Clash Of Empires

Chapter 30

The morning after the battle in the Dellen Pass, Eskkar woke well before the dawn, as did his men. When the sun appeared in the sky, every Akkadian stood ready to repel a new assault. But dawn came and went, and even by midmorning, Eskkar observed no signs of another attack in the making. The Elamites, he decided, must be licking their wounds while they prepared for their next attempt.

Also, with so many men crammed into the narrow confines of the Dellen Pass, even moving a single troop from one position to another obviously required both coordination and time. No doubt Lord Modran wanted to be sure of his men and his plan before the next attack.

Whatever the reason, by midday Eskkar decided that the Elamites would not come against him today. The gods could have sent him no greater gift. Eskkar fed and rested his men, inspected their weapons, and made sure every man remembered his position. Only Shappa’s fighters kept busy, using the extra time to chisel and carve more steps and handholds into the cliffs. They widened some ledges as well, to take even more advantage of the cliff walls.

Supplies continued to arrive from Akkad, the exhausted porters dumping their loads as fast as they could. Most appeared too afraid for more than a single glance down the slope at the invaders. After receiving their payment token from the scribes, they turned around and headed for home.

Trella’s supply men had prepared enough food and weapons for fifteen days, though no one expected that Modran could stay and fight for so long, even if he were resupplied from Zanbil. But as Trella reminded Eskkar and his commanders, better to have too much on hand than too little.

During the war with Sumer, Eskkar had learned one lesson well. Victories could be won by the side that best maintained its supply lines, and ensured regular deliveries of food, water, and weapons. Trella’s efforts, even though she remained behind in Akkad, might do as much to win this battle against Modran as the sword arms of Eskkar’s men.

Alexar and Drakis kept a careful watch on the Elamites throughout the day, lest they suddenly launch a surprise attack. The long day faded into dusk, and a new worry emerged. While none of the Akkadians expected a night attack, the possibility existed. Which meant the men would sleep in their formations, weapons at the ready.

After dark, slingers would slip out into the empty space between the two armies, to keep watch on the Elamites. During the day, Eskkar had found time to grab some sleep, knowing that the night would be a long one, and that a major attack might come with the dawn.

The night passed slowly, with many alerts and challenges issued. Men imagined they heard the enemy on the move, or claimed they saw movement in the Pass. But Eskkar trusted Shappa’s sentries, skilled in moving through the darkness, to provide plenty of warning.

The first glow from the morning sun again found Eskkar fully accoutered and staring down the slope toward the Elamite position.

“They’ll come this morning,” Eskkar told Alexar and the other commanders.

“A whole day and a half to prepare, and they still aren’t ready to attack.” Drakis spat to show his contempt. “The longer they mill around, the weaker their will to fight. They’ve had plenty of time to think about dying.”

Eskkar grunted. The Elamites were brave soldiers accustomed to victory. They would find the strength to hurl themselves against Akkad’s soldiers.

“Perhaps you should talk to the men, Captain,” Mitrac suggested. “It might help them with their own preparations.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Eskkar said. He’d meant to do this yesterday, but hadn’t had time to prepare.

Nonetheless, he wanted to speak to the Akkadians, to rally them for the next encounter. However, before he did that, he needed some quiet place to think. Although with men coming and going, always asking questions or bringing reports, Eskkar knew he would have little time or private space to compose his mind. Then he thought of the one place where he could arrange his thoughts without distraction.

He summoned his guards, always standing nearby. “Petra, Chandra, come with me.”

With Petra and Chandra following a few steps behind, Eskkar strode through the ranks of spearmen and out into the Pass. He continued down the slope until he reached the first of the enemy dead, their bodies already stinking and starting to bloat. Flies crawled over the bodies, into the open mouths and blood-crusted wounds.

As he walked among them, he saw their sightless eyes, their hands raised up and frozen in death, lips drawn back, and their faces surrounded by pools of blood already turned black. All the familiar postures of violent death lay at his feet.

He recalled seeing the same poses after the Battle of Isin, when thousands of dead, dying, and wounded lay scattered across the long battle line. Here the corpses were close together, many piled up two and three deep, where men had died even as they tried to scramble over their fallen companions, either to continue the attack or seek safety.

The dead Elamites had already been stripped of their weapons and valuables, and all the usable arrows recovered by Eskkar’s soldiers. The dead always gave all their possessions to the victors. Swords, bows, arrows, knives, shields, anything useful had been carried back to the Akkadian lines. Only the bodies remained, along with the harsh smell of human waste, everything covered with flies.

Eskkar felt no sympathy for the enemy dead. Unlike these men, he had not gone to war seeking loot or glory. Elamites had come into his lands to wrest from Akkad everything and anything they could. Better that they died here than outside Akkad’s walls.

