Clash Of Empires

Chapter 18

Fifty-six days after Orodes cut through his first pile of rubble, and the same day as Alcinor brought down the cliffs and blocked the Jkarian Pass, Orodes clung to his perch atop a boulder and stared at the landscape before him. For once, he could see something besides another god-cursed winding and narrow trail, a heap of rocks, or a gaping chasm.

The long days of endless labor in the mountain’s foothills had drained both his strength and his energy. By now he no longer cared about Lady Trella, Akkad, or even the coming Elamite invasion. All that remained was a dogged determination to complete a task, and prove once again that Orodes of Akkad was not only the richest man in the city, but also its greatest miner.

Even so, he knew that he would have failed, except that as he and his men had worked their way farther south, the hills and cliffs had gradually diminished in size. And the obstacles, though more frequent, had decreased in both height and the weight of rock that needed to be cleared. Now, looking ahead, Orodes saw the end to his labor, less than a mile away.

He glimpsed something else in the distance. A patch of blue glistened under the sun. Wrinkling his nose, Orodes caught the scent of the Great Sea. He heaved a vast sigh of relief. He had done it. Despite all the obstacles the mountain gods had heaped in his path, Orodes had vanquished them all. He took another, deeper breath of the salt-scented air. Yes, the end of his journey was in sight.

Luka joined him atop the boulder, wriggling his way to the edge. “I told you it was here! I told you.”

“You’re sure this is the last one?” Orodes thought he could follow the trail through the end of the hills, but he couldn’t be certain.

“Yes, this is it.” Luka pointed to a pair of grooves scratched on the rock beside them. “This is the mark I made when I returned from the Sea. You did it, Orodes, you did it!”

Orodes resisted the temptation to take all the glory for himself. Every man in his crew had worked hard, of course, but Orodes knew no other man — miner, builder, or digger, not even Master Engineer Alcinor — in the Land Between the Rivers could have accomplished what Orodes had done, not in so short a time.

“We did, indeed, Luka.” Orodes accepted Luka’s words of praise, as he stretched out his arm to the south. “So that is the beach itself?”

“No, you can’t see it from here. But when you emerge from the hills, there is about three hundred paces of sandy grassland, then about another hundred or more paces of sand to the water’s edge.”

All Orodes could spy from here was the green strip of earth, and the small patch of blue water. But the Great Sea waited just beyond, no doubt about that.

“Pick a few men and go take a look,” Orodes ordered. “Make sure no one sees you. The soldiers will be here by morning, and the more we know about what awaits them the better.”

The impatient horsemen in the vanguard of the cavalry had caught up with Orodes and his men eight days ago. After wasting half a morning answering foolish questions and watching his men get distracted, he’d told Hathor and King Naxos to remain a full day behind.

Daro, the commander of the expedition, had shaken his head and accepted Orodes’s decision. Neither the King of Isin nor Hathor of Akkad had enjoyed being ordered to remain in the rear.

“I’ll send a messenger back to Hathor at once,” Luka said. “How long will it take to break through?”

Orodes already had that answer. After clearing forty-three blocked passages, he could estimate the time to clear this one easily enough. He glanced up at the sun, which had just moved past its midday peak in the sky. “If we work until dark, we should be able to clear the way by midmorning.”

Luka called down orders to his men. Soon he and two others were scrambling through the rocks. They reached the other side, and set off at a trot for the beach.

Orodes slid back down and faced his men, scattered about as they lay on the ground and grateful for any chance to rest. All were dull-eyed and near exhaustion. Dust covered arms and legs, where it had worked its way into the skin. Every one had at least a double handful of cuts on their face, hands, arms, and chest, the result of too many sharp bits of flying rock.

Orodes had as many himself. He’d worked almost as hard as any of his men, supervising the crews, selecting the best way to work each obstacle, often times picking up a hammer and chisel himself. Gazing at the bodies sprawled about, he wondered if he appeared as haggard to them as they did to him.

Orodes took a deep breath. “Men! We’ve reached the sea. This is the last barrier. Once we break through here, we can return to Akkad and you can collect your pay.”

No one cheered. Only a few bothered to glance up at their master, but even they showed no excitement or enthusiasm. Almost two months of back-breaking labor had extinguished any such sparks. By now even thoughts of the additional coins Orodes had promised meant little.

“Daro and the soldiers will be here by nightfall,” Orodes continued, “and they have extra supplies, so we’ll eat well tonight. They can help clearing the trail and with the digging tomorrow. Let’s get to work.”

Orodes ignored the weary groans that answered his words. Instead he reached down and found his pack. Removing his hammer and chisel, he turned, strode to the rock wall, and started work. One by one, with the usual accompaniment of grunts and sighs, his weary men climbed to their feet and followed his example.

Soon the noise of hammers striking chisels, rocks being tossed aside, and men swearing at the hard labor resumed its usual song. One more, Orodes thought, one more passage cut through the rocks and he could rest.

When he returned to Akkad, he intended to sleep for the first five days, then spend the next five floating in the Tigris, washing and scraping away the rock dust imbedded in his skin. And eating. He would treat himself to fresh meat every day, perhaps at every meal. Visions of roasted chickens, thick steaks, and hunks of steaming mutton passed before his eyes.

