Eskkar & Bracca

Iltani

Summer of 3161 BC, the Land Between the Rivers. .

Eskkar stared at the hunk of stale bread resting on the tavern’s grimy table and tried to ignore the ongoing argument with the innkeeper. Bracca, Eskkar’s companion, still traded words with the owner, complaining about the day-old bread and the half-filled cups. By now both men had raised their voices, each attempting to shout down the other. Bracca repeated his demands for more food and drink, while the innkeeper refused to offer any more without another coin.

Eskkar gritted his teeth. The innkeeper’s hand rested on the sagging plank table that separated them, ready to grasp the handy cudgel and splatter Bracca’s brains across the room. Of course Bracca would have his sword in the man’s chest before that happened, but the fight wouldn’t stop there. The handful of patrons enjoying the shouting match would join the fray, and Eskkar would have to do the same.

Another senseless fight, and even if no one got killed, the inevitable outcome would be more trouble for Eskkar and Bracca. But Bracca relished tavern brawls almost as much as he liked trading sharp words with angry innkeepers. Eskkar, on the other hand, hated the thought of dying in some dank village hut, a gloomy fate that seemed more likely with every passing day.

Of course the man had cheated them, taking their last copper coin and promising a cup of fine ale and half a loaf of bread for each of them. The ale, so watered down as to be little more than brown water, had vanished down Eskkar’s throat in three unsatisfying gulps. The bread, yesterday’s from the hard feel of the brown crust, lacked any taste whatsoever. Eskkar knew he would end his meal as hungry as when he sat down.

But every tavern owner in the Land Between the Rivers cheated his customers, especially strangers just passing through. Only a fool expected anything different, which made Bracca’s quarrel an even greater waste of time. Not to mention that Eskkar, a barbarian outcast from the north, and Bracca, a Sumerian thief from the south, were considered worse than mere travelers and should expect to be treated accordingly.

Picking up his bread, Eskkar rose, making enough noise so as to draw every eye to his tall frame covered with hard muscle. A long horse sword jutted up over his right shoulder. “Let’s finish our meal outside.”

The brief words, spoken with the heavy accent of someone from the steppes, stopped not only the innkeeper’s tirade, but also dissuaded the regular customers from joining the argument. Eskkar, ducking his head beneath the low ceiling, strode between them without a glance and stepped outside into the bright sunlight.

Squinting his eyes, Eskkar found a rickety table alongside the tavern’s outer wall a few steps from the entrance. Ignoring the bird droppings, he eased himself onto the hard bench. A moment later Bracca emerged, a frown on his face, and slumped onto the bench opposite Eskkar.

“Bastard should have given us at least another cup of ale.”

Eskkar shrugged. “It’s only water, so why fight over it?”

Bracca snorted. “I don’t like being cheated, especially by some farm hand.” He sighed. “Still, I suppose you’re right. Maybe we should come back at night, cut his throat, and take whatever coins he’s got buried under his bed.”

Villagers always buried their valuables underneath their beds, as if no robber would ever think of looking there. A few of the more enlightened hid their goods in the garden, which usually required a little longer to find. Bracca swore he could smell the hiding places, and for all Eskkar knew, he really could.

“If that fat fool had anything of value or even some decent food, I’d do it. But we don’t need another gang of angry farmers chasing us across the countryside.”

For once, Bracca had nothing to say. In the last ten days, they’d left a trail of irate farmers behind them. Eskkar took advantage of the precious moment of silence to take another bite from his bread.

“Why is that man staring at you?”

Eskkar lifted his gaze from the dirty table. Bracca’s soft voice now held just the hint of concern that made it different from the steady stream of words he incessantly bantered about. For the sake of his ears, Eskkar tended to ignore most of Bracca’s never ending comments. But while his friend might talk too much, Bracca knew when to keep quiet. And when to make his words count.

Without moving his head, Eskkar took a quick glance at the idlers hanging about the village center — this pathetic collection of mud huts didn’t rate calling it a marketplace. He needed only a moment to pick out the young man squatting on the far side of the open space who had caught Bracca’s attention.

The man indeed continued to stare, not with the usual open-mouth, I’ve-never-seen-a- barbarian-before, but with closed lips and furrowed brow. Nor did he turn away when Eskkar glanced in his direction. That warranted a longer look. Most people lowered their eyes when Eskkar glared at them.

Over the years, Eskkar had learned to ignore the sneers or rude looks that followed him everywhere. Well into his twenty-sixth season, his powerful bulk and features proclaimed his steppes ancestry to everyone he encountered. Taller than almost all villagers, his unkempt, dark brown hair and scarred face tended to frighten most people. The long sword he carried slung across his back made them even more nervous.

He brushed the hair away from his face, and took in the man, clearly a farmer by the dirt and caked clay that clung to his feet and legs. Only long days laboring in the muck of the fields or the mud of an irrigation ditch stained a man like that.

“Don’t know him.” Eskkar shrugged and turned his attention back to the last scrap of bread that rested on the table. The stale loaf had cost them their last copper coin, and he didn’t intend to waste even the tiniest crumb. “Just some dirt eater.”

The barbarian warriors of the steppes called anyone who lived off the land, whether on farm or village, dirt eaters. The horse fighters killed them at every occasion. A blade or arrow in the stomach let them die a lingering and painful death. The lowest herd animal butchered for food or pleasure fared better.

“Well, I think he knows you,” Bracca said. He shifted his stool, and now faced slightly away from the stranger. “That’s more than just simple curiosity. Have you killed any of his friends or relatives?”

“No, and I haven’t fucked his wife or sister either.” Eskkar swallowed the last hard crust of bread, and licked his lips, wishing there were more. “I’ll go ask him.”