And here, in front of the Akkadian battle line and among the Elamite dead, Eskkar could find the privacy he wanted.

Ignoring the flies that buzzed around his head, Eskkar collected his thoughts as he paced back and forth across the killing ground. His soldiers deserved. . no, needed to know why they had been brought to this place to fight and possibly die. Until now, they’d followed orders without question, proof enough of their trust in Eskkar and his commanders. Today, before the next battle, Eskkar wanted to find the right words.

Petra and Chandra, mystified by their Captain’s behavior, trailed behind, probably wondering what thoughts were in his mind. Nevertheless their commander, walking through the enemy dead, found the silence he needed to prepare his words.

For more than a year, Eskkar had studied everything he could about the enemy’s tactics. Nothing he had gleaned from the merchants, informers, travelers, and spies suggested the Elamites possessed any exceptional or predominant fighting techniques — they relied primarily on their superior numbers, flanking maneuvers with their cavalry, and a brutal frontal attack driven home by their ruthless commanders. They preferred giving battle when they outnumbered opponents three or four to one, overwhelming any opposition by quick charges and flanking attacks.

Eskkar glanced down the slope, and allowed himself a grim smile as he watched the Elamites push and shove their men into position and ready themselves for another assault. By choosing to fight in the Pass with its high cliff walls, he had eliminated the threat of being encircled or attacked from the side.

As the first skirmish proved, his enemy had never encountered a situation where they couldn’t sweep an opponent’s flanks. Their greater numbers would prove to be less effective as long as he could match them man-to-man along the battle line.

No, only the direct frontal assault remained for the Elamites, and Eskkar’s Akkadians would have to withstand that. He and Trella had done everything they could to provide their soldiers with all the food, water, and weapons needed. Most of these men had trained for this battle for more than a year without knowing why. Now everything would be up to the few lines of infantry and archers that stood between the Elamites and the city of Akkad.

His men had another slight advantage. The enemy troops, made up from so many disparate sources, lacked the training to work together as a cohesive whole. Because Elamite soldiers lived apart and trained separately, each contingent would prefer to see another in the front ranks. After the last encounter, no one would want to lead the attack against Eskkar’s position.

That lack of unity and discipline now showed as the enemy jostled about, taking far longer than they should to form up into proper ranks. Akkad, with most of its forces raised and trained near the city, had none of those problems.

All warfare, Eskkar understood, relied to some extent on deception. And so Akkad had spread rumors about disagreements in the Land Between the Rivers, its lack of men and resources, and its quarrels between the cities, and their unwillingness to fight. Faced with such situations, the Elamites had assumed an inevitable victory. Instead, they suddenly found themselves committed to battle on Eskkar’s terms, and not their own.

Those rumors and lies had guided the Elamites for many months, and brought Lord Modran to this place. If he retreated, his campaign would be lost, no matter what happened at Sumer. Nor would he keep his command very long, or even his head, should he return to King Shirudukh without a victory.

Eskkar had offered Lord Modran the bait, setting the battle line here in the Dellen Pass. As soon as Modran encountered Akkad’s soldiers in the last place he expected them to be, Modran should have turned his army around and retreated back through the Pass. If he’d returned to Zanbil at once, he could have gathered enough shields and supplies, before re-entering the Pass. If he had done that, even if it took a month to reassemble and march back, Modran and his army would likely have prevailed.

Instead, after the encounter of two days ago, Modran now had to press ahead, whatever his casualties. He dared not retreat after such losses. He had to break the Akkadian line, or face King Shirudukh’s wrath. Today would decide whether Modran and his men had the will to overcome Akkad’s discipline and training.

Midday approached, and Eskkar smiled at the enemy’s slow preparations for the coming attack. He had expected to fight early this morning, with the sun in his eyes, but the Elamites had taken far longer to arrange their forces, and before long the sun’s bright rays would have little effect.

His own men had greeted the dawn in their battle lines, in case Lord Modran’s forces chose to attack at first light. Since then, the Akkadians remained at their posts, sitting or standing as they pleased, their weapons strewn about the rocky ground at their feet. Many soldiers moved about, stretching tense muscles, or sharpening their swords. Some of the spearmen, likely to cover their nervousness, stepped into the open space and practiced with their weapons.

Regardless, the Elamites would soon be advancing, and Eskkar decided the time had come to talk to his soldiers. He wanted them to know not only what to expect in the coming battle, but more important, the reasons why they fought. And he’d wanted to tell them at the last moment, so that no one could forget his words, or what was at stake — the very life and death of Akkad.

Today was, as Trella had reminded him, one of those special times when he had to address his troops, and give his men a reason to fight. Most soldiers, Eskkar knew, fought only as hard as required. No fighter wanted to die attempting to do more than necessary. For this battle, however, Eskkar knew his men would have to fight beyond even their own expectations.

