Dawn of Empire

26

Esk kar awoke to the smell and feel of Trella’s hair on his cheek and the brush of her lips against his. For a moment he just lay there, soothed by her touch as he awoke. Then he glanced at the window. The full darkness of evening covered the sky. He sat up in the bed, words of anger coming to his lips.

“Be easy, husband, there’s plenty of time. Gatus told me to make sure you got some rest before you go.” Trella lowered her voice. “If you still insist you must go.”

They’d argued about that most of the morning. Gatus and Trella re-monstrated against Esk kar’s going. No one wanted him dead out there in the countryside, putting the village into panic.

Esk kar insisted, determined to lead the raid. In truth, he didn’t trust anyone else. Sisuthros and Bantor were wounded, and Gatus couldn’t move fast enough at his age. That left only Jalen, and his blood flowed too hot for such a mission. Esk kar spoke the language, which might be critical.

In the end everyone had finally given way.

That decided, he and his commanders spent the rest of the day planning the details. They selected men to raid the horses, choosing eight men for the task, all experienced liverymen who knew how to handle horses and, more important, how to stampede them. Jalen would lead them, a simple raid well suited to his abilities. Esk kar reviewed the preparations, then turned the details over to Jalen.

Finding volunteers for the fire carts took less time. When the soldiers learned Esk kar would lead that party, dozens offered to go, despite the risk. For this he needed only levelheaded men who could follow orders and strong enough to carry what they’d need. He and Gatus selected six men, talking with them individually and making sure each had the right temperament and would follow orders.

Esk kar finally took some rest just before sundown, at Trella’s and Gatus’s insistence. By then even Esk kar felt tired enough that he agreed to rest for an hour.

Instead Trella let him sleep more than three hours. By the time he’d dressed and eaten, only two hours remained before midnight, the time set for both parties to depart. Actually there would be three parties. The third consisted of a small team of archers, all good hunters and trackers, men who could move quietly through the darkness. They’d slip out first and eliminate any enemy sentries in their path.

Before Esk kar left the house Trella pressed herself against him with such force that he nearly lost his balance. Her words breathed against his cheek. “Don’t take any foolish chances. Come back to me, Esk kar.”

At the river gate Esk kar assembled his men, wondering what the next few hours would bring. The guards had removed most of the braces that secured the gate and now they eased open the heavy frame, its hinges moistened earlier with oil and water to muffle any sound.

Twenty — six men slipped out in single file and moved as silently as possible across the ditch. As soon as the last man passed the gate, the sentries closed it behind them.

Across the ditch, the two raiding parties stopped and knelt in the darkness, while they waited for the archers to remove the enemy sentries. Led by a hunter named Myandro, they disappeared into darkness, their bows wrapped in cloth to lessen any noise. All had hunted wild game in the hills and knew how to move with care.

Nearly an hour passed before Myandro returned, slipping up to Eskkar’s side so quietly that he jumped in surprise.

“Captain, the sentries are dead,” Myandro whispered. “There were only three as far as the first line of hills. You’ll have a few hours before any come to relieve them. But go quickly. I’ll send Jalen out as soon as you are gone.”

Esk kar grasped the man’s shoulder. “Good work, Myandro.” Jalen and his men had a much shorter distance to travel and would move faster, since they carried no heavy loads. Esk kar turned to Grond, his second in command for this mission and kept his voice low. “The way is clear. Come.”

Esk kar waited while Grond passed the word down the line, making sure every man understood the order. Then Esk kar stood up slowly, letting any stiffness in his muscles stretch their way loose. He carefully picked up the two clay pots, bound in thick cloth for protection and linked by a rope that he slung around his neck, allowing him to carry a pot under each arm.

His sword already hung down his back, leaving nothing that might bang against a pot and make a sound, or worse, break the container.

The burden was heavy and he heard the muffled breathing of the men as they shouldered their loads. Only Grond seemed unaffected by the weight.

Myandro took the lead. In single file Esk kar and his men followed, traversing the north side of the village, stepping with care to make sure they didn’t trip over some obstacle, fall into the ditch, or splash into a pool of swamp water. That caution slowed them down, and it took some time before they passed the point where the wall turned to face the east.

Grateful to be away from the ditch and the flooded lands, they traveled now in the open, exposed to any close scrutiny. Gradually they turned south and began the long walk across the face of the main wall, moving farther away from Orak with each step. At first Myandro stayed with them, leading them at a steady pace. Then he vanished into the darkness ahead, to make sure the way remained clear.

At last they reached the first of the low hills, nearly opposite the main gate but more than a mile away.

Myandro reappeared at Esk kar’s side, placing his hand on his captain’s chest to stop the column. Esk kar sank to his knees, grateful for the chance to remove the millstone from his neck, even for a moment. Between the weight of the pots and the coarse rope, the flesh already felt raw.

His men welcomed the respite. The need for complete silence and the effort to ensure that no misstep caused a stumble had stretched every muscle, and Esk kar felt the strain in his body. They waited as Myandro and two of his men slipped ahead through the darkness.

Looking up at the stars Esk kar guessed that not quite two hours had passed since they left Orak. It would’ve been shorter to leave by the main gate, but that meant more sentries to get past, as the Alur Meriki watched the main gate more closely.

Myandro reappeared, ghostlike, putting his face directly to Esk kar’s ear. “The barbarian troop is just over this hill and about a hundred paces away. Most are sleeping and they only posted a few guards. A sentry is there, supposedly watching the village, though he spends more time looking at the campfires. They suspect nothing. But they’re between us and the wagons, so we must wait here.”

Esk kar repeated the message to Grond, who would whisper it to each man. Esk kar turned back to Myandro. “Jalen should have attacked by now.

It grows late.”

Myandro checked the progress of the moon before answering. “We’d have heard something if he were seen or captured. I’ll go back on watch.

More can be seen and heard from the hilltop. Keep close against the side of the hill, and make sure nobody makes a sound.”

Again he vanished, leaving Esk kar envious of his ability to move so quietly. But the idea of the sentry made him nervous, and Esk kar moved down the line of men, whispering to each and making sure every man hugged the hillside as much as possible.

More time passed as the moon seemed to race across the sky. When the moment came they felt it in the ground before they heard the noise, the rumble of hundreds of pounding hooves. The horses over the hilltop heard it as well, and a few began to whinny nervously, the first sounds they’d made.

Esk kar pictured the raid in his mind. Jalen would have gotten his men into position and built a tiny fire. Each man would light the thick, oil — soaked bundle of rags already fastened to the ends of the ropes. Whirling the ropes overhead would create a big flaming circle that would frighten any horse, let alone a herd suddenly awakened to see eight circles of fire rushing toward them. The horses would bolt from the sight, and with luck, directly into the river if Jalen positioned his men properly.