But the farmer must have decided he’d seen enough. When Eskkar turned his eyes back across the open space, the man had vanished.

“Well, he’s gone.”

“And so should we be on our way,” Bracca said. “There’s a gang of armed men coming toward the inn.”

Eskkar glanced over his shoulder. A quick count showed seven men, all carrying weapons, heading toward them. Armed men meant trouble. Villagers seldom carried weapons. Most relied on a simple knife, a dull working tool usually made of low quality copper. But those approaching carried a mix of short swords and longer knives, the kind favored by fighting men.

Eskkar shifted his weight, and moved his feet. Bracca had already done the same, though he still appeared to be taking his ease.

The leader of the little troop, a burly man with a pointed beard barely into his thirties, halted a few steps away from Eskkar and his friend.

“What’s your business here?” The man wasted no time on pleasantries. His beard jutted up and down as he spoke, which made his question seem even more menacing. “Were you planning to work for Ulman?”

Bracca shifted again, to face his questioner, and summoned his most cheerful face. “Not that it matters, Master, but who is Ulman? As for my friend and I, we’re just passing through, heading north.”

Eskkar said nothing, just turned slightly as well. He relied on Bracca’s smooth tongue to handle any villager’s questions. However both men, without revealing any preparation, were ready to fight. Most people tended to discount Bracca’s small stature, and they assumed that Eskkar’s bulk slowed him down. Those assumptions had proven fatal more than once, as the two companions were quick on their feet and deadly with their weapons.

“Ulman was a farmer and a troublemaker. He had a farmstead just north of the village. Ulman wanted to take the land of others, and tried to hire outsiders to fight for him. Two days ago, we killed him for it. So my master, Katha, wants no more strangers in Norvel.”

Another village feud, Eskkar decided. Petty farmers squabbling over some insignificant scrap of dirt as if it were a gold mine. Norvel must be the name of this particular collection of crumbling huts and its surrounding farmholds.

“Well, then, you’ve no quarrel with us.” Bracca’s wide smile and light tone should have put the man at ease. “We’re just heading north, until we can cross the Euphrates.”

The soft words didn’t mollify Katha’s steward. “Then get on your way, and don’t stop until you’re across the river. If I see you hanging around, I’ll kill you both.”

Bracca’s smile never wavered. “No need to worry, Master. We were just leaving. But if I may ask, what is your name?”

“My name is Takcanar, and I’m Katha’s Chief Steward.” He turned his gaze toward Eskkar. “Is your friend a barbarian?”

“Alas, yes,” Bracca said. “A miserable outcast from his clan, so he’s no threat to anyone. I hired him to accompany me. His ugly face helps keep away the thieves.”

“We don’t like barbarians.” Takcanar leaned over and spat on the ground, the spittle just missing Eskkar’s sandal. “Some clan passed through here last year, burned the crops and a lot of farms.”

“Well, last year we were far to the south,” Bracca said. “So we. .”

“Get out of the village. Now! Or I’ll have my men cut you down.”

As ever, Bracca’s conciliatory tongue had put the men at ease, even as it increased their confidence. Taking their courage from their leader’s truculent manner, they were ready to attack.

Lifting his head and fixing his gaze on Takcanar, Eskkar stood, taking his time, and letting his size and bulk put the first doubt into Takcanar and his men.

“We’re leaving,” Eskkar said. “Unless you want to try and stop us?” He hooked his left thumb on the sling of his scabbard. That would make it easier and faster to draw the long sword that jutted up over his right shoulder.

Takcanar took a half step backward, his hand moving toward the hilt of his sword. By then Bracca was on his feet. Suddenly the two men, with their backs protected by the wall of the inn, had turned from helpless strangers into potentially dangerous fighters.

Eskkar watched the smiles fade from Takcanar and his followers. They, too, had realized that their usual intimidation tactics, ones that worked well on outnumbered and untrained farmers, might not prove effective against armed men who made fighting their trade.

“Be on your way, then,” Takcanar snapped. But he moved aside, and his men did the same, without waiting for orders.

With two quick steps, Bracca glided past the closest of the men. Eskkar followed more slowly, his eyes never leaving Takcanar’s face. In moments, they were out of any immediate danger, and in a few steps more, they moved past the outskirts of the village.

“Well, as long as they don’t have any bows, we shouldn’t have any problems,” Bracca said.

“They must have a few in the village.” Both men strode at a rapid pace, Eskkar’s long legs covering the ground with ease. “Better we keep going before they decide to try and use them.”

“Takcanar is the only one who looked like a fighter. The rest are just slow-witted farmers.”

“Fighters or farmers, we don’t need any more trouble,” Eskkar said.

“Agreed.” Bracca quickened his pace. “The sooner we get across the river, the better.”

The two men were headed for a large village on the west bank of the Euphrates. Bracca claimed to have friends there, and since their destination lay close to the wilder northern lands, horses might be easier to find. Thieves had stolen their own mounts almost twenty days ago, forcing the two companions to change their plans and journey to the north — on foot and with only a handful of copper coins.

With luck, they might find employment, and after a few months, earn enough to buy fresh horses. Or more likely, given their aversion to hard labor, find some animals they could steal.

The village of Norvel soon disappeared behind some low hills, and Eskkar eased his pace. He didn’t think Takcanar would bother to come after them. Even if he did, Takcanar would need time to collect bows and weapons. With no horses in the village, the two companions would be difficult to catch, and Eskkar hadn’t seen even a single pony or draft animal in any of the farms they’d passed.