His thoughts arranged, Eskkar left the field of the dead. Walking briskly, he returned to the Akkadian lines, passing through the infantry and archers until he reached the place where the commanders’ horses waited. Eskkar swung onto A-tuku’s back.

He took a moment to arrange his cloak so that it draped properly over his shoulders. A bronze breastplate, with the image of a desert hawk etched upon its surface, protected his chest. Another plate covered his back, fastened to the breastplate by leather laces over his shoulders and around his waist.

The bronze armor, thick enough to stop an arrow or turn aside a sword stroke, fitted Eskkar’s tall frame perfectly. Trella had seen to that. Countless sessions with Akkad’s best metal workers ensured that the armor hugged Eskkar’s body without restricting his movements.

Thick leather gauntlets guarded each forearm, from wrist to elbow. Last, Eskkar slung his long horse sword across his back, the hilt jutting up over his right shoulder. A bronze helmet completed his armor, but for now, Eskkar left it with his guards, letting his long hair frame his face.

Taking his time, Eskkar guided A-tuku back through the ranks of cavalry, archers, and infantry. The soldiers moved aside to give the King room to pass. Once past the formation, Eskkar let the horse take a few more steps before he guided it around and faced his men.

Silence fell over the ranks. Slowly the shuffling of feet ceased, and every eye turned toward the King. Since Eskkar preferred talking to his soldiers in small groups, his men knew to expect something important.

Eskkar understood that the right words might inspire the men. He also understood that the wrong words might weaken their resolve. More than a few of his soldiers had no fighting experience, and fear would be gnawing at their hearts. To fight against so numerous an adversary took both courage and trust. Words could make a difference.

At such critical times, Eskkar had often struggled to control his nervousness at addressing so many. But now he felt calm, and he knew the words would come without hesitation.

With a final pat on A-tuku’s shoulder, Eskkar took a deep breath. From his position at the center of the line, his voice would carry to either side of the Pass.

“Men of Akkad.” He looked left and right, and saw that everyone had given him their attention. “Today we fight to save our city, and our lands, from the Elamite invasion. Many of you have wondered why we chose this place to give battle, instead of waiting behind our walls with our friends and families.”

“And in the alehouses!” The rude words came from one of the archers, leaning on his bow.

The men laughed, and Eskkar smiled broadly, despite the interruption. This was no crowd of farmers or tavern keepers, sheep to be ordered about in silence, but brave and independent fighters. He had fought and trained with these men, some of them for years, and they had earned the right to speak their minds, even if only in jest. In his turn, Eskkar would tell the truth to them, and they would understand.

“The alehouses will be waiting when we get back home. But to save Akkad, we must first drive these Elamites back down the Pass. Your commanders and I, and Lady Trella, have planned many months for this day. We knew more than a year ago that this invasion was coming. After we took count of our soldiers and our defenses, we realized that, trapped behind Akkad’s walls, we could not withstand such a vast army as now faces us.”

Eskkar told them about the three-pronged invasion forces now marching into the Land Between the Rivers. “Hathor, with our cavalry, has joined together with Isin and Sumer, to break the siege of Sumer. The Elamite horsemen coming through the Jkarian Pass, will be turned back by Engineer Alcinor and his artisans. However here, we must face the brunt of the Elamites. We are greatly outnumbered, but the narrow width of the Pass ensures that we cannot be flanked, and that the enemy cannot overrun us by sheer numbers.”

He let his eyes roam the ranks, and saw no signs of anything more than the usual nervousness that preceded every battle. “Our enemy is unprepared for this fight, while we have trained for nothing else. From Akkad, Lady Trella continues to send us what we need to fight. The Elamites are many, but they have only a few days supply of food and water. Nor will they be able to resupply from their own storehouses. By now, Sargon and a large force of Alur Meriki and Ur Nammu warriors have crossed the northern mountains and fallen upon the Elamite villages and supply lines.”

That brought some murmurs from the assembled host. Many had wondered why Sargon was not at his father’s side. Others wondered why not even a small force of Ur Nammu warriors had come to fight beside them, as they had done in the war against Sumer.

Eskkar held up his hand to quiet the men. “That means the enemy will fight here only with what they brought, and with each day that we hold them off, they will grow weaker and weaker. Though we Akkadians chose to fight here, we do not fight alone. The cities of Sumer, Isin, and the others in the Land Between the Rivers stand with us, even as we stand with them.”

Another cheer broke out, and Eskkar waited a few moments. “So it only remains for us to break the Elamites’ will. When they first came into this Pass, they expected us to tremble in fear at the sight of them and their numbers. They thought they could brush us aside without effort. Instead, we killed many and drove them back. Now it is they who know fear. They ran from our arrows and spears, and today they will dread every step they take toward our lines.”

