Clash Of Empires

Chapter 36

The Elamite supply station at Zanbil. .

The morning after the capture of the supply depot at Zanbil, Sargon awoke to find he had slept through the dawn, something he had not done in months. Groggy, he pushed himself to his feet, and discovered that the sun had already lifted clear of the horizon. He and Garal had spread their blankets in a quiet place next to one of the huts. To Sargon’s surprise and despite the hard ground, he enjoyed a good night’s rest for the first time since they started riding east.

The strain of riding for days on end, and not even knowing if they could reach Zanbil in time, had worn on Sargon’s nerves. War, he’d come to realize, occupied a man’s thoughts from dawn until dusk, and then plagued the night’s rest.

This coming fight — he regarded the capture of the village yesterday as nothing of consequence — would be his first campaign. This time he bore a good share of the responsibility for the plan’s success or failure. Unlike Garal and most of the warriors, Sargon had all the worries that went with any campaign — would they reach their goal, would they achieve their objective, would the Elamites fall upon them and destroy all of them.

Another concern — would he fight bravely or would he dishonor his name — troubled him as well. Thoughts of whether he might die in battle always lingered, as they did with every warrior, in the back of his mind.

Sargon had worked with his father and Chief Bekka to map out the route as well as the timing. Sargon’s presence with the Alur Meriki was meant to ensure that the warriors played their role in the battle, and did not wander off on some senseless raid to loot and pillage. Though Sargon never mentioned it, Chief Bekka understood that Sargon would decide when the Alur Meriki’s oath to Eskkar had been fulfilled.

Part of the responsibility for stopping the entire Elamite invasion now rested on Sargon’s shoulders. His concern also included the warriors themselves, already hundreds of miles from their homes, in a hostile land, with a large and formidable army of fighting men ready to fall upon them. Mistakes on his part might mean the deaths of hundreds, including many of his friends.

The easy capture of Zanbil had resolved little. To the north, General Jedidia and his six thousand horsemen might emerge from the Jkarian Pass any day, on route to Zanbil for supplies and another pathway to the Land Between the Rivers.

To the west, Lord Modran and his forces, should they fail to breach Eskkar’s defense of the Dellen Pass, might turn about and fall upon the Alur Meriki. Farther to the south lay the large city of Sushan, which, if his mother’s spies were correct, now housed the Elamite King and his own force of dangerous Immortals.

Nevertheless, now was not the time for such apprehensions. Sargon went down to the stream, to relieve himself and wash his face and hands. The warriors had occupied the village because the clean flowing stream was far too valuable to ignore. Later, after he ate a healthy meal from the Elamite supplies, he intended to take a swim and clean his clothes. But when he straightened up from his ablutions, he found Garal, always an early riser, striding toward him.

“Sargon! Come at once,” Garal said. “Our men have captured some riders coming through the Pass.”

He and Garal jogged across the village until they reached the place where Chief Bekka, Subutai, and the other clan leaders had gathered. Ten or twelve warriors, their horses tethered nearby, surrounded three prisoners kneeling on the ground. Sargon saw the fear on their faces, as they stared wide-eyed at the menacing barbarians encircling them.

Sargon moved closer to the Elamites, but waited until Bekka told Sargon to proceed. Then he turned to face the wretched men, now staring up at him.

“If you wish to live, if you wish to avoid being tortured, you will answer my questions, truthfully and without hesitation. Or you can choose silence, and the torture will begin.”

They seemed surprised that any of the barbarians spoke their language, but they all hastened to assure Sargon of their cooperation. His mother had suggested that not many of the Elamites would be eager to die for their King.

Sargon ordered the men separated. Then he and Garal began the interrogation. This one lasted much longer than yesterday’s, as these men had much more information to divulge. The men were questioned, and each man’s answers compared to the other two. Well before midmorning, Sargon felt certain he had extracted the truth from them.

He and Garal joined the three clan chiefs still in Zanbil, Bekka, Subutai, and Suijan. Den’rack, Virani, and the others had departed to patrol the approaches to the village.

“What did you learn?” Chief Bekka’s voice had a hard edge. No doubt he, too, worried about the Elamite forces that might easily surround him.

“The day before yesterday, Modran’s army reached my father’s battle line and tried to break through. Apparently the fighting lasted some time. The Elamites were repulsed, and with heavy losses. Modran is preparing to attack again. But in case his army is delayed, he sent these three messengers back to Zanbil, to demand more supplies be sent on ahead, especially food and water, and as fast as possible. Then the messengers were to continue on until they reached King Shirudukh at the city of Sushan. They would tell Shirudukh of Akkad’s decision to fight the decisive battle inside the Dellen Pass. The riders took extra horses, and rode all day and into the night. Last night they halted about ten miles away, when it finally became too dark to ride.”