In fact, they hadn’t seen a horse of any kind in the last ten days. The whole countryside seemed empty of horses. Eskkar guessed the barbarian incursion last year had picked clean any decent horseflesh. In their raid last year, the steppes riders would have killed any animals not worth stealing — just one more way of wreaking havoc on dirt eaters.

The two men had covered almost a mile before Bracca slowed and halted. “There’s a man following us.”

Eskkar, who had kept his eyes looking ahead, stopped, turned around, took a quick look, and swore.

“You’re sure you don’t know his wife? His mother, perhaps?” Bracca’s joke sounded even less humorous than it had in the village.

“We’ll find out soon enough.” Eskkar watched the farmer approach, not from the trail directly behind them, but angling down from the low hills that bordered the village. The man alternated between running and a fast walk, so he’d clearly taken the long way to catch up with them. For some reason, he, too, hadn’t wanted to encounter Takcanar and his bullies.

Bracca found a large rock nearby and sat down. Eskkar, annoyed at the dirt eater’s persistence, remained standing. It didn’t take long. The man, breathing hard, covered the last hundred paces at a fast walk.

“Why are you following us?” Eskkar spoke first, before the man had closed within twenty paces.

The farmer stopped only a long stride away. “My name is Zuma. Do you remember me?”

Bracca’s soft chuckle did nothing to sooth Eskkar’s bad-tempered mood. “I’ve never seen you before.”

Zuma refused to be intimidated. “Your name is Eskkar, isn’t it?”

Eskkar hadn’t told anyone in the village his name, and neither had Bracca. Since both of them had many enemies, they rarely used any names, let alone their real ones, in the presence of strangers.

“My name is none of your business.”

“You are Eskkar. I was only a boy, but I remember. You brought Iltani to our farm. My father fed you and gave you a place to stay.”

The name of Iltani brought back a rush of memories. The sick girl Eskkar had saved from the bandits, the one who tossed him a sword just in time to save his life. After the fight, Eskkar had ridden for over a day, holding a weak and recovering Iltani in his arms, until they reached the farm of her kin.

“I knew there was a woman involved.” Bracca’s laughter only increased Eskkar’s foul mood.

Almost eleven years had passed since the fight at the pox-ridden farm house, the first real fight of Eskkar’s young life. He still hadn’t reached his seventeenth season when he killed the bandits raiding Iltani’s farm. So he had, indeed, passed through these lands once before. Iltani’s uncle, Eskkar remembered, had possessed a large family. And they had fed and sheltered him for a few days, though they urged him to move on as soon as he could. Outcast barbarians, even young ones, made everyone uncomfortable.

“And what is that to you?”

“Not long after you left, my oldest brother, Ulman, took Iltani for his wife. Two days ago, Takcanar’s men killed him, and my younger brother. They would have killed me, too, but I was out in the fields.”

“What has this to do with me?”

“I came to the village to seek help,” Zuma said. “But all those who opposed Katha and his hired killers had fled. Those that remain are too afraid even to speak to me, let alone to resist. If you cannot help us, tomorrow Katha and his sons, along with Takcanar and his men, will return to our farm. If any of us are still there, they will kill us. But if we leave, we will starve to death. Iltani and her children will all die. None of our neighbors will dare to take us in, give us work, or even feed us.”

So now there were children involved. Eskkar ground his teeth. None of this affair concerned him, and a few more dirt eaters, alive or dead, meant nothing to him. Nor had he ever shared the pleasures of the gods with Iltani. She’d still been weak from her battle with the pox when he brought her to her kinfolk. He’d wanted to spend time with her, but her grim-faced uncle and his women knew better than to let her get involved with a barbarian.

No, nothing from the past bound him to help her now, nothing except — the sword she had tossed to him. Without that old copper blade, he might have been slain in his first battle. He stared at Zuma.

“Where is your farm?” With luck, the farm would be in the opposite direction, and Eskkar would have an excuse to ignore Zuma’s pleas.

The man couldn’t keep the hope and excitement from his voice. “It’s north of here, the same direction you are going. We can be there well before dark, if we hurry.”

Eskkar grunted. Of course his luck had failed him again. First, Zuma had recognized him in the village, and now Iltani’s farm lay along the path Eskkar and Bracca needed to travel.

He turned to Bracca, still sitting on the rock, his face devoid of expression. Nevertheless, Eskkar knew his companion would be savoring this turn of events.

“Bracca, it’s on the way.” Eskkar hated the pleading tone that slipped into his voice. “We can spend the night at the farm, get something to eat, and be on our way before dawn. If Iltani and her kin want to join us, we can journey with them until they reach some safe place.”

“Then we might as well get moving.” Bracca rose and stretched his arms. “We haven’t had a good meal in days. If they’re going to lose their farm, I’m sure they’ll be able to spare a chicken or two for us. And I can’t wait to meet Iltani.”

Eskkar swore again, and started north, this time stretching his legs. Without looking at Bracca, Eskkar could almost feel the wide grin on his companion’s face. No matter how this turned out, Eskkar knew Bracca’s sarcastic remarks would last for days.

The sun still hung well above the horizon when the three men circled the base of a rocky outcrop. Half a mile ahead, Eskkar saw the farm. As they drew closer, he counted two holding pens for the animals, three low structures that must be living quarters, and a high walled enclosure where the farmers would store their grain, seeds, and anything else they harvested. A narrow stream only a few paces wide separated the pens from the huts.

Irrigation ditches branched off from the flowing water, then divided into an ever increasing number of mud-banked channels that carried the precious liquid to the crops. Even Eskkar knew that a farm this size, and with a fresh water stream running through it, would be a valuable one.