He gestured down the slope. “Look at their dead, lying in their path. They will trod on their own kind, and know what fate awaits them. When we break their attack here, when they see that they cannot pass, they will be forced to return to their own lands, desperate for food and water. It will be many years, if ever, before they dare to challenge Akkad’s soldiers and the Land Between the Rivers!”

“Akkad! Akkad! Akkad!” The soldiers gave voice to their pride, and this time the shouts continued. Eskkar held up his hand, and at last they grew quiet. “We’ve won the first battle. But today, each of you must fight not only for yourselves and the man standing beside you, but for all your comrades here. Remember your families back home. If we fail here, your families and friends in Akkad will suffer slavery and death. You must fight with as much strength as if we stood atop the city’s walls. You will show these invaders the might of the soldiers of Akkad.”

Eskkar drew his sword and raised it high. “And today, I will fight beside you, and the Elamites will break themselves on our shield wall.” Eskkar took another deep breath, and then, in his most powerful command voice, bellowed out the challenge. “We will not let the Elamites pass!”

Knowing their King would fight beside them brought a roar of assent that echoed off the cliff walls. The spearmen joined in, striking their thick weapons against their shields, until the noise turned into a savage drumming that elevated the men’s shouts to a new crescendo that seemed like it would never cease. The din, amplified by the cliff walls, rolled down the Pass.

Eskkar glanced over his shoulder. He saw the Elamites staring up at the Akkadians, uneasy about this challenge, wondering what it meant, and more than a little nervous about what was to come. “Akkadians! Remember only this — kill the man in front of you! No one, not I, not Akkad, not your companions, will ask more than that!”

Another roar went up. Eskkar turned A-tuku’s head and rode up and down the line. “Akkad! Akkad!” He shouted the war cry again and again, and the soldiers repeated the name, louder and louder, until it appeared the very walls of the Pass had joined in the refrain. The sound echoed from the cliffs with such force that it seemed that they would collapse in on them.

Satisfied, Eskkar rode back through the formation. Dismounting, he ordered A-tuku taken to the rear, along with his cloak and long sword. That weapon would be of little use in close combat. The Elamites, now shouting their own war cries, had finally started to move. Eskkar pulled his leather-lined bronze helmet over his head, and laced the straps under his chin.

The heavy metal protected most of his forehead, while two long strips of bronze covered his temples, and reached nearly to the bottom of his ears. Belting his shorter sword around his waist, he accepted his shield from Pekka, and moved behind the ranks of the infantry at the center of the line.

It would be the most dangerous position within the formation, the place where the battle line would be most likely to sag, and Eskkar wanted the men beside him to be aware of his presence. The Elamites would have to kill Akkad’s king if they wanted to break Eskkar’s spearmen.

All this had been planned earlier with his commanders. Mitrac commanded the archers, and once again he would launch the arrow storm the moment the Elamites drew within range. His bowmen needed no further orders on how to pick their targets, or when to shoot.

Alexar had the left flank, anchored by the rocks and with the slingers above him. Drakis commanded the right flank, with the high cliff walls at his side. Both he and Alexar had support from the picked bowmen on Franar’s platforms.

Muta would hold some of his cavalry in reserve, but the rest, with their shorter bows, would fight dismounted, to augment Mitrac’s archers at closer range. Muta would also send the reserves into position as needed. Shappa, too, had already received his orders — hold the rocky flank and make certain no Elamites worked their way through the boulders.

Eskkar turned his attention to the invaders, on the move at last. Like a flowing river of men, they advanced through the Pass, crossing the low point and then beginning the gradual rise that led, six hundred paces ahead, to the ranks of the Akkadians. Despite their first repulse, the Elamites looked confident enough. They knew they had the advantage in numbers.

The forces of Akkad took up their positions. No shouts of bravado any longer. As they had trained, they readied themselves in silence, the better to hear the orders of their commanders. That very silence, Eskkar knew, would unsettle the enemy. He had learned that in the lands of the Elamites, both sides would shout their challenges before the fighting began, each hoping to frighten their opponent.

The invaders started up the slope, the first rank holding their shields to the front, while those behind raised shields overhead to protect against the descending arrows. The Akkadian infantry, too, waited patiently. By now less than four hundred paces separated the two armies.

Eskkar glanced at Mitrac, standing behind his bowmen, bow in his left hand with an arrow already fitted to the string, while his right hand blocked the sun’s rays from his eyes. If he saw Eskkar’s glance, Mitrac ignored it. When he deemed the enemy was within range, Mitrac would give the command to unleash the arrow storm.

