Clash Of Empires

Chapter 28

Lord Modran’s rage had left him speechless. The fleeing soldiers had finally halted their retreat. In their flight, the demoralized Elamites pushed back upon the vast number of men still moving up from the rear, trying to join the battle. Once again more than half a mile separated the two armies, and but now confusion mixed with shocked surprise swept through the long column that comprised his soldiers.

As soon as the chaos ended, Lord Modran had summoned his senior commanders. They stood before their leader, eyes downcast, stunned looks on their faces. Hundreds of his men, perhaps thousands, had been slain before his eyes, and without ever coming to grips with the jeering Akkadians. Modran had lost men before, but never so many so quickly, and never in defeat.

General Martiya pushed through the silent ranks, shoving aside any man that blocked his path. A thin trickle of blood ran down his cheek. “Where did they get so many bowmen? You told us Akkad had less than a thousand archers!”

Modran clenched his teeth at Martiya’s boldness. But now was not the time to confront his senior commander’s rage. “That’s what our spies said.”

“Then our spies are fools, or men who can’t count above ten. I counted almost two thousand archers loosing at us. And the arrows. They never ran out of arrows!”

“They can’t have many left,” Modran said. “The next attack will break their ranks. Once we come to grips with them. .”

Martiya shook his head so hard that some of the blood on his cheek flew off. “Even now, men continue to reinforce the Akkadians. Not soldiers, but laborers carrying packs or water skins or weapons. During the fight, I saw them arriving, delivering more stocks of arrows to their archers. And more porters still come down the slope. They’re not going to run out of arrows, My Lord.”

“We’ll need to build a shield wall, so our own bowmen can close with them. Then we can attack.”

Martiya opened his mouth, then closed it. He took a deep breath. “My Lord, there are almost no trees in the Pass. To construct shield walls, we’ll have to use every shield we have. That will take time to collect and fasten them together.”

Modran eyed his commanders. He saw the defeat in their eyes, and realized they were in no mood to launch another attack today. “Very well. We’ll have to clear away the bodies anyway. We’ll attack again at dawn. Meanwhile, get every man with a shield and send them to the front. And we’ll hold the cavalry in reserve. We won’t break through Eskkar’s line with cavalry, not as long as he has those bowmen.”

Once the first few horses went down in the narrow confines of the Pass, their carcasses slowed the momentum of any charge. Wounded animals caused even more chaos, running about in their fright. In one action, thousands of dead men and animals already littered the slope between the two armies.

Martiya turned to the commanders, and started giving orders. In two’s and three’s, they moved off, glad to be away from their angry general. At last only he and Modran remained.

“We were warned about the Akkadian bowmen,” Martiya said. “Eskkar must have stripped the city to bring so many here. This is no holding action, no attempt to delay our passage. He’s not going to fight us from Akkad’s walls. He’s brought the walls to the Dellen Pass. He’s chosen to challenge us here, to the death. If Eskkar tries to retreat, he knows our cavalry will slaughter his entire army, bowmen or not.”

“That means the city will be undefended. And we outnumber the Akkadians here at least six to one. Once we break through, they will have nothing left to face us.”

Nevertheless, Modran didn’t like the idea of an undefended Akkad. If Chaiyanar learned Akkad’s defenses were weak, he might move his forces north toward Akkad at once, possibly even capture it. That humiliation would be worse than anything Modran could imagine.

“I don’t have the body count yet, My Lord, but we’ve lost at least fifteen hundred dead, maybe more, and more than a thousand wounded. And hundreds of horses, too. The Akkadian position is strong. We may lose half our men breaking through, and it may take days. Before we attack again, we’ll need every last man ready to fight. We’re going to need more supplies, too, My Lord. Food, water, perhaps even more men.”

Modran ground his teeth. He would look like a fool if he sent word back through the Pass that he needed more men and supplies to brush aside the Akkadians blocking his path. Already he could hear King Shirudukh’s contemptuous words.

Still, better to ask for the supplies now. His army hadn’t planned to spend any length of time in these mountains. Food and water would soon be in short supply. Once his men broke through, the request for extra supplies would mean nothing.

Modran glanced around and saw his clerks standing nearby, nervous expressions on their faces. “All right. I’ll send messengers back to Zanbil, and order them to send as much food and water as they can, and to start collecting all the wood they can find. We’ll make shields for our men. Meanwhile, drag those dead horses out of the pass. The men can eat them if they get hungry.”

Raw horse meat didn’t appeal to Martiya, but then he wouldn’t be eating any of it. He still had plenty of good food in his personal supply. “We need to clear the path anyway, My Lord. But even so, I don’t think we’ll be ready by dawn tomorrow.”