And wine. Orodes intended to get decently drunk every night. He would just lay in his bed and let his wives and slave girls climb all over him.

The fantasy continued as he labored, and lasted until dusk arrived and it grew too dark to see anything. The exhausted men dropped their tools and slid to the ground wherever they happened to be. Nobody bothered searching for any scraps of firewood. His crew had not built a proper campfire in five days. Instead, they slipped into sleep as only the physically spent and emotionally drained can.

“Wake up! Wake up, I say.”

Orodes, his head resting against a boulder, opened his eyes, and pushed himself to a sitting position.

“Who is it?”

“It’s the King of the Elamites, who do you think it is?” Daro squatted down beside Orodes. “Leave you alone for a few days, and look at you. A child could have slit all your throats.”

Orodes rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand. Daro and most of his soldiers had fallen back with the cavalry, to help keep Naxos and Hathor from annoying the digging crews. “None of us would care, as long as he didn’t wake us up doing it. Are the soldiers here?”

“Any moment now,” Daro said. “King Naxos and Hathor are right behind. I came on ahead, as soon as Luka’s messenger brought us the news.”

“Good.” Orodes couldn’t force himself to put any enthusiasm into his words. “We can use the help.”

“Where’s Luka?”

Orodes told Daro about the sea, and that he’d sent Luka on ahead.

“It’s true you can see the Great Sea?”

“Almost,” Orodes said.

Both men turned at the sound of horses approaching. One of Daro’s men had just finished with flint and stone and started a small fire from wood scraps and tinder the soldiers had brought with them. The man touched a torch to the tiny flame, and after a moment, held it high, revealing two tall figures striding toward them.

Daro helped Orodes get to his feet. “King Naxos, Orodes has succeeded. He’s cut his way through the mountains.”

Even in the torchlight, Orodes felt the penetrating eyes of King Naxos of Isin studying him. “Doesn’t look much like the richest man in Akkad right now, does he?” Naxos grunted at his own joke. “How far are we from the sea?”

Orodes, awake now, reacted the way most men did to the King of Isin — with annoyance. “About fifty paces, Lord Naxos. In the morning, after we cut through the last of this rubble, you’ll be able to see the beach from here. Less than a mile, I’d guess.”

“You’ve done well, Orodes, though you don’t look any more cheerful than the last time I saw you.”

Orodes turned to the second man, and recognized Hathor’s gaunt figure even in the flickering light. “Did you have any trouble along the trail?”

Hathor shook his head. “Lost a handful of horses, and two men to falls. But it took us much longer than we thought. We’re about out of food and water, and there won’t be much in the way of supplies coming down the trail for a few days.”

“How much food and how many horses do you have with you?”

Naxos, obviously unwilling to let Akkadians lead the conversation, answered that one. “The last of our forces caught up with us two days ago. We’ve almost five thousand horsemen strung out behind us, most of them wondering where in the name of all the gods they’re going. You’d better get us to the sea, Orodes, or I’ll send you back to Akkad in pieces.”

“You can depend on Orodes, King Naxos.” Daro’s voice showed his confidence. “If he says we’ll reach the water tomorrow, we’ll be there.”

“Have you sent any scouts on ahead?” Naxos paid no attention to Daro’s assurance.

Orodes again felt glad for his foresight. “Yes, Luka and two of his men went on ahead. They haven’t reported back yet. Luka probably went up the coast.”

“Or they’re prisoners of the Elamites, spilling their guts out under torture. If they’re not back here by morning, I’ll send out some scouts of my own.”

“By midmorning you can ride to the beach and see for yourself.” Orodes decided he had enough of the King of Isin.

If Naxos detected the hint of disrespect, he ignored it. Instead, he snorted and stalked away, the soldier carrying the torch accompanying him.

“Don’t hold too much against him, Orodes,” Hathor said. “We’ve been riding and walking the horses for sixteen days, creeping and twisting our way through these mountains. All that without knowing if your plan was going to work. It’s enough to put any man on edge.”

Orodes shrugged. “Well, by midmorning, he’ll be your problem. Me and my men, we’ll be heading back toward Akkad. All I want is enough food and water to get home. ”

“With most of our supplies gone, we’ve more than enough extra horses for your men. I’m sure we can spare you some food, enough to last until you meet up with the next supply train.”

Orodes knew that Lady Trella and Akkad’s efficient system of distributing supplies continued to send food and water through the mountains, to keep the soldiers and Orodes’s men supplied with the essentials as they carved the trail to the sea.

“Then if you don’t mind, I intend to go back to sleep. You and Naxos can ride to war and glory.” Orodes, weary and drained from his efforts, no longer cared who won the battle or lost it. He was going to start for home in the morning. If the Elamites reached Akkad’s walls, he would worry about that when it happened.

Muttering a belated prayer to Carsindar, the god of miners and diggers, Orodes slumped down along the rock, threw his dirty blanket over his chest, closed his eyes, and dropped back into the exhausted rest he’d so recently left.