The Elamites increased their pace, gathering momentum and preparing to come to grips with the Akkadians. Then Eskkar heard the enemy battle horn echo up the slope, and with a shout, the mass of Elamites started moving faster and faster.

Nonetheless, Mitrac’s clear voice carried up and down the line. “Remember, shaft to the string, string to the ear, and arrow to the mark.”

That adage had been part of the men’s training for more than ten years. It reminded the archers to make sure they fit the shaft properly to the bowstring, and then fully draw the weapon, so that the arrow would be launched with the maximum force. Eskkar heard many of the bowmen repeating the saying, as if to take strength from their commander’s words.

“Draw!” Mitrac’s command lifted every bow, the sharp bronze arrow tip pointed halfway to the sky.

Eskkar saw the first rank of Elamites had reached one of the marker stones. Mitrac’s lead bowmen had identified three boulders that marked the distances for the archers. The farthest one stood two hundred and fifty paces away. A long shot, but not impossible, given the Akkadians’ stronger bows and their advantage of holding the higher ground.

“Loose!”

With a whistling sound, the first flight of arrows rose up into the air. Before most of the shafts had reached their highest point, another sixteen hundred missiles sped toward the Elamites. By the time the first arrows arrived, a third flight had leapt from the bowstrings.

The first wave, launched at extreme range, did little. Eskkar saw just a hundred or so shafts reach the Elamites, and most of those impaled themselves on the enemy’s shields. But a few short moments later, the second wave arrived, only a little more ragged than the first. The extra paces the enemy had advanced made a difference, and Eskkar guessed more than a thousand arrows of the second volley had rained down upon the advancing ranks.

As before, many struck the shield wall. But this time a few shafts slipped between or underneath the wooden protection, or struck the third and fourth ranks of the enemy soldiers. The advance slowed a trifle, though it continued on. Even so, the closer the Elamites came, the greater the force that each striking arrow would impart. By now the fall of arrows on the Elamites was continuous, as the more efficient bowmen worked their weapons as quickly as possible.

The enemy, racing up the slope as fast as they could run, slowed as gaps appeared in the front ranks and those immediately behind them. Akkadian arrows continued to fall, striking harder now as the range decreased. At two hundred paces, the Elamite archers, several ranks deep just behind the shield wall, began shooting their own shafts.

But the distance remained yet too great for their smaller bows, and the Elamite bowmen had to expose themselves to use their weapons.

Nevertheless, the Elamites grimly charged on, determined to close with their enemy. At a hundred and fifty paces, the Akkadian cavalry, more than a thousand men fighting on foot, began to arch their own, smaller shafts, up into the sky. With their arrows added into Mitrac’s volleys, nearly twenty-five hundred bowmen loosed death on the invaders, a steady stream of missiles that tore into any exposed flesh and added to the toll of dead and wounded.

The Elamite archers in their now ragged formation, trying to aim their shafts on the run, could barely reach the Akkadians. Already the enemy front rank had been torn apart, the shield bearers either dead, wounded, or falling back, leaving the massed archers without protection. Arrows plunged into the throng of men, some enemy soldiers struck two and three times.

The bodies of the dead from the first battle now hampered their advance and threatened to disrupt their formation. New casualties added to the problem, slowing their progress and opening up wider gaps in the Elamite front line.

Arrows continued to fly. Eskkar had no idea of how many shafts Mitrac’s archers had launched. Eskkar gazed at his bowmen, saw their thick arms and powerful shoulders working without ceasing, their tall bodies supported by sturdy legs.

Lesser men would have begun to tire, but these Akkadian bowmen had practiced their craft for many long days. They still had plenty of strength to pull each shaft to the ear before releasing, as Mitrac demanded.

In a normal battle, the archers would have emptied their quivers by now, turning themselves into simple swordsmen, with little leather armor to protect them. But replacement shafts continued to arrive, as supply men dashed between the lines, carrying fresh quivers to the grunting archers.

Despite their losses, the Elamites pressed on. Their archers had finally drawn within effective range, and loosed their arrows. Most of the shafts imbedded themselves in the spearmen’s shields, but within moments, the enemy arrows extended their reach into the Akkadian bowmen. The Elamite leaders, sensing that their men could close the gap, encouraged the men forward, shouting at them to rush in and kill the Akkadians.

The Elamite advance, slowed somewhat by Mitrac’s arrow storm, burst into a run as they began their final charge. However their once-even lines and formations had deteriorated into a ragged mass of infantry, some still carrying shields, but most just waving swords. Now the attackers were less than forty paces away, screaming their war cries.