“Two days ago?” Bekka rubbed his chin in surprise. “That means they covered more than seventy miles through the Pass in less than two days. I didn’t think dirt eaters could ride that well.”

Sargon decided that now was not the time to remind Bekka that, in the past, the warriors had frequently underestimated the capabilities of the villagers. “Modran demanded that the messengers travel as fast as they could, even if it meant killing the horses.”

Bekka shrugged. “At least your father has survived the first encounter, and this Modran now realizes it may take some time to break through the Pass. It also means that Modran is not already on his way here.”

“The prisoners didn’t think Modran would attack again for another day or so,” Sargon said. “If this is true, and my father can hold them off in a second battle, Modran will soon be desperate for the supplies he is already expecting. If we can occupy Zanbil for another two or three days, the Elamites may have to retreat.”

“If Eskkar drives them off,” Bekka said, “we may soon have nine thousand Elamite horsemen coming back through the Pass, looking for food and water. Yet if there is nothing here for them to eat, we should be able to out ride and out fight them easily enough.”

If the Elamites were low on food and water, their cavalry would ride as hard as they could to reach this place. The rest of Modran’s infantry fighters wouldn’t be far behind, driven by the same need.

“All the same, his army is not likely to abandon their attack for some time. It will probably be another few days before we learn what happens. .”

The sound of a galloping horse interrupted the conversation. In moments, a sweating warrior on a well-lathered horse pulled up before the Sarum.

“Chief Bekka, we spotted a supply train coming up the trail from the south. At least two hundred pack animals, and perhaps fifty or sixty guards, about half of them mounted. Chief Suijan and Chief Den’rack have moved their men out of sight, to let the dirt eaters approach this place.”

Bekka glanced at Sargon.

“I suggest, Chief Bekka,” Sargon said, “that we let them ride in. You might conceal some of your warriors in the huts, and we could bring out the women and prisoners. Seeing them standing about should help lure the Elamites into the village.”

Bekka never hesitated. “Do it.”

Sargon turned to Garal, and soon the two of them were giving orders, shifting men from place to place, and removing any signs of their warriors. In the center of the village, Sargon stood beside the eight women who had survived the raid. Many of them were scarcely able to walk, after the repeated rapes. Most were bruised as well, but Sargon knew that those signs wouldn’t be visible until the supply column had fully entered Zanbil.

Sargon told the women what would happen to them if they tried to warn the approaching Elamites. Since they knew how many men Sargon had at his call, they nodded dejectedly. They understood that only Sargon’s presence had saved their lives yesterday.

He stood there as the long line of men and animals wended their way into the village. The leader had nearly reached the marketplace before he noticed something was amiss. Sargon shouted the order, then pushed the women back toward their hut.

Warriors burst from the nearby huts, bows in hand, shouting their war cries, and loosing shafts as fast as they could. The Elamite commander leading the column managed to grasp his sword, but two arrows struck him from his horse, his blade still half in its scabbard. Most of the warriors used their bows. Others pulled guards from their horses using their swords or impaled them with their lances.

Many of the Elamites tried to flee, but now hundreds of warriors, previously out of sight to the east and north, galloped at full speed, to cut off any possibility of escape. In moments, a ring of mounted clan warriors encircled Zanbil.

The guards, caught by surprise, had little chance. By the time the last of Den’rack’s warriors arrived, almost all of the Elamites were dead, and the rest died moments later. Garal ordered the men to secure the pack animals and collect the weapons.

Before long Sargon faced another four prisoners kneeling in the dirt, the only survivors of the supply column. By now, Sargon knew exactly what to say and what to demand. His third interrogation took little time, and soon he and Garal stood once again before Chief Bekka.

“The men guarding the supply column say that there is only one more caravan coming behind them. It should arrive here in two days. After that, Lord Modran’s forces will be expected to live off Akkad’s lands, or get supplies from Sumer. The supply caravans were to keep Modran’s men fed until they were through the Dellen Pass and could establish the siege around Akkad. Once there, they were to forage for themselves.”

“Can you be sure they are telling the truth?” Bekka seemed suspicious at how easily Sargon had obtained the information. “How will this second caravan be guarded?”

