaining rowers worked their oars with all their strength, the prow of the boat cutting through the gleaming water with a relentless hiss. They were almost out of range when the second, and unnoticed, disaster struck.

The commander of the boat, acting as the steersman, took an arrow right through his neck. He never cried out, or if he did, no one heard him. Dead or dying, he loosened his grip on the steering oar. Without a steersman, the boat turned hard toward the western bank. By the time the arrows ceased and the rowers caught their breath, the boat, driven at top speed, had nearly reached the opposite shore.

“Someone take the oar!” One of the soldiers, a man named Harnos, had taken command.

Sabatu was closest, and one quick glance told him the steersman, slumped back against the stern, had died instantly. Sabatu dropped his bow and lunged toward the steering oar.

Instinctively, he pulled the tiller oar inward, then realized that motion only turned the bow of the craft even more toward the western bank. With a savage jerk, he shoved the oar outward as far as he could reach, feeling the force of the river thrusting against the oversized tiller. The boat, still with plenty of momentum, swung slowly back toward the center of the river. Sabatu saw the darker shoreline looming only a few paces from the ship.

“By the gods, I thought you’d run us aground!” Harnos, second in command — the entire crew consisted of Hawk Clan soldiers — moved to the stern to take control of the vessel.

But before Sabatu could yield the tiller, the ship lurched to a sudden halt, accompanied by the sound of wood snapping and men tumbling over the thwarts. The noise of the collision rang out loud enough to be heard across the river. The boat had missed running aground on the west bank, but not the tree that had collapsed into river.

“Damn!” This oath came from the crewman nearest the bow. “We’ve hit a tree limb!”

The boat, impaled on the nearly submerged log, lost all headway. The craft’s stern swung toward the center of the channel, twisting the ship’s frame and widening the hole below the water line. Sabatu heard the river rushing into the craft. A moment later, and the cool water reached his feet.

The experienced crew reacted swiftly.

“Curse our luck! The boat’s going down.”

“At least we won’t have far to swim.”

“Take your weapons. We may need them.”

That last came from Harnos, who clearly knew how to think fast. Men swung over the side, clutching bows, quivers, and swords. It took Sabatu a moment longer to realize that the ship was lost, and it was time to leave. The water had already reached his thighs, and the gunwale barely remained above the flowing river.

Snatching up his bow and a quiver of arrows, he stepped into the water and half-swam, half-waded his way to shore. Slipping and sliding on the mud, he struggled to climb the bank and would have fallen back into the river, but a powerful arm reached down, grabbed his tunic, and pulled him out of the water.

“What are we. .”

“Quiet, you fool.” Harnos was definitely a man used to giving orders. “Can’t you hear the horses?”

The soft drum beat of hooves reached Sabatu, and he heard voices, too. With a shock, he realized the words were the language of Elam. They must have cavalry on both sides of the river.

“Follow me,” Harnos whispered. “We’ve got to get away from here. They’ll spot the boat and come looking for us. And if you make another sound, I’ll slit your throat myself.”

Without a glance back, the soldier led the way into the darkness, the rest of the men, as ghostly as shadows, trailing behind in single file. They moved into the trees that followed the river’s course and vanished.

With a muttered curse, Sabatu ran after them, already worried that they had moved out of his sight. But he soon caught up with the last man. After that, he never let them get more than two paces ahead. Soon enough Harnos led his little detachment out of the trees, and into the open fields.

As his fright at nearly drowning passed, Sabatu clenched his teeth in frustration, angered by yet another delay in his journey to Sumer. This disaster might well thwart Sabatu’s chance for revenge. Nor could he complain to Harnos, who had received no special orders concerning the passenger.

Sabatu considered striking out on his own and trying to reach Sumer on foot. But if Chaiyanar’s cavalry had reached this far north and on both sides of the river, there would be little chance to avoid being caught. The city would be ringed with horsemen, and Sabatu would never be able to slip through their cordon.

No, Sabatu realized he would have to stay with these Hawk Clan soldiers. They knew the land, and with luck would eventually get back to Kanesh. There Sabatu would have to plead for passage on another ship. He refused to consider that he might not be able to reach Sumer and miss the opportunity of personally killing Chaiyanar.

The Akkadian boat had run into Elamite cavalry, and an unlucky arrow had sent the vessel to the bottom of the river, leaving Sabatu stumbling through the darkness. Now the best that he could hope for was a quick return to Kanesh, and the chance to board another fighting ship on its way to Sumer.

He had to get there before Chaiyanar captured the city, which he would surely do. Once ensconced within Sumer’s walls, the Grand Commander would be too well protected. No, Sabatu knew that he needed the confusion of the final assault on Sumer to slip amongst the Elamites and take his shot at Chaiyanar. In the chaos of the city’s fall, Sabatu hoped that he could make his way close to his hated torturer. Speaking Elam’s language should be enough to open the way.

One shot, that’s all he prayed for. If he could put an arrow into Chaiyanar, Sabatu would thank the gods and gladly fall on his sword.