Eskkar, peering over the top of his shield, noticed them breathing hard, weakened by their rapid advance up the slope. For a few moments, Mitrac’s archers continued to pour shafts into the crowd of men coming toward them. But at about twenty five paces, the Akkadians could no longer safely target the enemy front ranks. The bows rose up, and again targets were selected from the rear ranks.

The shouting Elamites, relieved to avoid Akkad’s arrows at last, raised their swords and hurled themselves toward the Akkadian shield wall. But before they had closed to within ten paces, Alexar shouted another order, the drum boomed out, and the first two ranks of Akkadian infantry burst into a run, as they charged the oncoming Elamites.

The first line held their spears low, the back part of the shaft gripped tight between the inner arm and chest. The second rank carried their spears in the usual position, the long weapon held level above the shoulder, ready to thrust forward at any target that presented itself.

The Akkadians needed only a step or two to add momentum to their attack, and their long spears ripped into the onrushing Elamites. Sharp spear points burst through shields and bodies, the weapons sometimes passing through a man’s belly and into the flesh of a soldier in the second rank.

Caught by surprise at the unexpected counterattack, the invaders hesitated. It didn’t matter. The long spears were again thrust forward, impaling the attackers. Even when an infantry man lost his spear, ripped from his grasp by a dying enemy, the Akkadian simply lowered his shoulder behind his shield and drove forward, drawing his sword and wielding it as efficiently as a spear, striking upward with short, savage thrusts. For a few moments, the Akkadians continued the killing.

Nevertheless, the overwhelming numbers of the Elamites halted the charging line of the Akkadians. But before the enemy could overwhelm them, Alexar’s drum beat out again, this time with a different rhythm.

The first two ranks of Akkadian spearmen fell back with a rush. They darted and twisted through the third and fourth ranks, who moved forward to take their place. Two more ranks of fresh spears again greeted the invaders. The Akkadians aimed for their enemy’s face and upper body, and the screams of the wounded now rose up, as flesh was torn from bone.

Another wave of enemy soldiers went down, the dead bodies often wrenching the spears from the Akkadians’ hands.

The savage counterattacks slowed the Elamite advance for a few moments. Then, pushed by the steadily advancing rear ranks, the sheer weight of enemy soldiers shoved the Akkadian spearmen back. All the same, in those few moments the first two ranks of Alexar’s infantry had reformed their line, many of the men snatching up new spears from those stocks carried into the Pass by the supply men. Now the third and fourth ranks of Akkadians fell back, dodging between their companions. Then with a crash that echoed off the cliff walls, the two armies came together.

Akkad’s spearmen, even faced with such overwhelming numbers, still managed to take a step or two forward before the collision, using the force of their bodies to drive home their long weapons. But after that, the first rank of spearmen had no opportunity to use their spears.

Instead they snatched swords from their scabbards, and flung themselves against their shields, pushing desperately with their feet, trying to keep their footing even as they thrust their blades into the legs, bellies, faces, and shoulders of their attackers.

The deafening din increased, as section by section, the entire Akkadian battle line stretched across the Pass stood against the surging Elamites. For a few moments, the Akkadians, tucked behind their shield wall, had the advantage. The second and third ranks could still use their spears, driving them into the screaming faces of the Elamites. But then, slowly, inexorably, the spearmen were pushed backwards by the greater numbers of their attackers.

Many of the dead Elamites remained upright, unable to fall to the ground while the two armies pressed against each other. Nothing could be heard over screams of the dying and wounded, the roars of men fighting with all their strength, and the clash of arms.

Despite the onslaught, the Akkadians held their formation. But although the Elamites had not trained for such a close-fought encounter, the sheer mass of the attackers made Alexar’s infantry take that first step backward.

Eskkar realized the danger. Another pace or two to the rear, and the line would be overwhelmed. Drawing his sword, he rushed to the center of the line, already pushed out of shape. “Chandra, Pekka, Myandro, to me!”

Some Akkadian bowmen, with no good targets at such close range, dropped their weapons, drew their swords, and joined the fray. Many of them flung themselves against the spearmen’s backs and pushed with all their strength, everyone straining to halt the enemy’s advance.

Most of Mitrac’s men, however, kept their bows in hand. Each time the Akkadian line sagged rearward, opening the slightest gap between the two forces, Mitrac’s bowmen shot shaft after shaft into the disordered ranks. Meanwhile Muta’s archers, from their slightly elevated position, kept shooting at the Elamite rear ranks, trying to slow the assault.

A spearman, struck by two men at the same time, collapsed at Eskkar’s feet. Using his shield and bulk, Eskkar hurled himself into the gap, thrusting his sword into a man’s face so hard that the enemy’s attempt to block the sword failed. Then Eskkar used the pommel on a second Elamite pressed up against his shield. With help from Pekka and Chandra and the other Hawk Clan guards pushing with all their strength, they thrust the Akkadian line back into position.