“Yes, I believe them,” Sargon answered. “I promised that they would live, if they spoke the truth. All the guards were questioned separately, and their stories agreed. As for the next supply group, it will be guarded by about the same number of soldiers. Without a warning from Zanbil, they will ride in as carelessly as these men did.”

“We will stay here and take the second caravan,” Bekka said. “Then we will burn everything that we do not need. Since no more men or supplies are coming to Zanbil, we will be free to raid the countryside.”

And that, Sargon knew, might lead to trouble. His father had asked the Alur Meriki to cut Modran’s supply line, and by capturing the one remaining convoy, they would have accomplished that. Which meant the warriors had completed the task Eskkar had asked of them, as well as fulfilled their oath.

“If your fighters could stay a few days after that, Chief Bekka,” Sargon said, “you might be able to attack any Elamites trying to leave the Pass.”

“Eskkar said that once Modran’s forces turned aside, Akkad would be safe. I will not put our warriors against the thousands of men Modran will have, even in defeat, without good purpose.”

Sargon nodded. Bekka spoke the truth, and the Sarum of the Alur Meriki had done all that Eskkar had requested. Sargon forced a smile to his face. Bekka’s decision was not carved in stone. Circumstances could yet change Chief Bekka’s mind.

A little after midday, Sargon rode the mile and a half from Zanbil to the eastern mouth of the Dellen Pass. Garal and some of the others had gone there earlier. Sargon knew they were hoping to catch more messengers coming from Modran.

To Sargon’s surprise, a large group of Ur Nammu warriors were there, led by Chinua and Fashod. Jennat, another of Sargon’s companions, stood beside Chinua. Den’rack, a new clan chief of the Alur Meriki, was also there. Den’rack had a handful of his own warriors with him.

Sargon hadn’t seen much of his friends in the last few days, as they had been tasked with riding patrol. After an exchange of greetings, he learned that no new messengers from Modran had made the journey. Sargon hadn’t expected any more Elamites to come through so soon on the heels of the others, who arrived only this morning.

Sargon saw Garal sitting on a large boulder by himself, staring up into the Pass. Sargon left the others and strode over to sit beside his companion.

“So, what do you see, Garal?”

“I see nothing, Sargon.”

“What did you expect to find here? A horde of Elamites running for their lives?”

Garal faced his friend, and for once Garal’s cheerful countenance had disappeared. “I expected to see glory. I expected to fight a great battle, to prove to Chinua and Subutai that I am worthy to one day become a leader of our people. Instead, there will be no battles, no fighting. Bekka already has his bags of loot, and he will raid the countryside on his return to the western lands, gathering even more. Even Subutai thinks the same, that our task here is completed.”

“Well, what else is there?” Sargon felt more than a little surprise at his friend’s words. “Don’t forget, General Jedidia’s force may soon be upon us.”

“I know. But I also know that I have almost twenty seasons. Long before that age, Chinua had fought in his great Battle of Isin against the Sumerians. He proved his worth to everyone, on that field of battle. What can I say that I have done on this campaign?”

“You’ve done your duty, and no warrior can do more. My father will. .”

“Your father followed Chinua into the fight at Isin. Now it is time for me to lead the way into battle.” Garal turned his face away, and once again stared up into the Pass.

“What battle? There is no. .” Sargon saw the glint in Garal’s eyes. “You mean you want to ride into the Pass? To do what? Attack Modran’s army?”

Garal nodded. “Not attack his soldiers, but what will Modran have at the rear of his forces? Nothing but porters and laborers, even slaves brought along to work on the siege of Akkad. And horses. There will be thousands of horses at the rear.”

“Their riders will be there, too, guarding them.”

“Did you not say that cavalry would be useless in the Pass?” Garal stood and faced his friend. “Modran will need all his men, so he will dismount his fighters and send them to the front. A small force of brave men could raid Modran’s rear guard, and capture hundreds of horses. We could drive them all the way back here, before we turn north and ride home.”

Sargon opened his mouth, then closed it again. Garal had that determined look on his face that Sargon knew all too well. His friend meant to do it, to ride deep into the Pass, to try and accomplish some great deed to make his mark as a future leader of his people. A foolish idea, but Sargon had lived with the Ur Nammu long enough to understand the things that mattered to a warrior.

Nevertheless, the more Sargon thought about it, the more impressed he grew with Garal’s wild plan. A large number of horses would almost certainly be at the rear, and lightly guarded. Even a small raid on Modran’s army might convince him he had enemies at his back as well as to the front. It might even relieve some pressure on Eskkar and his men.