Other noises came to Esk kar, horses screaming, the distant alarms of men, and above everything the thunder of hooves in the night. Behind the hill, men shouted and cursed, warriors suddenly jerked awake, fumbling for their swords, scrambling for their horses, damning the darkness and whatever unknown disaster had struck the herd. Each warrior probably had a mount or two in that band, and all would be keen to learn what had happened.

Myandro loomed up out of the darkness above them. “Down! And don’t look up!”

Esk kar and his men froze into the earth, hardly breathing, all of them pressing against the hill. He heard horses climbing the other side. At first Esk kar thought they’d been discovered, but realized that someone, likely the leader and a few others, had ascended the hill to see whether Orak showed any activity.

When the horses stopped moving, Esk kar glimpsed three or four horsemen, not forty paces above their heads and as many to their left, looking over the empty plain to the village walls. If any of them looked down toward the base of the hill…

But the riders searched toward the village, where nothing moved. At the base of the hill deep shadows covered the motionless men. Esk kar heard the horses snort and one of them neighed. The animals had probably picked up the scent of men beneath them. The warriors, however, ignored those small signs, certain the animals were spooked by the stampede.

At last the Alur Meriki leader shouted an order and the horses turned about and started back down the hillside. As they did so, the whole band burst into a gallop, riding off toward the north.

Esk kar remained rooted in place, waiting while Myandro climbed up the hill, looking for any guards left behind. If any remained, they’d have to be killed. Time again dragged by before Myandro called to them from above.

Instantly Esk kar and his men grabbed their pots and began climbing up the face of the hill, cursing silently the clumsy weights around their necks that unbalanced them and made them slip and stumble. At the crest they found Myandro and one of his men. Hugging the ground so no silhou-ette would show against the faint moonlight, Esk kar could see the main encampment about half a mile away. Only a few scattered fi res glowed in the darkness, but more were lit each moment as the camp roused itself to learn what had stampeded their horses.

“There, Captain,” Myandro gestured with his bow to the east. “See that small fire there? That’s where the carts are.” He pointed to a tiny fire about six hundred paces from where they stood. “Shall we go with you?”

Esk kar hesitated a moment, but realized a few more men wouldn’t help. “No, stay with the plan. Remain here and cover our retreat if you can. If not, save yourself.”

The man nodded, not bothering to tell Esk kar that Gatus had ordered him specifically not to return without the captain of the guard. “Then hurry, before they return and block the way. And there may be guards.”

Of course there would be guards, wide — awake ones at that, based on the sounds coming from the north. Moving as quietly as possible, Esk kar’s men descended the back side of the hill, still moving south, so they could approach the outpost from the rear, hoping to find the guards focused on the confusion in the north. They hadn’t far to travel now and they moved at a faster pace, helped by their brief rest.

When he reached his position, Esk kar gave the order to halt. He dropped to one knee to let his burden slip carefully to the ground, then pulled the rope over his head. Another movement freed the sword strapped to his back and he buckled it around his waist. He carried no other weapon.

Esk kar chose two men to come with him. One carried a short bow and six arrows, the standard weapon of the barbarians, an item now in plentiful supply, taken from dead warriors. The other man carried two knives.

The three men walked openly toward the campfire. The first cart loomed in his path and Esk kar stumbled over the tongue hidden in the darkness at his feet. Up ahead, just past the small fire, he spotted two men facing north, away from him. Esk kar turned to the man with the bow. “Stay here in case there are more guards,” he whispered. “We’ll take care of those two. Come, Tellar,” he ordered the other man, “and give me one of those knives.”

Tellar could handle a knife better than most, one of the reasons for bringing him. He handed Esk kar one of his daggers and Esk kar held it concealed against his arm.

He walked straight toward the guards, making no effort to keep quiet.

Nevertheless they closed within thirty paces and hadn’t been noticed, so Esk kar pretended to slip and swore loudly. The guards turned at the sound, hands on their swords as they saw two men weaving toward them.

“Who are you?” the smaller of the two snapped out.

“Rest easy, friend,” Esk kar replied in the barbarian language, slurring his words as if intoxicated. He kept walking slowly forward, grateful to the Ur Nammu for all the recent language practice. “We were drinking out in the plain when we heard the noise. What’s going on?” He let his words tail off and moved sideways a little, as if he were fi nding it diffi cult to walk a straight line.

The taller guard spoke up, apparently eager to talk. “Something must have stampeded the horses. Maybe the dirt — eaters.”

“No! How could they do that?” Esk kar stopped a few steps from the men and turned to his companion. “Did you hear that? Someone’s after our horses.”

When he turned back, the knife flashed in his hand and he leapt at the smaller, more alert guard, shoving his dagger into the man’s stomach before he could clear his sword. At the same instant, Tellar fl ung himself on the other and dragged him down to the ground, where they wrestled a moment before Tellar arose, bloody knife in one hand and the man’s sword in the other.

Esk kar wasted no time with the bodies. He climbed up the nearest cart to look around but saw nothing, no more guards, not even horses, just more torches and fires being lit in the main encampment. “Tellar, get Grond and the men. We don’t have much time.”

Grond appeared out of the darkness almost instantly, carrying Eskkar’s burden as well as his own without apparent effort. Esk kar found time to grin at the man’s strength.

“Push as many carts together as you can. Tellar, unseal the jars.” The wrapped pots contained the heavy black oil that burned for hours. The contents of one jar should be enough to turn any two carts into a pyre of flame within moments. Tellar’s sharp knives easily cut through the ropes and leather sealing the pots.

Esk kar left his men to their task as he walked over to inspect a different pile of wood. Long planks had been nailed together, perhaps to form shields for fi ve or ten men at a time. The barbarians had planned for their fire attack well. They could use these great shields to protect them from arrows and stones as they piled the wood and carts against Orak’s gate.

Esk kar didn’t know whether he could do anything about them, as it would take at least four men to lift one and they had no tools to break them apart. Perhaps they could drag some of them against the burning carts.

Two carts squealed loudly when the men pushed them together. Within moments six carts were practically touching. Already two men had climbed atop them and started pouring oil over the contents.

The men moved fast, carrying the oil, pouring it, then moving to the next cart. In moments they’d emptied the pots. The guards’ campfire came in handy now, as they tossed burning brands onto the carts. The oil — soaked wood caught fire at once and the flames began to grow.

“Grond! Help me with these shields.” Men rushed over and four of them picked up the first shield and leaned it up against the nearest cart, before running back for another. By now at least twenty — eight fires had been set, emptying the fourteen jars they’d carried with such care. The dark of night erupted into a wall of flames.

Esk kar and Grond ignored the waves of heat against their fl esh. They carried the huge shields to their destruction, placing them against whatever burning cart was closest. Ten… twenty… Esk kar lost count of how many they’d dragged to the fires, though his arms ached from the effort.