Mitrac and his most skilled bowmen still plied their weapons, stepping close to the battle line to shoot precisely aimed arrows from distances as short as a pace or two, into the heads of enemy soldiers. One Akkadian shaft grazed Eskkar’s helmet before finding its mark.

The battle raged on, everyone shouting and screaming, hacking and grunting, men cursing as they struggled, the sound of sword on shield, or blade on blade making a din that now overcame even the screams of the wounded and dying.

Only the brute strength of Akkad’s infantry prevented the Elamites from breaking the line. Pushing with their shields and thrusting with their swords, they piled up the Elamite dead in heaps. The Akkadian spearmen stepped on the corpses and wounded as they wielded their weapons. The line wavered and bent, but it did not break.

Eskkar, as battle-crazed as only a barbarian from the steppes could be, roared his family’s war cry as he fought in the front line. One enemy sword thrust was blunted by his breastplate, and a second by the gauntlet on his right arm. But Eskkar turned aside the enemy’s strokes, using his shield even as he jabbed with his sword.

While he might no longer have the strength of his youth, Eskkar’s height and bulk gave him an advantage. The long years of self-discipline and daily training ensured that he yet possessed plenty of power in his sword arm.

The assault, still in doubt, continued. The longer the fighting raged, the harder the Elamites fought, taking strength from their numbers. Eskkar sensed it, and increased his efforts to drive back the center. But the enemy held their line, and Eskkar felt himself driven back a step. He redoubled his efforts, killing two men in as many strokes, but even that success required another step to the rear.

Then suddenly, some of the pressure against his shield abated. To his surprise, the Elamites slowed their advance. Nevertheless, the outcome remained uncertain. Eskkar saw the enemy soldiers glancing to their right, toward the boulders. Through the din, he heard a new sound — the young and higher pitched voices of Shappa’s men. From the heights of the cliff on the Akkadian left flank, slingers and bowmen were hurling their stones or loosing their shafts into the crowded group beneath them.

Eskkar fought on, until those opposing him took a few steps back. Then a group of Muta’s fresh reserves surged into the front rank, interposing themselves between the enemy and their King. Their courage and ferocity allowed Eskkar to disengage from the battle line and assess the situation.

Holding his shield to his eyes, he scanned the field of battle from side to side. The left cliff wall and boulders seemed alive with slingers, all of them screaming and launching their missiles into the mass of Elamites below.

Breathing hard, it took a moment before Eskkar grasped the situation. The slingers must have driven back the Elamite soldiers attempting to force their way through the boulders, and now they had turned their weapons against those enemy soldiers assaulting Eskkar’s left flank. He saw that the Elamite attack on his left had faltered, and the enemy was moving backward, unused to this type of assault from above.

That meant the center needed to stand firm no matter what. “Hold the line!” Eskkar shouted. “Hold the center!”

He glanced to his right, where the battle line had also sagged rearward. The enemy had drawn even with the fighting platform, leaving it almost exposed. But Drakis, commanding on the right side, now hurled his reserves into the line. Muta, too, surged the rest of his archers forward into the center and the right flank. Another blast of arrows, launched directly into the screaming faces of the enemy, halted the surge and drove them back.

In those few moments, the Akkadian spearmen in the center regrouped their line into its normal deadly formation. Some had snatched up fresh spears, and now they rushed forward, thrusting with their weapons and using their shields, driving back the Elamites on the Akkadian left flank.

Alexar had also managed to regroup his spearmen. Despite the heat of battle, he ordered a counterattack, and his men surged forward against the retreating Elamites. But Alexar quickly saw a better opportunity and halted his men’s advance. Instead he bellowed the order that turned them toward the still desperate struggle in the center. With a deep roar, two ranks of Akkadian infantry struck the center of the Elamites.

Eskkar quickly took in the change in tactics. He glanced to his right, and saw Drakis shouting and pushing his men back into position. The right flank was going to hold. Only the danger to the center still threatened to break the line. Eskkar raised his sword. “To me!” His words boomed over his men. Calling out the names of his guards, he moved back into the line, strengthening the center.

Again Eskkar found himself in the forefront, with men attacking him from three sides. But an arrow from Mitrac’s great war bow penetrated one man’s eye, snapping the man’s head back. Eskkar blocked one thrust with his shield and another with his sword. Then a Hawk Clan guard thrust a long spear into the belly of the Elamite on Eskkar’s right. Whirling his heavy blade around, Eskkar struck the forearm of the man pinned against his shield, sending the enemy soldier to his knees with a nearly severed arm.

A small volley of arrows from Mitrac’s archers helped to halt the Elamites, already reeling from Alexar’s charge. The enemy began to give ground, moving backward. Those who still had shields ducked behind them, while others just retreated as quickly as they could.