Zuma ran past Eskkar, splashing across the waterway and shouting Iltani’s name. Eskkar and Bracca followed more slowly, as they stepped down into the water. By then the huts had emptied, and Eskkar counted seven children, three women, and two men. One man and his wife were old, easily in their late forties or early fifties, and they appeared even older than that. The other woman, probably the wife of the younger brother Takcanar had recently killed, appeared about the same age as Iltani.

Farm labor aged a man faster than any other work, and proved even harder on women. They lived little better than slaves, forced to work all day and pleasure their husbands at night. Even if a woman didn’t die in childbirth, they aged rapidly and died well before their men folk. Many young girls could not stand the thought of the never-ending drudgery, and deserted both farm and family.

Glancing around, Eskkar wondered how anyone could contemplate living the life of a dirt eater. The Alur Meriki, the most powerful and dangerous of all the steppes clans, held dirt eaters in the lowest contempt, scarcely better than animals, and killed them without compunction whenever the warriors raided these lands.

Iltani, wiping her hands on her ragged dress, kept her eyes fixed on Eskkar as he approached. Zuma, meanwhile, tried to explain how he had come across the two fighters, but Iltani ignored his excited utterances as she moved past him.

“Eskkar. It is you.” Her voice was soft, almost melodious, but her words carried authority. “I have often wondered what became of you, if you survived.”

Eskkar recognized her face, though the skinny girl he carried on his horse had changed greatly. Her body had thickened from the burden of child bearing. Likely her husband had not even waited until she passed through the rites and joined the women before taking her. Uncombed long hair already streaked with gray, hung around her face, as if to conceal the scars from the pox on her cheeks. But her eyes remained as he remembered them, dark, intelligent, and fearless.

“Iltani. It is good to see you again.” Eskkar gestured toward Bracca. “This is my friend, Bracca. We were in Norvel when Zuma found us.”

Bracca stepped forward, moving to Eskkar’s side. “Actually, we’d just been chased out of the village by Takcanar and his men. By chance we happened to be going this way, and Zuma brought us here. Eskkar was very excited at the chance to see you again. He never stopped talking about you.”

A faint smile crossed Iltani’s face. “Your friend has smooth words, Eskkar. But you both must be hungry and thirsty.” She turned to the other women, still standing there, mouths open. “Water for our guests, and bread and dates. They’ll be hungry walking all the way from Norvel.”

Eskkar glanced at Zuma and the other two men. The old man, permanently stooped from working in the fields, appeared as confused as the old woman. The young man probably had less than fourteen seasons, but already his face looked slack and his eyes dull. Zuma was the only one whose wits might be quick enough to help.

Iltani invited the two visitors inside the largest hut, but both Eskkar and Bracca shook their heads. Eskkar had already seen a chicken amble out of the hut, and a room full of children and farm animals would stink almost as much as a pig pen, and probably be just as infested with bugs, mice, and spiders. Eskkar preferred to sleep outdoors, away from the cramped and crowded conditions. Not that he and Bracca intended to sleep here.

Eskkar had already made up his mind, and it took only a quick glance at Bracca’s face to see he had arrived at the same conclusion. Iltani and her family should abandon the farm and move north. Nothing here was worth dying for.

“Iltani, we’ll take whatever food you can spare. But we can’t stay here. If we all start moving now, before it’s dark, we should be able to get far enough away so that by morning, this Katha won’t bother chasing after you.”

“We’ll share our food with you, Eskkar, but I’m not leaving my home. I’ve buried a husband and two of my children here, and raised three others. I won’t be driven from my own land.”

Zuma shook his head. “We must go, Iltani. Think of the children. Katha will kill us, but he’ll make slaves of them, if he lets them live.”

“Go if you want, Zuma. Take the others. But my children and I will stay.”

The determined line of her jaw told Eskkar that she meant her words. “Iltani, you can’t stay. Your children will need you. .”

“You once fought against many men when you were little more than a boy, Eskkar. Now you’re a man. Can’t you and your friend stand up to these murderers?”

Bracca moved beside Eskkar. “Zuma told us that ten, perhaps more, will be here by midmorning, Iltani. In a fight, anything can happen. He said that some of those coming will carry bows. We can’t risk our lives against those odds, not when you can simply leave. Eskkar and I will protect you until we reach the next village.”

“No! I will not leave my farm. Better to die here. When Katha rides up to my house, I will kill him myself.”

Even before she finished, Eskkar glanced at Bracca. He, too, had caught the words. “What do you mean, when he rides up? Does he have a horse?” As far as he and Bracca knew, there wasn’t a horse within fifty miles.

“Of course! Do you think the owner of the biggest farms in the land would ride a cow?”

“How many horses will they have?” Bracca’s gentle tone did nothing to calm down Iltani.

“What does it matter? You won’t be here.”

“How many, Zuma?” Eskkar, too, wanted to know.

“Katha rides a fine stallion,” Zuma said. “And each of his three sons also has a good horse.”

Bracca touched Eskkar’s arm. “We need to talk. Alone.”

Eskkar followed Bracca away from the house, walking until they were a good fifty paces from Iltani and her family.

“What do you think?” Eskkar wasted no time. “Four horses? Is it worth the risk?”

“I don’t want to spend six months working like some farm animal,” Bracca said, “trying to save enough coins to buy some miserable excuse for a horse. If we can’t steal horses from some clumsy farmer, we deserve to walk another hundred miles.”

“We could raid his farm tomorrow night,” Eskkar mused. “We get the family away, and let him take Iltani’s farm. By nightfall, he’ll be so happy we could slip in and steal the horses.”