“Captain! They’ve seen the fires. They’re coming,” Tellar shouted to be heard over the crackling flames. “We have to go now!”

The fire roar grew deafening, as more dry wood burst into hot flames that shot up into the night sky. Esk kar glanced at Grond, who nodded.

“Help me with this last shield, Grond.” The other men joined them to heave one of the most massive shields into position.

“Get moving,” Esk kar ordered, gasping for breath against the heat of the fire, his men already melting into the darkness, eager to return to safety.

Warriors near the main camp had spotted the flames. Men came on the run but so far none on horseback. Any warrior with a horse nearby would have headed straight for the river, anxious to recover his mounts.

Esk kar started back toward the village when three warriors burst into the firelight and charged at him. He started to run, saw they’d quickly overtake him, and turned, pulling his sword from its sheath as they fl ung themselves at him.

Thutmose — sin woke with a start, feeling the ground trembling beneath him. For a moment he thought it might be an earthshaker, but he recognized the sound of many horses on the move. The two wives he’d chosen for that night called out in fear, but he ignored their questions. Men shouted outside his tent, and by the time the first guard pushed open the tent flap, Thutmose — sin had arisen and buckled his sword around him.

“Sarrum,” the breathless warrior gasped out, “the horses have stampeded. They all…”

“What caused it? Do you know?” Anything might set horses moving, a strange scent, a strong breeze, even a clumsy nightrider.

“No, Sarrum. Not yet…”

“Find out,” he ordered. Stepping outside his tent, Thutmose — sin looked up at the stars. Still a few hours before sunrise. All the fires had burned out, except for a few scattered watch fires that still glowed on the outskirts of the camp.

Around him, warriors milled about in confusion. Everyone had horses in the herd. Those who’d kept mounts nearby soon galloped off toward the river. A young warrior approached, leading Thutmose — sin’s horse.

He swung up onto the animal, then rode off toward a nearby hilltop, his guards scrambling along on foot behind him. When he reached the small rise, he looked first toward the village. Everything there seemed quiet, so he turned his attention to the river. He couldn’t see the horses, but a few torches danced about, all moving toward the water’s edge.

A rider galloped up, calling out Thutmose — sin’s name. In a moment, the horseman had raced his horse up the hilltop.

“Sarrum, the dirt — eaters stampeded the horses.” The man had to pause for a moment. “They waved fire at them, drove many into the Tigris.”

“Did you capture them?”

“No, not yet, Sarrum. The horses blocked the way, but the patrol moved to cut them off, so they’re trapped along the riverbank.”

Thutmose — sin again looked toward the village. Still no sign of activity.

He shifted his gaze toward the south, but saw nothing, just the watch fires.

Reassured, he decided to ride toward the commotion. Then he noticed the fires farthest away, where the carts and wood for the assault had been gathered. The watch fi res there burned brighter.. too bright for a campfire, he realized. And there should only be one campfire, not… even as he stared, he saw new fires come into existence, their fl ickering fl ames rising ever higher.

“Get men back from the river. Send them to where we’re holding the carts. The dirt — eaters are raiding the carts. Bring men. Cut them off.”

He looked about him. Only a dozen or so of his guards remained; the rest had gone to the river to see to their horses. “Follow me. Hurry, before they burn everything.”

They broke into a run down the hillside. He followed more slowly, letting the horse pick its way down the slope. By the time he reached the bottom, his men had outdistanced him, stringing out in a ragged line and shouting for more men to join them. Thutmose — sin put the horse to a canter, as fast a pace as he could coax from the animal in the darkness.

He soon began to pass his men. Fire from the burning wagons now illuminated the night, and he saw that more than a dozen wagons were covered in flames.

He urged the horse faster. For a moment the animal responded. Then it shied away from the approaching flames, stiffened its legs, slid to a halt, and refused to move. Swearing at the frightened beast, Thutmose — sin leapt down and ran after his men. Darker shadows moved before the flames, and he could see men shoving wood against the burning wagons.

“Stop them,” he shouted, drawing his sword. The sound of swords clashing told him men fought just ahead of him. By now the fires had gown so bright he could see the dirt — eaters working frantically, trying to burn the carts and wood his warriors had so laboriously collected.

One of his men cried out, then stumbled and fell, clutching at the arrow in his arm. Damn these accursed village archers. Just ahead of him he saw another of his men cut down, this time by a tall warrior with a long sword. Ignoring an arrow that hissed by his head, Thutmose — sin raised his sword and rushed at the warrior.

Esk kar met the first warrior with a savage sweep of his arm, knocking the man’s blade aside and thrusting into his attacker’s chest before he could recover. The second warrior, little more than a boy, swung his blade at Esk kar’s head, expecting to catch him before he could free his sword from the first man’s body. But Esk kar ducked and shoved his shoulder into the youth, his sword coming free at the movement. Before the warrior could strike again, Esk kar swung the sword around with all the force he could muster. The parry, weak and off balance, did little more than slow Esk kar’s blade as it slashed into the base of the young man’s neck.

The third warrior reached Esk kar with a vicious overhand stroke, and Esk kar knew from the first contact he faced no gangling youth, but a warrior in his prime, with a powerful arm of his own. Esk kar parried a second blow, and a third, then a fourth, but he had to give ground with each stroke.

The warrior kept pressing forward and Esk kar couldn’t mount a counterstroke as the vicious blows clanged against his weapon, pushing him back into the firelight, toward the heat of the flames.

Esk kar saw an opening and thrust at the man, the stroke stopping his adversary’s advance and giving Esk kar a chance to set his feet. Wielding the great sword, he lunged and slashed at his opponent with half a dozen strokes, before cutting deep into the man’s sword arm. The wounded man staggered back with a curse, his sword slipping from his grasp. Eskkar swung his sword up for the killing blow, but another half — dozen Alur Meriki arrived, shouting their war cries, and he turned to face them. Before they could overwhelm Esk kar, Tellar, Grond, and two others reached their captain’s side, forming a rough line to Esk kar’s left.

Esk kar barely had time to catch his breath before the first of these new warriors rushed in, using his momentum to take a powerful cut at Esk kar’s head. He deflected the blow, but felt the shock up his arm. The impact slowed him down as the warrior’s momentum carried him into Eskkar’s chest, the two of them falling to the earth. Esk kar got his arm under the man’s neck and heaved him away, then scrambled to his feet. Fighting raged all around, but for the moment, no new Alur Meriki appeared. The warrior Esk kar had flung aside rolled twice and somehow regained his feet, faster than Esk kar thought possible, and again the sword came at Eskkar’s head, shifted at the last moment and aimed at his shoulder. Esk kar blocked the blow and countered with a thrust that forced his opponent to twist his body to the side.