Modran had reached the same conclusion, though he refused to admit it yet. “See to it, then.”

“Just make it clear, My Lord, to our men at Zanbil that we require all the water skins and food they can carry, as well as any extra shafts for the bowmen. We may be here longer than a day or two.”

The small village of Zanbil, just a few miles east of the mountains, had served as the collection and supply depot for Modran’s army. Supplies would have continued to flow into the village, awaiting word from Lord Modran that the Elamite army had crossed the mountains and moved toward Akkad.

Modran’s teeth ground together. He hated the idea of looking up the Pass and watching Eskkar’s battle line for even one more day. “Zanbil will send everything they have, or I’ll order the village burnt to the ground and kill every man in it.”

“I wonder what other surprises this Eskkar has for us.” Martiya rubbed his jaw, and for the first time, noticed the blood.

“An Akkadian’s arrow?”

“No, My Lord. One of our men nearly poked my eye out with a sword in his rush to get out of range.”

Modran grunted at the idea of losing his top commander to some lowly, panicked soldier. He took a deep breath, and tried to regain his habitual calm. “We’ll get through this, Martiya. Use whatever time it takes to get the men ready. What about those boulders on the right side of the Pass? Can we get our men through them?”

“Perhaps. If we attack there in force we might be able to get through,” Martiya said. “If we could get a few hundred men on their flank, we could break their line. I’ll send some scouts to see if there’s a way.”

“Find a path. The longer Eskkar holds us up, the harder it will be to brush him aside.”

As soon as Eskkar realized the Elamites weren’t going to attack again today, he told his commanders to stand down the men. Alexar kept one rank of spearmen in place, just in case, and Mitrac did the same with his bowmen. The rest of the soldiers broke ranks. Some just slumped to the hard ground, too tired to move. Others sought out the water skins, or trotted off to the canyon’s walls to relieve themselves.

A babble of voices filled the Pass, as the amazed soldiers examined the dead bodies stretching from one side of the cliffs to the other. Eskkar understood their emotions. They’d just fought and survived a bloody battle, and the sound of their own voices helped reassure them that they were still alive.

He turned away from the battlefield, and glanced up the slope. The porters and bearers from Akkad continued to arrive, their eyes wide with fear, and all of them struggling under their goods. Everyone rushed to deliver their burden and depart.

One particular group caught Eskkar’s eye, and he waved his arm in recognition. Builders, carrying their tools, and laborers grunting under the weight of planks. The man in charge saw Eskkar’s gesture and paced his horse toward the King.

“Greetings, My Lord.”

“Good to see you again, Franar,” Eskkar said. Franar was one of Corio’s younger sons.

“I’m sorry for arriving so late, King Eskkar,” Franar said. “But I did not want my men to get separated. It would have been too easy for one or two to drop out or disappear, and then all my work might have been wasted. They’re as scared as rabbits, and so am I.”

“You’ve come just in time,” Eskkar said. “We’ve driven off their first attack, but tomorrow they’ll be back, and in greater force.”

“Then I’ll set my men to work, My Lord,” Franar replied. “We’ve brought torches, and if necessary we’ll work through the night. I’m sure every one of my men will be eager to leave the Dellen Pass as soon as possible and get back to Akkad.”

Eskkar nodded. The men would be glad to rush home, all the while praying to every god they could think of that they reached the safety of the city in case the Elamites broke through.

“Then I’ll leave you to your work, Franar. When you return to Akkad, give my thanks to your father.”

Eskkar found Alexar, Drakis, and Mitrac waiting for him. Shappa and Muta joined them a few moments later. The Akkadian leaders moved away from the ranks, to plan for the next battle. When they were settled on the ground, Eskkar turned to Alexar. “How many did we lose?”

“Not many, Captain.” Alexar’s voice held a hint of pride. “Sixteen spearmen were struck by arrows, seven dead. Mitrac lost just over twenty dead, or wounded and unable to fight. Shappa had twelve killed and five wounded. Muta had three men wounded.”

Insignificant losses, compared to the dead and dying Elamites scattered the length of the slope. Eskkar glanced at his commanders. “Next time we won’t be so lucky. Send any wounded who can travel back to Akkad with the supply men. Give them the horses we captured.”

Those too injured to travel would have to take their chances. Whether they lived or died depended on the gods. At least they would have food and water to ease their suffering.

“Now, let’s talk about the battle. You first, Shappa.” As always, Eskkar started with his youngest commander. He’d learned years ago that allowed the younger commanders to speak freely, without worrying about contradicting the more senior commanders.