“Maybe. But the horses will be guarded, and Katha will have farm dogs as well. And we’ll have to hide in the fields during the day. If we’re spotted, Takcanar will use his bowmen and run us down. Here, the horses will come to us, with halters, and ready to ride. All we need to do is kill this Katha and his sons. And from what Zuma says, no one will be eager to avenge their deaths. This is better than anything we’ll find up north.”

“It might work,” Eskkar said. “They won’t be expecting trouble.” He took a deep breath. “We’ll have to kill Takcanar, and probably the bowmen. The rest will run.”

“We’ll need to get them off the horses somehow,” Bracca said. “If they see us waiting for them. . can’t let them just ride away at the first sign of trouble.”

“How are we going to do that? They won’t dismount if there’s a hint of danger. They’ll just gallop away.”

Bracca rubbed his jaw, as he thought the problem over. “What’s the one thing that will get every man off his horse?”

Eskkar glanced back toward the main house, where the little group waited in silence, all eyes on the two strangers. “Mmm, that might work. We’d need some luck. But we’ve got time to prepare, and I’m sure Iltani will do whatever we ask.” He turned his gaze back to Bracca. “Are you willing to risk it? Ten against two?”

“A quick fight or a long walk? If we can’t capture at least two horses, we deserve to be killed on some miserable farm. Besides, you’ll be helping your woman, who will no doubt be appreciative afterwards.”

“Iltani will help,” Eskkar said. “And perhaps Zuma, too. It might be their best chance to keep their farm, and for us to get some horses.”

“Then it’s settled.” Bracca took a deep breath. “Friend Eskkar, if you’re willing to fight for your woman, then I’m ready to stand at your side. Or behind you, since that’s usually safer.” He clapped Eskkar on the shoulder. “Let’s give Iltani the good news.”

“And we better start thinking how to do this, friend Bracca,” Eskkar said. “It’s not going to be easy.”

“When a man loves a woman, nothing is ever easy.”

Eskkar jabbed his fist at Bracca’s arm, but the laughing Sumerian had already stepped out of reach.

Eskkar, Bracca, Iltani, and Zuma worked until it grew too dark to see anything outside. By then, Eskkar and Bracca had sketched out a plan, and made their preparation. Zuma and Iltani would play a role, as would the other woman, whose name was Tiba. She didn’t have Iltani’s quick wits, but she seemed determined enough, though she refused to take orders from anyone but Iltani.

Bracca and Zuma had fashioned two spears from some straight branches. Zuma produced two dull copper knives, and Bracca sharpened their tips, then removed the blades from their handles. Zuma carved a deep groove on the end of each shaft, then wedged in the blade. Strips of tightly wound linen then fastened the blades securely.

As weapons, they wouldn’t last long, but a thrust or two might be all that was needed. At least the spears would give Zuma and Iltani a chance to hold off anyone armed with a sword for a few moments.

Iltani and Eskkar pulled some of the wooden staves from the ceiling of one of the huts. Then they created two crude shields by binding the narrow wooden staves against two crosspieces, tying everything together with the small length of rope that Iltani supplied. More linen strips, cut from her dead husband’s tunic, helped hold each shield together.

Again, the flimsy shields didn’t need to last, as long as they could stop an arrow or two. If they had to withstand more, like a stroke from a sword, Eskkar and Bracca would be in trouble. Even so, they had formed simple thrusting weapons and shields before, so both men moved with efficiency.

Devising weapons and preparing themselves for battle were tasks that didn’t take either man long. They had readied themselves for a fight so often that they instinctively knew how to seek out the best locations and come up with the best tactics. As for being outnumbered, only Takcanar looked like a serious fighter. Katha and his sons might have some fighting skills, but likely had little or no experience using them.

Bracca and Eskkar went over the plan with Iltani. They showed her where to stand, told her what to say, and when to run. She and Zuma would have to do their share. To Eskkar’s surprise, Iltani seemed almost eager to confront Katha and his men. Zuma, too, now preferred to fight rather than run. Aside from being their home, a rich farmstead like this was worth defending.

Eskkar and Zuma circled the farm, studying the approaches. Katha’s men would come from the east, not from Norvel and the south. Eskkar wanted to see what they would see, and how they would guide their horses to the farm. Finally he grunted in satisfaction. He and Bracca would be outnumbered, but that disadvantage could be reduced by the element of surprise, and the speed and savagery of their attack. Yes, he decided, the plan might work, though they were still going to need some luck.

At last they completed their preparations. The cooking fires had burned for some time, and the old woman had butchered four chickens, cut them up, and made a hearty stew for everyone. A real feast, considering that they all might be dead soon. Afterward, Eskkar took his ease, his belly comfortably full for the first time in many days. The night remained warm, a perfect night to sleep underneath the stars.

He and Bracca relaxed against the outside wall of Iltani’s hut, while she finished her chores and prepared her children for sleep. Her calmness kept the others under control, and even the wide-eyed children seemed to understand that tonight was not the evening to annoy their elders. When she finished, she joined the two companions.

“Well, we’re ready enough,” Eskkar said to her. “A few more things to go over in the morning, but we should have time.”

Takcanar and his men wouldn’t be arriving at first light. For all any of them knew, he might not show up until noon.

“Then Tiba and I will make our preparations,” Iltani said.

She called Tiba away from her children, and the two women went off into the darkness. They were gone for some time. By the time they returned, night had settled over the farm and the children and the old woman had taken to their beds.

Iltani, her hair wet from her bath in the stream, wore only a blanket wrapped around her body. She hung her dress, still damp from being washed, on a peg outside the hut. She went into the hut for a few moments, and when Iltani reappeared, she held a second blanket in her arm.

“Come with me, Eskkar.”