The movement swung the necklace the man wore, and the firelight glowed against the polished copper medallion, the medallion that proclaimed its bearer the Alur Meriki’s sarrum.

“Thutmose — sin!” Esk kar spat the words at the ruler of the clans.

Then he had no time or breath for anything else. The two leaders stood toe to toe, neither man willing to back off, too close to effectively use the long swords, but each man making up for the lack of room by cutting and thrusting. Esk kar’s anger flared up. This man’s father had killed his family.

Bloodlust overcame him, and the sword slashed viciously at Thutmose — sin’s neck.

But the Alur Meriki ruler had honed his expertise since his youth, with muscles hardened by hours on horseback, and he blocked every stroke with skill that bespoke of years of practice. Stroke fell upon stroke, and Esk kar’s opponent moved effortlessly. Esk kar’s rage began to fade as he felt his arm growing weaker. Forcing himself to ignore the tiredness in his arm, he lunged at his opponent.

The sarrum of the Alur Meriki pivoted as he brushed the point aside, and countered with a stroke so fierce it drove Esk kar back two steps. The blows kept hammering at him, giving him no time to counter. Esk kar’s arm began to tremble and he knew his opponent sensed it as well. The man increased his efforts, his mix of thrusts and cuts coming faster and faster, never allowing Esk kar time to recover.

Esk kar felt fear rising up. Any moment now and a stroke would catch him off guard. The heat raged at his back, all — enveloping now. He retreated another step, but a wagon wheel burned hot against his shoulder and he knew he’d run out of room. Already Esk kar had to use both hands to parry the endless blows that arrived with the force of a woodsman plying his axe.

Grunting with confidence now, Thutmose — sin swung his blade at Eskkar’s head but at the last moment aimed at Esk kar’s shoulder. Esk kar’s counter nearly came too late. He barely managed to get his sword in front of his chest, its tip bumping against the burning wagon. The two blades met with a clang and a shower of sparks, and then the unthinkable happened.

Thutmose

— sin’s sword shattered against Esk kar’s new blade. The weapon’s failure caught the warrior by surprise for a single instant. Esk kar pushed forward, ramming his hilt into Thutmose — sin’s head, knocking him backward and off balance. Thutmose — sin’s heel caught on a wood scrap, and he fell flat on his back, stunned, his sword dropping from his hand.

Gasping, and with the last of his strength, Esk kar lowered his sword’s point and lurched toward his blood enemy, ready to thrust the blade savagely into the fallen man’s chest.

Before he could avenge his family, an explosion blew Esk kar to the ground, a wave of searing heat passing over him. The wagon behind him, pushed into the flames only moments earlier by Esk kar and Grond, had contained more than just wood for shields. Unnoticed, half a dozen jars of oil rested beneath the wood, and the fire set by Esk kar’s men had finally reached them. The clay containing the oil had cracked from the heat, adding a flood of fresh oil to the roaring inferno that turned the cart into something beyond his comprehension.

A blast of fire shot up into the night, as burning pieces of the cart flew in every direction. All fighting stopped in an instant, the men knocked to their knees or flat on the ground, forgetting their enemy to look in awe at the writhing flames climbing into the dark night sky. No one had ever seen or heard anything like it before.

Stunned by the blast, Esk kar felt Grond helping him to his feet. Eskkar, mouth sagging, still clutched his sword. A dozen paces away, he saw Thutmose — sin being dragged to safety in the opposite direction.

The flames from the oil cart had collapsed from their height, but the other fires raged on, merging and growing ever hotter, with the roar of the combustion increasing until Esk kars thought his ears would burst.

Tellar, his sword gone and blood dripping from one arm, flung his good arm around Esk kar’s waist. With Grond carrying most of the burden, they stumbled away from the firestorm.

Another Alur Meriki appeared out of the darkness and raced at him, his sword high. Esk kar, still dazed and unable to react, saw Grond raise his weapon, but suddenly the man tripped and fell, nearly at Esk kar’s feet. An arrow protruded from the man’s chest. Esk kar caught a glimpse of Myandro notching another arrow at the far edge of the fire. Esk kar heard without comprehending the clash of other swords at the edge of the blaze. His back felt scorched. Grond shouted something, his blade reflecting fire and blood from the flames, as the bodyguard pulled Esk kar into a run.

At the same time two more of Myandro’s archers arrived, loosed their shafts, then fell back with the rest of Orak’s men, rushing into the darkness and leaving behind the angry shouts of the warriors.

Esk kar’s head began to clear as he lurched along. The cooler air away from the conflagration helped restore his strength. He shoved Tellar away as the weakness in his legs lessened, but Grond’s grip stayed firm on his left arm. Esk kar staggered along, trying to lengthen his steps.

They ran for their lives, Grond pulling Esk kar along until his captain hit his stride. Moving as fast as they could over the uneven ground, they had no breath for words. As they reached the top of the hill, Esk kar pulled himself loose and stopped. He took a quick glance behind him.

A fiery mass lit up the sky. Shouts from angry warriors mixed with the roar of flames that illuminated dozens of Alur Meriki who had reached the burning carts. Some tried to pull wagons and wood away from the inferno, while others searched for the raiding party.

Grond jerked hard on his captain’s arm and Esk kar turned back to the darkness. Orak remained more than a mile away. They’d covered barely half the distance when the fearful sound of hoofbeats gave their legs a fresh burst of energy. The terrifying vision of what happened to men on foot, caught from behind by mounted riders, flashed into Esk kar’s mind.

They raced on, Grond and Esk kar slipping farther behind the others.

Esk kar’s heart pounded in his chest and his legs trembled with exhaustion. His breathing came raggedly. Two nights with little sleep and the hard fight took their toll. Grond moved behind him now, his hand on his captain’s back, urging him along.

Orak’s walls, outlined against the moonlight, were growing in size and the ditch couldn’t be more than two hundred paces ahead when Esk kar saw a line of men rising up in the darkness. He slowed, thinking the barbarians had gotten in front of them. Then he heard the welcome voice of Gatus calling to them. Esk kar lowered his head and kept running, ignoring the piercing pain in his chest at every breath.

They reached the line of soldiers, passing between men who stood with bows drawn to the ear. The moment they passed out of the line of fire, Gatus shouted. “Loose!”

Twenty arrows whistled into the night.

Esk kar stumbled and nearly fell, but Grond, still at his side, caught his arm. The big man had remained behind him the whole time, protecting his back, when Grond could easily have outrun him. Now he resumed his grip on Esk kar’s arm and pulled his captain along. Behind them, the archers sent two more flights of arrows into the approaching horsemen before they, too, turned and fled for the safety of Orak’s walls. The rescuers soon caught up with Esk kar’s weary party. All reached the ditch together, jumping down into the mud, the loud slap of feet revealing their position.