Those few arrows were more than the Elamites could bear. They had fought bravely enough. But with most of their shields gone, they didn’t have the discipline to smash through the bristling wall of Akkadian spears. Nor did they have sufficient archers to disrupt their enemies.

The now ragged advance stopped, and no amount of orders could drive the Elamites forward again. Too many of their fighters had ducked behind their own men. They knew it was certain death to stay in the front ranks.

In twos and threes, they turned and slipped back through the mass of men who still had not engaged the Akkadians. However small that first retreat, it quickly spread through the remaining ranks of the Elamites. The entire forward movement collapsed, as more and more of the leading elements abandoned the attack and fled, their panic spreading to those behind them.

Now Mitrac’s archers, snatching up their bows once again, finished the ruin of the assault. They targeted anyone who held his ground. Individual Elamite commanders and subcommanders, many still urging their men to resume the fight, died under the onslaught of arrows, some men struck by four and five shafts.

Once started, no effort by the enemy leaders, those few who survived, could hold them back. All the Elamites began to retreat, desperate to get away from the deadly spears, not to mention the never-ending arrows and stones that seemed to find every gap in their shields or armor.

The enemy, unwilling to face Akkad’s reforming shield wall, kept moving backward. Another wave of arrows struck at them, and turned the retreat into a rout. The Elamites broke, lost what little discipline remained, and ran for the rear, ignoring the exhortations of their commanders.

The ground, covered with Elamite dead and wounded, hindered their retreat as much as it had held up their advance. Arrows struck unprotected backs, knocking many of the fleeing men to their knees. The slaughter continued until the Akkadian arrows could no longer reach the disorganized Elamites.

The second Elamite attack had failed.

All the same, the arrow storm that followed the Elamites back down the slope was far less than it had been at the beginning of the attack. Many of the Akkadian archers had dropped their bows to draw swords. Other bowmen had been killed, and some were just too exhausted to fight. Before a man could count to thirty, the Elamites were scrambling out of range.

Eskkar watched the enemy soldiers, once down the slope and out of range, slump to the earth in exhaustion, despair visible in their movements even at that distance. He realized his own arm was shaking, and looked down to find a line of blood dripping from his shoulder. Something, an arrow or a sword, had nicked the upper part of his right arm.

“Bring a bandage for the King,” Chandra called out.

Eskkar glanced at his bodyguard, and saw Chandra swaying on his feet, a bloody gash on his left arm. “Where’s Pekka?”

Chandra shook his head. “He went down with an arrow in his mouth.”

Eskkar grimaced, too tired even to swear at Pekka’s demise. A good man who had served his Lord faithfully for many years.

Hamati, one of the lead bowmen, moved to Eskkar’s side. “Let me clean your sword, My Lord.”

Numbly, Eskkar let Hamati take the weapon from his grasp. Someone handed him a water skin, and Eskkar drank deeply, then splashed water on his face. By then he’d caught his breath.

Alexar and Drakis moved up and down the ranks, steadying their men, and shouting out words of praise for the bravest. Their subcommanders ordered their men, in groups of ten and twenty, back behind the lines to refresh themselves from the water skins.

That water, carried by brute strength up into the Pass from the spring thirty miles distant, now proved its value. The thirsty Akkadians gulped down as much as they could hold, then returned to their positions, permitting another detachment to follow their example.

By the time the sweating men had quenched their thirst, and resupplied themselves with new spears or more arrows, most had recovered their determination. In spite of their losses, the Akkadians had once again driven back the enemy.

Nevertheless, everywhere Eskkar gazed, he saw exhausted men. The archers and spearmen, their arms numb with fatigue, dropped to the ground and tried to catch their breath. The close-in fighting had continued far too long, and hundreds of Akkadians were down, dead or wounded. The Elamites had nearly broken through.

Eskkar watched as men fell to their knees. Others leaned on their swords or spears for support. Those most tired or injured lay prostrate, too weak even to lift their heads. Some of the Akkadian dead lay in mounds two or three high. Alexar’s infantry had been forced to tread on the dead and wounded from both sides in order to come to grips with their enemy. Looking down the slope, Eskkar saw even higher piles of enemy dead.

“Get the commanders.” Eskkar needed to take a deep breath before he could shout the order. “Clear the battlefield of our dead.”

The fight might have ended for now, but much remained before anyone could dare relax. The Elamites could renew the assault at any moment.

However Modran’s soldiers had received a brutal mauling, and were in no mood for a second attack. After a careful study of the discouraged Elamites, many still gasping for breath on their knees, Eskkar realized that the fighting had indeed ended for the day. The second battle of the Dellen Pass was over, and his Akkadians still held the Pass.