He lifted his gaze, unsure for a moment what she intended. But she held out her hand, the unmistakable gesture of every woman asking a man to her bed. For a moment, he stared at her, but she met his eyes, and the hand remained outstretched.

Rising to his feet, he followed her into the darkness, away from huts, the people, and the animals. Holding her hand, they moved past the fields and climbed a grassy hillock. She spread the blanket she carried on the ground, then knelt down. Iltani lifted her gaze, and loosened the damp blanket from her body.

“Join with me, Eskkar. I’ve always wished that you could have taken me. I had to cry in secret when you rode away, otherwise they would have beaten me. Three days later, I was given to my Ulman, to be his second wife. He was a good enough man, but I always wished I could have gone with you.”

He knelt facing her, and put his hands on her bare shoulders. Her warm flesh sent a sensation of pleasure through him, and he felt himself growing hard. “You don’t have to do this, Iltani.”

“Tonight may be the last night of my life, of your life. If I let this chance slip away, when will I ever get another?”

“Bracca and I are doing this for the horses, Iltani. As soon as we get them, we’ll be on our way.”

“I know. No farm will ever hold you. You’ve grown tall and strong, and you must find your own path. It is too late for me, Eskkar. I need to stay here, to raise my children. But I will pray to the gods that someday you find happiness.” She sighed. “Now there should be no more talk. Take me, Eskkar. Let me close my eyes, and be the girl you saved from the bandits many years ago.”

Still holding her shoulders, he leaned closer and kissed her lips, her hair, her cheeks. “I have always regretted not sharing the pleasures of the gods with you, Iltani. Many nights, I've seen your face in my dreams.”

She put her arms around his neck, but he brushed them away, and pulled his tunic up over his head. Her hands reached out to grasp his manhood, already erect, and he pushed her down on the blanket.

Iltani buried her face in his shoulder. “I told Tiba to go to your friend, and pleasure him.”

Eskkar pushed her legs apart and moved over her. What might happen to Bracca meant nothing. The only thing that mattered was that Iltani wanted him, and he wanted her. Then he slid inside her. She moaned in pleasure and pulled him tight against her body.

Their bodies hungered for each other, and the first time was hurried, almost desperate. But the second time lasted far longer, with deeper and more intense pleasure. Satisfied, Eskkar lay back on the blanket. But Iltani had had other ideas. The love making went on, until both were exhausted.

They slept in the field, holding each other close and covered by the thin blanket. Well before dawn, Iltani woke him with a kiss, then disappeared, running back to her family. By the time he dressed and returned to the huts, the first light of morning sent a pink haze into the eastern sky, promising another warm day.

Bracca, wearing his sword, waited for him. A cooking fire already burned, warming a dented copper pot that held fresh water from the stream. Iltani had started ministering to her children, at least the older ones who had awakened.

“Sleep well, friend Eskkar?”

“Well enough.” In truth, Eskkar hadn’t gotten as much sleep as he wanted.

“Tiba came to me,” Bracca said, “but farm girls know little about pleasing a man. Still, she did her best.”

Eskkar ignored the comments. “Are we ready?”

“We soon will be. Let’s eat first. We may not get another chance.”

Midmorning had almost arrived, when Iltani saw the horsemen crest the low hills about a mile away. “They’re coming, Eskkar.”

He nodded, and stepped back inside the smallest hut, out of sight from anyone approaching. Bracca took his position in the second hut. Takcanar’s approach, coming from the east, would follow the path of the stream without having to cross it. That meant they would first pass Eskkar’s hutch, then Bracca’s. Iltani and Tiba stood outside the largest structure, and Zuma remained concealed inside.

Iltani had sent the old man and woman, and all the children, to the top of a rocky hillock more than a mile away. If things went wrong at the farm house, they would try to escape to the north, where they might find some help.

Now Iltani and Tiba stood beside the cooking fire, waiting for Takcanar’s arrival. Both had washed their faces and combed their hair, and done all the little things women do to make themselves more attractive. They were to be the bait that brought the riders close to the main house.

The approaching men had seen the smoke from the fire, so they would know that people remained at the farm. When they saw the women, alone and helpless, thoughts of taking them would be on their minds. With no men in sight, it would be reasonable to assume that Zuma and the others had fled, abandoning the women to their fate.

And since Katha’s sons would expect to be the first to enjoy the women, with luck they would dismount from their horses right in front of Iltani’s hut.

Through a tiny hole that he’d gouged out in the wall, Eskkar watched the little troop as it splashed across an irrigation ditch and then followed the stream. An older man with a white beard, just past the prime of life, led the way on a chestnut stallion. Three others rode behind him, and even at a distance, Eskkar could see the family resemblance. Young and strong, arrogance stamped on every face.

Father and sons all wore swords at their waists. But carrying a sword didn’t make a man a fighter. That required years of practice and the willingness to risk your life. Even killing a few unarmed and untrained farmers didn’t count for much.

Iltani’s farm had likely been promised to one of Katha’s sons, and the family would be eager to take possession, to increase their clan’s wealth. Behind the riders, Takcanar strode along, accompanied by four of his men. Eskkar had expected ten or eleven men, but obviously one or two had remained behind, to guard Katha’s farm. Nevertheless, nine men would have to be killed or driven off. Eskkar saw that two of Takcanar’s men carried bows strung over their chests.

From where Bracca had taken his position, he couldn’t see the riders. Eskkar held up his hands, and gave the count, so that Bracca would know they had nine men to deal with.

Eskkar wiped the sweat from his brow, and rubbed his palms hard against his tunic. His breathing quickened, and he forced himself to take long, deep breaths.