A loud voice from the tower reminded the archers to shoot only at men on horseback. The ditch became a horror in the dark, and Esk kar heard arrows whistling overhead. Men fell facedown in the muck, cursing, scrambling up only to pitch forward again as the treacherous footing and darkness slowed them down to little more than a crawl.

Finally reaching the base of the wall, Esk kar leaned for a moment against it, unable to see anything as the structure blocked out the feeble moonlight.

Next to him Grond swept his hands along the rough surface, found a rope, and wrapped it twice around his captain. Another instant to knot it, and Grond shouted to those on the rampart above.

Esk kar ascended as if by magic, his sword shoved tightly under his arm, until hands seized his shoulders and pulled him into the safety of Orak. Moments later Grond arrived, pulling himself up as soon as he saw his captain reach the top. Esk kar lay on the parapet, trying to catch his breath.

Arrows whistled overhead or plinked against the wall. At least some of the barbarians had pursued them to the ditch. Orak’s archers soon drove them back. The flames from the burning carts rose over the low hill and provided enough light, even at that distance, to outline anyone on horseback. By the time Esk kar pulled himself to his feet and looked over the wall, the last horsemen were riding back out of range, heading toward the pyre of flaming carts.

The sight of the fire rising over the hill amazed Esk kar. In his whole life, he’d never seen such a burning. Flames thrust their way high into the night as if to set the heavens afire. The enormous store of wood, dried by the fierce sun and fired by the black oil, produced a blaze impossible to put out or even approach. The barbarians would probably save some carts and shields, but at least half, maybe more, of their precious wood supply was being consumed.

The raid was worth it, Esk kar decided, then caught himself. Better to see how many men had died before he started gloating.

“A pretty sight, isn’t it, Captain?” Gatus’s words sounded calm enough.

Gatus stood at his side, mud — covered from head to foot. The comical sight made Esk kar grin-before he remembered to look at his own body.

Gatus had been the last man pulled back up the wall. Grond stood there, too, as muddy as the others, his teeth gleaming white in the moonlight. All the men from the raid crowded around Esk kar.

“It’s a sight I owe to Grond here. He practically dragged me back to Orak.”

“Captain was tired from fighting three warriors by himself.” Grond raised his voice so that all could hear. “He turned to attack them, so the men could get away. Killed them all, too.”

The terror of the fight flashed into Esk kar’s mind. He couldn’t stop a shudder from passing over him as he remembered Thutmose — sin, who’d driven him against the wagon wheel. Esk kar had faced danger often enough but never had the certainty of his death felt so close.

Shaking off the chilling thought, he heard the men telling of his deeds, bragging about how strong their captain was. If they only knew how fear had almost overpowered him. “How many men did we lose, Gatus? And what about those who went for the horses?”

Gatus looked sheepish for a moment. “By the gods, I’d forgotten about them.” He shouted for a body count, but no one knew anything. “I’ll go and find out, Captain.”

“No, stay here and keep watch until morning. I’ll go see what’s happened to Jalen.”

Esk kar pushed men out of the way until he could descend the steps.

Trella was waiting for him. She clutched him fiercely for a moment, but then he took her hand and they ran toward the rear of the village. Grond and the others followed. All wanted to know what happened to the men who had provided the diversion.

Anxious villagers crammed the streets, wandering about, wanting to know what had happened. Grond formed a wedge with a couple of men and simply pushed the crowd out of Esk kar’s way. It seemed to take forever before they reached the river gate.

The gate stood open. Archers stood ready, bows in hand, facing the opening, now brightly lit from a line of torches that stretched to the river’s edge and even into the dark waters. Men lined the walls on each side of the gate. Esk kar heard shouting, even a few cheers, coming through the gate’s opening.

They pushed their way through the men and crossed the ditch, Grond seizing a torch to light their way. As they reached the riverbank, a soaking — wet man staggered up to them and slipped to his knees, exhausted from his battle with the river. Another appeared, this one falling flat on the earth as he gasped for breath.

Esk kar pushed past both of them and stopped at the jetty. The flickering torches showed a line of men extending out into the Tigris, each clinging to the thick tow rope used to pull the ferry back and forth.

As Esk kar watched, they hauled more men from the river, gasping and spitting, until seven had been pulled in. He saw no sign of Jalen. Esk kar waited a few more moments, watching the men standing against the current to make sure they stayed alert and looked with care for anything coming down the river.

The diversion had worked exactly as Esk kar planned. Jalen’s men had driven the horses into the river, then waited until the last possible moment before they jumped in themselves, letting the current take them quickly around the curve of the bank and downstream to Orak. They should all have been carried to this spot. But they should have gotten here long ago, well before Esk kar and his men returned to safety. Something must have gone wrong.

Abruptly he turned his attention back to the first two men who’d reached shore. “Where’s Jalen? Why did you wait so long before returning?”

One man looked up blankly but the other shook his head, then took a deep breath before speaking. “Captain, the horses blocked our path to the river. They just raced back and forth along the river’s edge. We couldn’t get past… had to hide until the way was clear.”

The man struggled to his feet, and Esk kar extended his hand to lift him upright. “When the way was finally clear, the barbarians spotted us. They rushed us, and Jalen got wounded in the fighting. He slew one man, but he was bleeding badly when I saw him go into the water.”

A shout went up from the men in the river, and the words “Jalen’s dead” echoed over the water. The men began wading back to the shore, carrying a body.

Cursing under his breath, Esk kar went back and arrived as the men set the body onto the earth. In the wavering torchlight, Esk kar had to stare for a moment before he recognized Jalen, a broken root clutched tightly in his hand and a gash in his side where he’d been wounded.

“He must have been too hurt to fight the current, or maybe just got tangled in some vines.” Esk kar could guess what had happened. By the time Jalen pushed free of the vines, he didn’t have the strength to keep his head above water. Either that, or the loss of blood from the wound had finished him. Esk kar shook his head in frustration, a brave man they could ill afford to lose.

By now Jalen’s second in command had steadied enough to tell the story.

Following orders, he’d made certain all of the men went into the water, including Jalen, who was last to jump. He assured Esk kar that he’d counted them as they went into the river. Nevertheless, one other hadn’t made it and must have been swept unnoticed downstream, likely drowned by the currents, his unnoticed corpse mixed in with dead horses that had fl oated by.

By the time the man finished, everyone had climbed out of the river.

In a few moments they began moving back across the ditch. Last came the men carrying Jalen’s body.

Esk kar took Trella’s hand. Together they returned to the safety behind Orak’s walls. Sisuthros stood inside the gate, his face reflecting the pain he felt.

Esk kar put a hand on Sisuthros’s shoulder for a moment. “Get the whole story, then tell Gatus.” Esk kar felt Trella’s hand pushing at his arm, and realized he was gripping her hand so tightly that he’d hurt her. He loosened his grip, and they walked back home in silence.