Even if Eskkar were defeated, the loss of so many valuable horses might seriously weaken Modran’s ability to continue his march and lay siege to Akkad.

The more Sargon thought about the idea, the more appealing it sounded. It would certainly put fear into the hearts of the Elamites. Not to mention that such a plan had never even been considered by his father, or Subutai, or Bekka, for that matter.

Garal wanted to prove himself before his fellow warriors. Sargon, too, had something to prove. A successful attack, unplanned by his father, would finally take Sargon out of the shadow of the all powerful and cunning King of Akkad.

Jennat and Den’rack wandered over. Since the day Sargon had risked his life entering the Alur Meriki camp to plead for Chief Bekka’s help in fighting the Carchemishi, Den’rack had stood by Sargon’s side. In the last two years, the two had become friends as well.

“Garal, what do you see that makes you look so serious?” Den’rack’s casual words broke the lengthening silence. “Are the Elamites coming?” But his lighthearted tone disappeared when Garal met his gaze.

“I want to ride against the Elamite rear.” Garal’s flat voice conveyed his serious intent. “I’ve grown weary of slaughtering helpless guards and pack handlers. It’s time I fought against a real enemy. I think we could strike a heavy blow against the Elamites, and capture many horses.”

Den’rack turned to Sargon. “Is he serious? To take men that deep into the Pass?”

“Yes, he’s serious. So am I. All I’ve done so far on this campaign is question prisoners. I think we could take the war to Lord Modran, and help my father at the same time.”

Before Den’rack could reply, Jennat stepped forward to stand beside Sargon. “I’ll ride with you. I haven’t been wounded in more than two years. It’s time I added another scar to my body.”

Everyone laughed. Jennat, too, had ridden with Sargon into the midst of the Alur Meriki. None of the Ur Nammu had expected to survive that encounter with their hereditary enemies.

Sargon straightened up. “Come. We need to speak with Chief Bekka and Subutai.”

It didn’t take long for Garal’s bold plan to spread throughout the camp. He and Sargon first presented the idea to Chinua, then Subutai, who shook his head and insisted on calling a war council of all the chiefs. Soon Chiefs Bekka, Suijan, Den’rack, and Fashod joined Chinua and Subutai. When Bekka, Sarum of the Alur Meriki and leader of the expedition, took his place, the boisterous discussion that had continued since Garal’s arrival ceased.

Bekka took in the large crowd that stood behind the circle of leaders. Nearly every warrior in Zanbil wanted to hear what was said. “So, Garal of the Ur Nammu, you want to ride at least seventy miles into the Pass, over rough country, and attack the rear guard of Modran’s army of thirty thousand? Is that what you’re proposing?”

“Yes, Chief Bekka.” Garal explained what he and Sargon had discussed. Then he enumerated the value of the raid to King Eskkar, and the benefit to their clans if they captured a large number of horses.

Bekka grunted. “What do you say, Subutai?”

“Any force that rides that far into the Pass is likely never to emerge. Even a wounded snake can lash out at its attacker. To accomplish what Garal proposes, it would take at least a hundred warriors, probably more. The Ur Nammu cannot risk so many men for a raid that is likely to accomplish little.”

Chief Suijan, second in command, spoke next. “Young warriors always want to ride to war, to fight for honor and glory. But this is foolish, and even if you succeed in capturing a few horses, by the time you return here, you may well have five thousand mounted dirt eaters close behind you.”

Fashod offered a different, more compelling, objection. “If Eskkar’s Engineer blocked the Jkarian Pass, then we will soon be facing General Jedidia. Even if he decides to return to Sushan, he must come through this place. We may need every warrior to ride against Jedidia.”

Chief Unegen, Chief Chinua, and the other leaders said much the same thing. Too much risk for too little reward.

When the chiefs finished, Garal spoke. “It is true that a raid such as this is dangerous, and with great risk. But I would still like to strike at Modran’s army. If a hundred men cannot be spared, perhaps a handful can yet accomplish much. There may be enough warriors who would be willing to ride beside me.”

Den’rack, who had said nothing, now lifted his hand to draw Bekka’s attention. “Garal is my friend, but I do not believe a few riders can inflict enough damage. Nor can the Ur Nammu risk one hundred horsemen. But perhaps fifty warriors each from the Alur Meriki and the Ur Nammu could ride together. I am certain that at least that many of our warriors would offer to join with me. We would be willing to ride with Garal and Sargon.”

The mention of Sargon’s name reminded Bekka that he had forgotten to ask Eskkar’s son for his reasons for wanting to go. “What does Sargon say?”