The first moment of danger had arrived. If some of Takcanar’s men broke off to peer into Eskkar’s hut, the danger would be greatly increased. But Iltani’s eyes watched Katha’s men. Just as they drew even with Eskkar’s hut, she stepped in front of the fire and placed her hands on her hips.

“Go back to your farm, Katha! And take your murderers with you! This is my land, and I will not leave it.”

Eskkar, standing well away from the door and deep in the shadows, watched the men react. One man had started for Eskkar’s hut, but now he hesitated, then kept moving forward, eager to see Iltani’s punishment.

Katha’s sons laughed at the sight of the two woman opposing them. Tiba, hands clutching her bosom, abandoned the fire and scurried into the hut, glancing back over her shoulder. The fear on her face was real enough.

Creeping forward, Eskkar peered through the open doorway of the hut. He watched one of Katha’s sons push his horse forward, taking the lead for the last few paces. He slid gracefully from his mount, letting the halter rope dangle. “You’ll soon learn how to speak to your new master.”

Iltani turned away and walked quickly into the hut, disappearing into the dim interior, with the man only a few steps behind her. Katha and his remaining sons dismounted, while Takcanar and his men moved in closer, everyone eager to enjoy Iltani’s beating and degradation.

Drawing his sword and grasping his shield, Eskkar took a deep breath. He remembered his father’s words — just kill the man in front of you. The moment had come.

By now, even the older and slower Katha had climbed down from his horse, and handed the halter rope to one of Takcanar’s men. Once inside and out of sight, Iltani would have snatched up her spear, and held it at her side. Bracca had shown her how to stand, grasp the spear, and how to thrust low. Eskkar watched Katha’s son duck into the hut.

The next moment, a scream from inside the hut broke the silence. Katha’s son was shoved back through the doorway, hands clasped over his stomach. Helpless from the two spear wounds that would have penetrated deep into his body, he took a single step backward. With a cry of pain, he fell on his back, hands feebly trying to staunch the bloody wounds. Standing just inside the entrance, Iltani and Zuma held their spears at the ready. They were to make sure no one escaped into the hut.

Eskkar saw only a quick glimpse of Iltani’s work. He flung himself through the door and burst into a run. He had thirty paces to cover before he reached the men. His pounding steps alerted Takcanar’s men, so Eskkar bellowed his war cry, the frightful sound of the steppes warriors. Then he reached the men, still reacting slowly. Eskkar hurled himself at the closest bowman, wide-eyed and fumbling for his weapon. Eskkar’s long sword swung down, slicing deep into the man’s arm, and ending the threat from one archer.

Cutting and slashing through the men, Eskkar never stopped moving, wielding the long sword with both hands, and whirling it about in constant motion. Striking and dodging, he weaved his way through them. Eskkar took down the second archer with a slashing cut that ripped open his throat, leaving him on the ground and bleeding to death.

Takcanar’s men showed their lack of experience. Instead of rushing together, to ward off any attack, they reacted as individuals, unsure of how to defend themselves against a screaming, bloodthirsty barbarian, one not afraid to attack all of them.

Then Eskkar had to jump aside, as Takcanar lunged his sword at Eskkar’s back. Driving back one of the fighters, Eskkar swung his sword with all his might against Takcanar. But the village bully met the stroke. Eskkar’s overhand stroke clanged against Takcanar’s upraised weapon. As soon as he parried the blow, Takcanar’s lunged at Eskkar’s stomach.

But Eskkar had moved aside and away, to strike at the remaining fighter. Eskkar spun around, narrowly avoiding another of Takcanar’s thrusts. Still bellowing his war cry, Eskkar had to duck away again, as Takcanar pressed his advantage, and the last of his men joined the attack.

With every eye turned toward Eskkar, Bracca had darted unseen from the second hut. He had a much shorter distance to cover, and one of Katha’s sons just managed to draw his sword before Bracca drove his always sharp bronze blade into the man’s chest.

Katha and his remaining son, weapons in their hands, tried to close in on Bracca, but he leapt aside, and ducked beneath one stroke to reach the wall of Iltani’s hut. With that guarding his back, Bracca turned to face his enemies. He’d drawn his knife, and held it in his left hand, sword at the ready in his right.

Father and son moved in to attack Bracca, but then Zuma, screaming in rage, abandoned the doorway, his spear gripped tightly with both hands and held low. That distracted Katha’s remaining son, who managed to deflect Zuma’s spear thrust. But the diversion gave Bracca enough time to use his sword.

Two quick overhand strokes drove Katha back and maneuvered him into his raising his weapon. Like most untrained men, he lifted the weapon too high. Bracca lunged forward, body extended, and drove his blade through the old man’s stomach.

Zuma, still thrusting with the only surviving son, had managed to hold his own, with Iltani’s help. She, too, had left the safety of the hut and stood beside Zuma. Now the last of Katha’s family stepped back, just in time to see his father go down. The sight made him abandon the fight. With a curse, he turned and fled, racing for the horses.

However, the four horses, frightened by the cries of battle and scent of blood, had trotted off, stopping a hundred paces or so away from the huts.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Bracca raced after the man. Long before the fleeing man reached the safety of the horses, Bracca, who could run like the wind, had caught him from behind. A slashing stroke across the back sent him tumbling to the ground. Before the man could regain his feet, Bracca’s sword swung down into the man’s neck. Blood spurted from the wound, and Katha’s last son screamed in pain, dropped his sword, and collapsed on the ground. As much to silence him, Bracca struck again, cutting the cries short.

Takcanar and his man still fought, the two of them managing to keep Eskkar at bay. But Takcanar had heard the fighting behind him. One glance told him the battle was lost. “Run! Run for it.”