At the well Trella helped him strip and she washed the mud from his body herself. Servants lifted water from the well and brought drying cloths and fresh clothing. Under the torchlight she bound up a nasty gash on his left arm, after making sure it had been washed clean. The hair had burned off his right arm, when the wagon exploded. On his back she found two burn marks and she washed those as well, but left them uncovered.

The servants withdrew, leaving only a single torch burning in the tiny garden. Trella and Esk kar sat together on the bench at the rear of the house. He drank his fill of fresh water, followed by a cup of heated wine that he drained almost as easily.

Trella examined his arm, checking his bandage to see if he still bled.

She waited until he was ready to speak.

“Jalen was unlucky,” he began, “unlucky to be wounded, unlucky in the river. He should be alive and I should be dead.” He pointed at the great sword leaning up against the tree, already wiped clean and oiled by the servants. “Your sword saved my life, Trella. I fought against Thutmose — sin.

He is a true swordsman and he had me beaten. I knew I was about to die.

I felt helpless before him, until his sword shattered on your blade and I knocked him down with the last of my strength. One more stroke and I’d have died out there. Even then, I’d have been killed or captured if Grond hadn’t practically carried me back to the village.”

He looked at her. “I’ve never been so certain of my death, not in all the fi ghts, in all the years. I felt fear, the same fear I’ve seen in others’ eyes… other men I have fought… killed.” He shook his head as if disbelieving his words, ashamed to admit his fear and weakness, even to her.

When she spoke, her voice was calm and matter — of — fact. “Then the sword has served both of us well. Since I can’t fight at your side, the sword must take my place, and so it must defend you. You know, husband, it’s true the gods favor and watch over you. They protected you even from the Alur Meriki leader.

No man can fight so many men without tiring, especially after a long walk carrying a heavy burden. But it’s even better that you admit your fear.”

Esk kar looked at her, puzzled. He’d never confessed fear to a woman in his life, nor had he ever heard of any warrior doing so. He wouldn’t have done it now, except he felt exhausted, and perhaps the hot wine had loosened his tongue.

“The gods grow angry when men become too presumptuous, too sure of their own strength and power,” she went on, her hand stroking his arm.

“Remember this time and this feeling when you’re tempted to think you are all — powerful. Then remember Jalen and his sacrifice.”

He sat in silence. Esk kar knew what she hadn’t said. She hadn’t reminded him who placed the sword in his hand, who guided him all these many months, whose strength supported him when he worried in the night.

“Tomorrow, we’ll give honor to Jalen. His funeral will be attended by all. We’ll give him praise for the success of the raid.” He put his arm around Trella and held her close, feeling her strength as she gripped him in return. “And you… you will remind me if I grow too proud, or if I ever forget the lesson of tonight.”

“You will not need to be reminded. You’re too wise to forget what you learn.”

He’d never considered himself wise, and wondered if she might be saying that simply to ease his mind.

She looked up at him, reading his thoughts. “You are a wise man, Eskkar, wise enough to know your own strengths, wise enough to learn from your mistakes, and even wiser to learn from the mistakes of others.” She pulled free and stood up. “Now come to bed, husband. You need to rest, and there will be much to talk about in the morning.”

Esk kar glanced up at the sky. Morning would soon be upon them.

“I wonder what happened to Thutmose — sin,” he said. “I struck him with the sword hilt, and he went down.” He told her about how the cart had burst into a mountain of fl ame and heat, about the strange noise that knocked them all off their feet. “His men dragged him away, away from the fires and away from us. He might even be dead. I wanted to kill him, to avenge my family. That would have been worth dying for. But he fought… he was too strong.”

“No more talk about dying, husband. And we’ll know soon enough about Thutmose — sin,” she answered. “But whether he lives or dies won’t change what the next few days will bring.”

“I suppose not.” He looked at her, recalling how he’d felt during their first days together, when he’d started to learn just how special she was.

Now she spoke just a few words, and the unimportant disappeared. She was right. The battle would go on, with or without Thutmose — sin.

He took her in his arms and held her tight for a moment, forgetting the pain in his arm and back, letting her strength wash over him. They walked together back into the house, ignoring the servants and soldiers who stared at them with respect and admiration. Falling across his bed, he had time for one more thought before sleep claimed him. Wisdom, he decided, was becoming less a matter of what you knew and more a matter of admitting how much you did not know.

Thutmose — sin regained consciousness in his tent, surrounded by his women. The first rays of dawn shone through the opening, telling him the night had passed. At first his eyes wouldn’t focus, but his wives helped him up to a sitting position. Touching his head, he flinched at the tenderness when his fingers, still clumsy, bumped against the swollen bruise just above his temple. His head hurt when he moved it, but he sat still for a moment, and the waves of pain began to lessen.

The fight came back to him. He remembered his sword breaking. In battle, anything could happen, and he’d seen enough swords shatter before, though never one of his, and never just as he’d readied the killing blow.

One more stroke… the weapon’s failure had unbalanced him, and the tall warrior managed to strike him with his weapon’s pommel. Thutmose — sin had twisted his head trying to avoid the blow, and the bronze ball had glanced along his skull, instead of hitting directly.

If it had, I might be dead.

His first wife, Chioti, lifted a water skin to his lips, and he drank and drank, letting the water spill down his chest. When he finally pushed it away, he looked at her. “What happened?”

“Your guards carried you back here a few hours ago. You were unconscious. They said the dirt — eaters burned the wagons. We saw a great burning.”

He shook his head, then regretted the movement. “Help me up, Chioti.”

Some of the wives murmured that he should rest, but Chioti knew his ways. She placed his arm over her shoulder and helped get him to his feet.

“Fetch Urgo,” she ordered, keeping an arm around her husband’s waist.

“Urgo wanted to know when you awoke.” Chioti moved in front of him and looked into his eyes. “Stay inside the tent until you’re sure you’re all right. You don’t want to stumble and fall.”

Or look weak in front of my men. Thutmose-sin smiled at her. “I will take care, Chioti.”

By the time Urgo arrived, Thutmose — sin felt strong enough to leave the tent. His guards looked at him. The relief on their faces mixed with fear; they’d failed in their duty to remain at his side, to protect him last night.

He looked at them coldly as they gathered around him; he would deal with their dereliction later. The morning sun had lifted well above the horizon. His strength grew with each breath of fresh air, though his head would likely hurt for days.

Urgo arrived first, carrying a bow in his hand. Rethnar, Altanar, and two other clan leaders were on his heels. They sat on the ground in a half — circle, facing Thutmose — sin.

“The dirt — eaters burned the fire wagons, Sarrum,” Urgo said without any preamble. “We lost about half the wood, and one wagonload of oil.