“Chief Bekka, I believe we should take one hundred men into the Pass. We have plenty of horses now, enough for two mounts for every rider that goes. But my main reason to want to go is that it may help my father. If the Akkadian line is broken, and the battle lost, Akkad will fall. But perhaps even our sting might turn Lord Modran aside, or just give King Eskkar more time to defend his position. If I fail to do everything in my power to help Akkad’s soldiers, how can I ever face them with honor? And we will not ride merely to capture horses. Remember what your stampede did to the Carchemishi. It broke their ranks and destroyed their will to fight. We might accomplish as much.”

More than two years ago, Bekka had led his Alur Meriki warriors against the Carchemishi invaders who were about to destroy the Ur Nammu.

“I stand with Sargon,” Den’rack said. “If you approve, Sarum, I will find fifty warriors willing to ride with me.”

“Perhaps I was hasty,” Chinua said. “It may be that such a raid is important enough to venture, even weighed against the risk. If Subutai permits, I, too, will ask for fifty volunteers from the Ur Nammu, to ride beside Den’rack and the Alur Meriki.”

Bekka furrowed his brow. He did not want to lose even fifty men. But Sargon had spoken the truth. A small effort might be enough to halt or delay Modran’s advance, and perhaps save the army of Akkad. That meant Bekka and the clans might yet be responsible for Eskkar’s success.

While Bekka had grown friendly enough with the King of Akkad over the last few years, Eskkar’s defeat of the Alur Meriki at the Battle of the Stream still rankled many of Bekka’s warriors.

As Sarum of the Alur Meriki, Bekka had more than fulfilled Eskkar’s demand for men, and he had already broken the Elamite supply line. If he did nothing more, honor would still be satisfied. Still, while a small part of Bekka’s deepest and darkest thoughts wanted Eskkar to be destroyed, Akkad’s King was, after all, an Alur Meriki warrior, one who had offered the hand of friendship to his old clan.

However Eskkar’s defeat would see the Land Between the Rivers turned into another Elamite province. Sooner or later that would deny the northern regions to both the Alur Meriki and the Ur Nammu. With Eskkar and Akkad conquered, the Elamites would turn their vast army against the Alur Meriki, especially after this raid into their own territory. Even the possible loss of fifty warriors meant nothing compared against that.

Bekka lifted his gaze. The long silence had remained unbroken, and every clan chief could guess the conflict that had just taken place within Bekka’s heart. Now every man waited for his decision.

“Den’rack, I will allow you to take fifty warriors with you. All must be volunteers, but I’m sure there are enough young warriors eager to make a name for themselves. If Chief Subutai is willing to risk another fifty men, then the raid against Modran can proceed.”

“Once long ago,” Subutai said, “Eskkar risked his life to help the Ur Nammu. Now I must make the same choice, to help him at his time of great need. Garal may ask for fifty volunteers.”

“Fifty warriors requires a chief to lead them,” Chinua said. “I volunteer to go as well.”

“No. You are needed here.” Subutai’s voice conveyed the force of his decision. “Garal can lead our men. This is his idea, and I see he burns for the chance to fight.”

“I will place our men under Chief Den’rack’s command,” Garal said. “He will lead us with honor.”

“No, that will not be allowed,” Chief Bekka said. “If anything goes wrong, if many Ur Nammu warriors are killed, I want no blame to fall upon Den’rack and the Alur Meriki.”

“I agree with Chief Bekka,” Subutai said. “On so small a raid, the Ur Nammu and Alur Meriki must have a single leader. Sargon should lead the raid, with Den’rack and Garal as his war chieftains. That way, Sargon will bear the responsibility for leading the warriors.”

“That is wise,” Den’rack said. “I accept Sargon to lead the raid. He will command us honorably.”

“I, too, agree,” Chinua said. “His father fights for his life. Sargon will do what must be done.”

“Sargon,” Bekka said, “do you accept command of these warriors? The odds you will face will be daunting.”

Every eye went to Sargon. Surprise still showed on his face at being asked to lead the warriors, a possibility he had never dreamed of. The situation had spun out of control with a few words. Even so, Sargon didn’t hesitate. He’d never considered such a role, but he recovered fast enough.

“I accept command of these brave warriors. I will pray to the gods that I lead them with honor and to victory.”

Bekka and Subutai exchanged glances. The decision was made. If the King’s son died on a foolhardy raid, his blood would not be on their hands.

Sargon had just received his first command.