“My men have worked our way all through the rocks, Captain,” Shappa began. “We know the paths the Elamites will have to take. This time they only sent a few into the rocks, and those struggled until we drove them off. We didn’t have much time to prepare, but the hammers and chisels we need have just arrived. We’ll start carving out footholds and scaling the rocks. My slingers and bowmen should be dug in and ready by midday.”

In the last year, at Eskkar’s suggestion, the slingers had added a new weapon to their capabilities. A small bow, smaller even than those of the Akkadian cavalry, had become the primary weapon of over two hundred slingers. The rocks and boulders of Eskkar’s left flank favored such a small weapon, intended to be used only at close range. Its smaller size made it easier to use in the rocky confines, and the bearer did not need to expose too much of himself to utilize it.

“You will have your men in the rocks tonight?” Eskkar didn’t think the enemy would try that tactic soon, but he didn’t intend to take any chances.

“My men will move into the rocks as soon as it gets dark,” Shappa said. “I’ll have thirty scouts out in the Pass, in case any Elamites try to sneak up on our position. We’ll give you plenty of warning if they do.”

“Good.” Eskkar turned to Mitrac. “Your men fought well today. Give them my thanks. Do you have sufficient arrows for the next attack?”

“Yes, Captain. Bundles continue to arrive, and we’ve almost as many shafts as we had at the start of today’s battle.”

“Franar and his builders are here. He says he will construct the fighting platforms by midmorning. You will have to man those as well.”

Eskkar had wanted to anchor the two flanks of his infantry line. Corio, Franar’s father, had suggested building a small fighting platform at either end. The wooden structure, carried plank by plank up into the Pass by Franar’s workers, would provide an elevated position for twenty archers in each structure. Saw-tooth boards at the top would allow the bowmen some measure of protection and enable them to shoot arrows at any threat to the infantry’s flanks.

Franar’s platforms had first been constructed months ago, then disassembled and taken to one of the supply depots north of Akkad. Muta had already chosen smaller bowmen who could work their weapons in close quarters. He placed them under Mitrac’s orders. All were excellent shots at close range. They would unleash their shafts at any threatened breakthrough, as well as target enemy commanders.

“We’ll be ready as soon as Franar and his workmen are finished,” Mitrac said. “Meanwhile my archers are ready, too. They’ve come to like shooting at such close range.”

Eskkar nodded. He’d watched them train. At Eskkar’s signal, Muta spoke next, then Drakis and Alexar. But the two infantry commanders had done little in today’s fighting.

“Today’s battle was a good victory,” Eskkar began, “but I think we made a mistake. We hurt the Elamites, hurt them badly, and now they are forewarned about our strength. When they come tomorrow, they will be fully prepared.”

“Our position here is very strong,” Drakis said. “As long as they can’t flank us, we can fight them man to man.”

“When their cavalry broke and turned,” Eskkar said, “we missed an opportunity. I know you and Alexar have prepared and trained your men to hold the line, but I want you to ready your men for a counterattack. The next time the Elamites look ready to break, I want to hurl our spearmen down the slope. If they crowd up again, as they did today, we should be able to slaughter hundreds more.”

Alexar laughed. “Twenty-four hundred men against twenty-five thousand. Charging downhill, over a battlefield filled with the dead and dying. My men will love that.”

“Your men won’t be the only ones surprised. It’s the last thing the Elamites will expect,” Eskkar grinned. “As we’ve learned, anytime you can surprise your enemy during a battle, you can break him. Surprise leads to confusion, which turns to fear and spreads.”

“You want us to charge them after their next attack?” Drakis sounded dubious.

“No. I want them to attack and retreat, attack and retreat. Let it settle into their heads that they can retreat in safety. Only when I think we can really hurt them will we counterattack.” Eskkar looked at his commanders. “So talk to your leaders of ten and twenty. Prepare them to attack with everything they have. When the spearmen go down the slope, we’ll need everyone to move as one, with the archers and slingers following behind. If we can beat the Elamites, hurt them badly, they’ll find an excuse to retreat all the way back to Elam.”

Drakis laughed. “We’ll give them the excuse, what’s left of them. After today’s fight, they won’t be so eager to attack Akkad again.”

“Captain, is there any word from the Jkarian Pass, or Sumer?” Mitrac asked the question that lingered in every man’s mind.

Eskkar knew Mitrac had kin riding with Hathor.

“No, only that Hathor and Naxos have reached the sea. No matter what happens at Sumer, they will make sure that Chaiyanar is too busy to move north. Nor have any reports arrived from Draelin at the Jkarian Pass. As soon as I learn anything, I’ll pass the word.”

Everyone understood. All of them had friends or kin fighting with the other forces.

“And after we drive this scum back to Elam,” Eskkar said, his voice suddenly hard, “we will march down to Sumer and finish off Grand Commander Chaiyanar.”