Fortunately, the other two carts carrying oil were spared.”

Thutmose — sin restrained himself from shaking his head in disgust.

“And the horses? The dirt — eaters that raided them?”

“The men got away, jumping into the river.” Urgo shrugged. “They may have drowned. We lost about thirty horses. The rest scattered all over the plain. The men are still rounding them up.”

“And those that burned the wagons?”

“We found two bodies, Sarrum.” He saw the question on his leader’s face. “We lost ten men. That included the two guards. The rest were killed in the fighting.” Urgo handed the bow to Thutmose — sin. “One of the dead carried this. The dirt — eaters sent their archers to raid us.”

“That was no bowman I fought,” Thutmose — sin said, examining the weapon with interest. They hadn’t recovered one before, and it took but a glance to recognize a well — made, powerful bow. “He recognized me, called out my name. He might have been from our clan.”

Urgo shrugged. “A renegade warrior… what does it matter? You may have wounded him. His men had to help him away.”

“And the wood? Do we have enough left?”

“I’ve already sent men out for more. We have plenty of oil, and we’ll have enough wood in a day or so.”

“He knew how to fight, Urgo.”

“The gods may be saving him for us to capture later, Thutmose — sin.”

“Or the gods may be sending us another message, Sarrum.” Altanar spoke for the first time. One of the older clan leaders, he’d said little up to now about the campaign. “Perhaps the gods are saying we should move on, that there is little here worth the death of so many warriors.”

“You would run from dirt — eaters!” Rethnar spat the words across the circle. “Are you afraid to fight cowards who hide behind a wall?”

“No, Rethnar, I’m no more afraid of them than I am of you.” Altanar’s hand went to his sword hilt. “But many more warriors are sure to die before we take this place. Will slaves make up for warriors lost? The dirt — eaters have no horses. Where will we find new horses even to replace those mounts lost last night?” He shrugged. “If Rethnar wants to stay behind and capture the village, so be it. But I say there is nothing here for us.”

“You are a coward,” Rethnar said, leaping to his feet and drawing his sword.

Altanar rose with him, his own blade flashing from its sheath.

“Sit down!” Thutmose — sin shouted the words, but the two clan chieftains, if they even heard his command, had gone too far to stop.

Pandemonium broke out in the camp. Clansmen of Rethnar and Altanar rushed up. Thutmose — sin’s guards, extra alert after last night’s failure, scooped their leader up and pulled him away from the circle. They formed a barrier between him and the melee that had exploded before their eyes.

A dozen men were fighting in a moment, and more would be rushing to join them. Thutmose — sin knew it needed to be stopped now.

“Guards,” he shouted in a voice loud enough to be heard over the fighting, “Kill anyone who doesn’t stop fighting now! Kill them!” His men surged forward. They easily outnumbered the handful of fighters, who saw the menace in their advance. The two clan leaders broke off their duel, and their clansmen followed reluctantly.

“Stand between them,” Thutmose — sin ordered, his voice carrying to everyone now that the clash of weapons had ended. “Kill anyone who doesn’t put down his sword! I’ll not have you killing each other because of the dirt — eaters.”

With an oath, Rethnar lowered his sword. A moment later Altanar did the same. The two men glowered at each other. Thutmose — sin stepped forward, moving into the center of the space. “Or would you rather fight me?” He looked around the circle. “Chioti, bring me my sword.”

Thutmose — sin waited, surrounded by angry men still clasping bronze in their hands, until Chioti pushed the guards aside and handed him a sword. Taking the blade, he hefted it, then swung it hard over his head, the weapon hissing through the air. “Do you want to challenge me, Altanar?”

When the clan leader didn’t respond, Thutmose — sin turned to Rethnar.

“Do you, Rethnar?”

Rethnar took his time answering, and Thutmose — sin knew the clan chief was wondering how much the fight last night might slow Thutmose sin down. He walked over to Rethnar, the sword pointed at the ground.

“Are you challenging me?” Thutmose — sin spoke softly, but everyone heard the menace in his words.

“No, Sarrum. It’s just that…”

“Then you, both of you, sheath your swords, send your men away, and sit down. I’ve something to say.”

He waited until Rethnar and Altanar settled onto the ground. “Altanar is right,” he began. “We will lose many more warriors in taking this village.

And it’s true there will be little of value inside Orak to make up for those who die.” Thutmose — sin turned to Rethnar. “But Rethnar is right also. If we don’t defeat these miserable villagers, every dirt — digger in the land will begin moving to the nearest village. They will band together and resist us.

Once they know we can be driven off, we’ll be fighting over every farm and mud hut we encounter.”

He moved in front of Altanar. “Would you change the path of our migration, Altanar? If we fail to take this place, we can never come back to these lands again. If we do, Orak will be twice as strong, with twice as many fighters within. Is that what you want your sons, your clan to face?”

Thutmose — sin walked around the circle, his eyes challenging each clan chief and his subcommanders. “No, my clansmen, we are no longer fighting here for horses or loot, not even for honor. This Orak must be destroyed, or these lands will be forbidden to us. We’re fighting to live the way our fathers before us lived.”

He moved back to his place and sat down, keeping his sword across his knees. When he spoke, he lowered his voice, so that only those within the circle could hear. “This village must learn the price of war. We must kill many more of them, just as we’ve destroyed their crops and burned their houses. This battle must be fought, not because of what we might gain, but because of what we will lose if we just ride away.”

No one said anything. “Then it is settled,” Thutmose — sin said. “We attack as soon as the wagons and wood have been replaced. For this next attack, nothing will be held back. Every man and boy that can fight will march on the village.” Again he looked around the circle. “And when it is taken, we’ll put any survivors to the sword and tear down every wall and house until there’s nothing left but the mud from the river.”

Eskkar got less than two hours’ sleep, the pain in his back wakening him. The window showed only the faintest light in the dark sky to indicate the approaching dawn. Despite the lack of sleep his thoughts seemed as alert as if he’d slept the whole night. But every muscle in his body protested as he began moving about. The bandage on his arm had slipped a little. He ran his fingers over it, but felt no traces of fresh blood.

Slipping quietly from the bed so as not to waken Trella, he dressed quickly. He gathered his sword and entered the workroom, where he un-fastened the outer door as a yawning Annok — sur was about to knock and awaken her mistress.

Esk kar held his finger to his lips. “Good morning, Annok — sur,” he whispered, “I’ll wake her. Can you bring breakfast up, and send Bantor and Gatus to me when they arrive?”

“Captain, Gatus just sent word. He asks that you come to the gate.”

He stared at her but she had nothing more to add. “Bring breakfast for Trella, then. Make sure she eats before she goes out.” Esk kar returned to the bedroom and sat down on the bed. The movement made Trella turn over but she remained asleep. A bit more light came through the windows, just enough to illuminate her. She lay with a hand flung up over her head, her dark tresses scattered across the pillow.