He fled toward the east, back the way they’d come. Eskkar breathing hard, let them go. Then Iltani reached his side, her bloody spear still in her hand. He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her tight.

“Katha, his sons, they’re all dead or dying,” Iltani shouted, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “My husband’s murder is avenged.” She touched Eskkar’s arm. “Once again, you’ve saved me.”

The sound of hoof beats made them turn. Bracca rode up, leading the chestnut stallion.

“Grab one of the bows, and mount up,” Bracca shouted, a wide smile on his face. “We’ve still got to take care of the two you let get away.”

“I’ll fetch the bow, Eskkar,” Iltani said.

Eskkar approached the big chestnut, his eyes taking the time to admire the horse’s clean lines. He took the halter from Bracca’s hand, stroked the nervous animal’s neck, and after a few soothing words whispered into the horse’s ear, swung astride.

Iltani handed Eskkar the bow and quiver of arrows. He took them, then put his heels to the steed. In moments, he and Bracca were galloping away from the farm. Up ahead, they could just make out Takcanar and his remaining fighter.

Eskkar slowed the pace to an easy canter. Better to let the two run themselves into exhaustion. Nevertheless, they soon caught up with the fleeing men. Eskkar nocked a shaft to the bowstring as he rode. Many years had passed since he loosed an arrow from the back of a running horse, but the lessons he’d learned in his youth still remained fresh.

A few more strides, and he loosed a shaft into the back of Takcanar’s remaining man, who by now could do little more than stagger along. At such close range, the arrow penetrated deep into the man’s body. He fell hard onto the earth, his arms spread wide.

Ignoring the dying man, Eskkar guided his newly acquired mount toward Takcanar, now the only survivor of Katha, his family, and his men. Takcanar, less than fifty paces ahead, glanced over his shoulder at his pursuers. Eskkar saw the fear on the man’s face.

Takcanar knew better than try to outrun a horse and rider. Clutching his sword, he turned to face his pursuers.

Eskkar slowed his approach until Bracca drew alongside. Eskkar handed him the bow and quiver, and drew his sword. He put the horse to a full gallop, heading straight at Takcanar. For a moment Takcanar held his ground, then he darted aside, trying to strike at the horse’s legs. But Eskkar guided the chestnut slightly away, and his long sword swung down with all of Eskkar’s strength.

Takcanar managed to parry the blow, but the force of the stroke sent him reeling to the ground on one knee. Before he could regain his feet, Bracca rode up and put an arrow into Takcanar’s belly. With a cry of pain, he dropped his sword and slowly crumpled to the ground.

Wheeling his horse around, Eskkar trotted back to the where Takcanar lay holding his stomach and the bloody arrow with one hand, and fumbling for his sword with the other.

“You should know better than to spit at a steppes warrior,” Eskkar said. He slipped from the chestnut, and whirled the blade up, then down. Takcanar tried to block the stroke, but already the arrow had weakened him. Eskkar’s blow knocked the smaller blade aside before it clove into the side of Takcanar’s head. Blood and scalp splattered over the grass.

With a shriek of pain, Takcanar dropped the sword, his legs thrashing wildly. Eskkar shifted his grip and clasped his sword with both hands, the long blade pointed straight down. “This is for Iltani’s husband.” Raising it high, he drove the blade with all his strength into Takcanar’s chest. With one final gasp of breath, Takcanar’s eyes rolled up into his head, and he went limp.

Eskkar stared down at the corpse for a moment. “Coward!” He spit on what was left of the man’s face, then had to use both hands and one foot to free his blade. He cleaned it on Takcanar’s tunic, then scooped up the dead man’s sword.

Bracca grunted in satisfaction. “Bastard. Maybe you should have let him bleed to death.”

Eskkar shrugged. “At least it’s finished.”

In silence, they rode back toward the farm house. But as they drew close, Eskkar spoke. “You know, Bracca, we could stay here for a few days, to make sure that Iltani’s safe. They’ve plenty of food, and you could amuse yourself with Tiba.”

Bracca laughed, a long chuckle that went on and on. “Oh, no, friend Eskkar. I saw the look on Iltani’s face this morning. We’ll stay one more night, then we leave at dawn tomorrow. Any longer, and I wouldn’t be able to drag you away from her. In two days, she’d have you on your knees in the mud, working in her fields.”

As if picturing the sight, Bracca laughed again. “No, it’s time to move on, before something else happens to keep us here. Besides, we’ll need to get far away before we can sell the other two horses and all the swords.”

Eskkar opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. Bracca was right. Better to leave before he got too involved. Still, Eskkar could console himself with the thought of one more night with Iltani. That would have to be enough, he decided. No woman, not even Iltani, was worth becoming a dirt eater.

Bracca broke the brief silence. “You know, now that we’ve got good horses, there’s no need to ride any farther north. We can swing to the southwest, and head toward Uruk. One of the outlying villages is run by a rich elder. I just happen to know where he buries his wealth.”

More than likely the village elder had a few copper coins in a sack. Still, Eskkar had no better suggestion, and one direction was a good as another. Besides, riding with Bracca always brought some new and unexpected adventure. Something unforeseen always managed to change their plans. One of these days, the man would get them both killed, but that’s what riding with Bracca always entailed.

“Good enough, friend Bracca. But the elder better not have twenty men guarding his treasure.”

“Only a handful of slow-witted farmers, I promise you, friend Eskkar.”

Eskkar snorted at that unlikely prospect. Nevertheless, he now possessed a fine horse, and soon Bracca and he would have extra coins in their pouches. And there were still many places they hadn’t visited in the Land Between the Rivers.