Authors: Sam Barone
A few days later they practiced from the main wall, looking out toward the low hills where their real enemy would appear. Now the soldiers fired as a group, aiming not at individual targets, but at a particular range. The targets had changed from the straw butts to stick figures planted in the earth at various distances. The men drew, aimed, and loosed their arrows together on command, learning how to gauge the distance and walk their shafts in from the farthest mark to the closest.
The fi rst day on the wall Esk kar noticed something unusual. The men were always laughing, raising coarse jests, or doing all of the usual things soldiers and recruits did to take their minds off their own discomfort and to pass the time during training. But the first time they stood on the wall, the laughter stopped of its own accord. Taking their places, exposed from the waist up, they realized that a deadly business would soon be at hand.
So they listened to the instructor’s words a little more attentively, and took a little extra care in their work.
At the end of the first session, Totomes took Esk kar aside. “You’re finished with your training, Captain,” he said. “You’re as good as you’ll ever be. But you’ll never make a master archer. You’re too old for that. Leave the training now before too many of the others pass you by. You’ve proven your skill to your men. There are other, more important tasks for you.”
–-
Esk kar rode out of Orak six days later, taking Sisuthros, nine riders, two boys, and one pack horse with him. They traveled south at a steady pace. Jalen had explored north to get information about the barbarians’ main camp. Esk kar wanted to observe the far - ranging Alur Meriki war parties reported to the south.
The men were fit, hard, and ready to fight. Six were hard - bitten veterans. Recent recruits made up the remainder, men who’d proven both their fighting ability and horsemanship. When you went to war against the barbarians, skill with a horse was as important as fighting.
Mitrac excepted. Totomes’s youngest son had only limited experience with horses. Nevertheless Mitrac practiced hard for the last week under Jalen’s tutelage. Once Esk kar saw Totomes’s expertise, Esk kar wanted someone with him who could draw one of the great weapons.
Even so it had occasioned a four - sided argument between Esk kar, Totomes, and his sons before the father consented, worried he might lose Mitrac on some minor raid. Totomes gave in only when Esk kar promised to look after the boy personally.
Each day they rode south, resting the horses often. Esk kar spent time with Sisuthros, Mitrac, and the rest, talking to them, asking their advice, or just joining them in rough song.
Get close to your men, from the lowest recruit to
your commanders
, Trella advised.
First make them respect you, then let them know
you. That’s how you build loyalty.
Her words matched what he’d seen in Corio and Nicar. Esk kar didn’t know where Trella had learned so much about leading men, but her ideas made sense. He’d only to recall all the mistakes of his previous commanders or even his own to see the wisdom in what she said. So he began in earnest to build respect, then loyalty, in his men.
Only with loyalty can you have true power.
The words echoed in his thoughts.
If enough of the soldiers and people believe in you, you will be safe, because your enemies will fear the anger of those who trust in you.
And so Eskkar made sure he got closer to his men.
In this Esk kar had changed greatly in the last months. Gold, women, horses, weapons, all the things he’d previously considered desirable, meant nothing to him. He wanted power now, power to place himself above the reach of the nobles, power to found his own House, power to build a clan that would last forever. Most of all, he wanted to safeguard Trella, to make sure their future remained secure.
But now Esk kar needed to concentrate on the present, so he put thoughts of Trella and Orak out of his mind and focused on his mission.
By the fifth day they’d traveled over a hundred miles south of Orak, and soon he began hearing stories of an Alur Meriki raiding party.
Wayfarers, refugees, and travelers turned pale with fear when Esk kar and his riders approached. Their faces turned to smiles when they learned Esk kar came from Orak. From these wanderers he pieced enough stories together. The barbarians had finally reached the banks of the Tigris almost two hundred miles south of Orak. As yet they hadn’t started north.
They would do that soon enough. No one had any real idea of the size of the war parties. Wild estimates of hundreds of warriors stripping the lands meant nothing. Esk kar divided every count by four, knowing fear and inexperience would infl ate the numbers. He felt certain that two separate raiding parties existed.