When she slept, she seemed so young, too young for the burden she carried. Her life and future hung on the same thread as his, the thread he’d created in his pride when he told Nicar the barbarians could be beaten.

Nothing must harm her, Esk kar decided. The barbarians, the nobles, nothing and no one must hurt her again. First he would defeat the barbarians, then he would increase his power over the nobles. He swore it by all the gods he didn’t believe in. Esk kar wanted to kiss her but worried that his touch might awaken her. Better to let her have a few more moments of peace.

By the time he was downstairs he’d put all thoughts of Trella behind him. He stopped in the kitchen where he drained a cup of water and picked up a round loaf of bread that he chewed as he went outside in the early morning sun. Esk kar nodded to his guards, checked briefl y with those at the command table, then mounted the ever — present horse. He rode slowly out of the courtyard, his guards jogging after him, the loaf of bread held firmly in his hand.

Few villagers had risen early this morning. Many had stayed up late last night celebrating the victory over the Alur Meriki. Another victory.

Like thieves in the night, he and his men had crawled on their bellies into the barbarian camp, stampeded some horses, and burned a few wagons.

Then they’d run for their lives. Today the whole village might pay the price for our “victory.” Esk kar kept these black thoughts to himself. When he reached the gate, he swung down from the horse, tossing the halter to a half — awake boy.

Climbing to the top of the tower he found Gatus sitting on a stool so tall that he could see more than if he were standing. His second in command had traces of mud over his body, and Esk kar realized that Gatus had remained on the wall all night.

The rising sun shone in Esk kar’s eyes as he peered into the east. “Well, Gatus, I see you’ve missed another night’s sleep. What is it now?” He tore the remaining bread in half and handed it to Gatus, who took the still — warm bread gratefully.

“Last night, a few hours after you left, we saw something.” Gatus took a bite of the bread, then chewed it thoughtfully before continuing. “Another fire broke out in their camp. Not near where you burned the wagons, but close to the center of the plain. We watched it for a while and, just as it disappeared, we heard sounds of fighting. That went on for a few moments, then stopped. Then just before dawn, we thought we heard fighting again.”

Putting the last of the bread into his mouth, Esk kar shaded his eyes as he scanned the horizon. Thin trails of smoke still rose from behind the low hill where he’d burned the wagons but he saw no other sign of fi re. Many men on horseback moved about on the low hills, and he could see dust trails from those out of sight. As he watched, a line of riders appeared on the top of the slope where Esk kar had crouched last night, about twenty in all. Clan leaders come to inspect the damage in daylight and plan their next move.

“We’ve made them very angry, I think.” Esk kar kept his eyes on the riders as they moved slowly across the hilltop. “They lost horses and wagons last night, as well as much of the wood they’ve gathered in the last few weeks. Most of all, they’ve been humiliated, raided by dirt — eaters. The warriors and chiefs are very angry at their leader or whoever they decided to blame for our attack. They may have tried to kill Thutmose — sin. If they succeeded, we’ll be facing a new chief, one who may have entirely different ideas. Or Thutmose — sin may have blamed some of the other chiefs and attacked them.”

Gatus finished off his portion of the bread. “Well, the more they fight each other, the better I like it. Or maybe they’ve had enough and will move on? I don’t suppose anything will happen today, do you think?”

Esk kar wasn’t about to take any chances. “Not today. But I’ll stay here for a while. Send Sisuthros to me. Then you get some sleep.”

Gatus opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. “Very well.

I’ll go to your house to sleep. Bantor is well enough to manage the command post for a few hours.” He waited a few moments, but Esk kar didn’t say anything, just stared across the plain. Shrugging, Gatus left the wall, after first telling his men where he would be and when he should be called.

Esk kar scarcely noticed his departure. There seemed to be an unusual amount of activity in the barbarian camp. Without thinking, he sat down upon the now — vacant stool. Small clouds of dust hung everywhere, signifying riders moving from place to place, most of them out of eyesight. He tried to put himself in Thutmose — sin’s place.

If I survived a challenge to my authority, I’d have to attack the village. For Thutmose — sin to abandon the siege now would be to admit failure, and too many had died in too many clans to allow that. Tempers and hatreds would have exploded in fury last night, and blood would have to spill to settle the score. So if Thutmose — sin remained in control, Esk kar decided, then we can expect an all — out assault today, or more probably, tomorrow.

The Alur Meriki would first try to replace some of the lost wood, and they might need more time to round up their horses.

Esk kar felt certain about one thing. If… when the attack came, it would be unrestrained. The barbarians had more than enough men for one final assault. Every man would be flung at the walls, and it would be victory or disaster for the Alur Meriki. For if they failed, their ranks would be so diminished that other large villages or clans would seize the opportunity to oppose them.

But if Thutmose — sin had been removed, then maybe… there might be a chance that the new leader would move on. The new ruler, whoever he might be, could blame all the failures on his predecessor, could say it was too late in the season to keep fighting, could claim they’d be back in a few years to take their revenge, anything. The Alur Meriki had enough reasons to satisfy those ready to abandon the fight. The clan would move on, and the new leader would be busy for the next few years consoli-dating his power. And there would be plenty of wives, concubines, and horses to distribute to his new supporters-the former property of those killed.

So Orak’s best hope was that Thutmose — sin was dead. Esk kar thought about that, wishing for some way to kill the leader of the Alur Meriki, hoping that some clansman had solved his problem with a knife in Thutmose — sin’s back.

Esk kar stayed on the wall the rest of the day. No attack came, a fact he attributed completely to the raid. At least, no attack on the village. Late in the afternoon, for a few moments, some of those watching the plain claimed to hear more sounds of fighting in the enemy’s camp. But nothing could be seen, and Esk kar heard nothing.

Nevertheless, even if there were no actual fighting, plenty of sharp words and accusations would be exchanged by clan leaders unhappy with Thutmose — sin’s performance. And warriors don’t fight well when their leaders quarrel, he knew, both from his own experience and the old days under the command of Ariamus.

The sun finally set. The soldiers maintained their vigilance throughout the night, taking no chances. Gatus again walked the walls much of the night. Still the pause gave Esk kar time to catch up on his sleep, though dawn found him on the wall again, anxiously watching the hilltops. But the morning sun brought nothing new, and that day passed as well, with no noticeable activity.

With the arrival of darkness, however, the men on the walls saw the lights from campfires reflecting up into the darkness, and these seemed to burn brighter and longer into the night than usual. The men watched and waited throughout the early evening.

Finally Esk kar turned to Sisuthros and Gatus. “I think our waiting is over. Tomorrow… I think it will be tomorrow. They’ll come with the dawn.”

“Then we’ll be ready,” Sisuthros answered grimly.