Esk kar warned those they encountered not to go to Orak unless they wanted to fight. Otherwise they should cross the river as soon as possible.
That night, after caring for the horses, they sat around the small fire, enjoying fresh meat for only the second time since leaving Orak. They’d found a dying calf, separated from its mother, and the young animal had barely enough flesh on its bones for a hearty meal. The warm meat provided a respite from grain cakes and stale bread.
When the meal ended, Esk kar sent one of the boys to a nearby hill to keep watch and gathered the rest of the men. Each night he spoke about the coming day, so everyone knew what they were likely to confront.
“We’ve gone south long enough. Any day the Alur Meriki may turn north. So tomorrow, we head eastward. The barbarians have already passed through those lands.”
“Why not go farther south,” Sisuthros asked, “to see how many men they have?”
“We’ll learn nothing more by going south. The barbarians have reached the river with at least one large raiding party. If we encounter them after they have turned north, they’ll pursue us, and in a few days ride us down, even with our fine horses.”
“What will we find to the east, Captain?” Sisuthros still sounded un-convinced.
“We should find groups of men and slaves moving north and south between the main body and these southern raiders. They won’t be expecting men to come at them from this direction, now that their warriors have swept this land. I’d like to capture one or two, to learn how many they are and what they plan. Remember, we’re not out looking for a fight, just information. I want to get you back to Orak alive.”
Most commanders gave little thought to the lives of their men, so he knew his words had touched them.
“So if we encounter any barbarians,” Sisuthros said, “we run?”
The men itched for a fight. Young and brave, they trained hard for weeks, and that training had given them confidence and the urge to test themselves against the enemy. “Yes, we run unless we meet a small party, one closer to our size. Then maybe we’ll have a chance to test our blades.”
The next morning they traveled at a moderate pace, with two men ranging ahead, and another to their rear. They rode that way for three days, stopping often to rest the horses, traveling only ten or fifteen miles each day, seeing fewer farms or people, and instead more empty land as the cautious riders moved deeper into rough country to the east.
They reached the beginnings of hill and canyon country, with the great mountains looming ever closer. By now Orak lay far to the northwest.
The ninth day since leaving Orak, the morning showed a sky gray and heavy with clouds, hinting at rain. They kept to their usual pace, keeping away from the hilltops and stopping often to rest the animals.
An hour past noon, after they dismounted to rest the horses, the man keeping watch raised a shout and pointed toward the mountains. In an instant Esk kar leaped on his horse, looking eastward. He saw the south-ernmost of his scouts galloping back toward them. Turning to his left, he saw the other scout also returning, but at a more reasonable pace.
The fi rst scout, a veteran named Maldar, pulled up in front of Esk kar.
All the men had mounted their horses, readied their weapons, and let their eyes scan the horizon in every direction.
“Captain, there’s a large band of barbarians about three miles ahead.”
Maldar’s voice betrayed his excitement. “Or maybe two bands. I couldn’t be sure, but it looks as if they’re fighting, lots of dust and noise.”
Fighting among the barbarians! That didn’t sound right to Esk kar. The Alur Meriki had serious penalties for fighting amongst themselves when on the clan’s missions. At home in the main camp, individuals often fought, but conflicts between groups of warriors seldom occurred. Even if two clans opposed each other, everyone preferred to let the leaders fight it out.
But who else could they be fighting?
“Maldar, switch horses with one of the boys.” He wanted Maldar on a fresh mount. “Sisuthros, get the other scout in and follow us, but keep at least half a mile behind.”
Esk kar waited until Maldar had moved his gear to the new animal. The fright Esk kar saw on the boy’s face would have made him laugh once, but now Esk kar smiled encouragement. “Stay steady, boy, we’ll not leave you behind.” Then Esk kar and Maldar rode off at a canter. A small cloud of dust rose and soon settled in their trail.
Before long the two men reached the base of the outlying hills. From there successive ridges of earth rose ever higher, until the base of the great peaks blocked the path. Esk kar imagined he could hear the distant clash of bronze weapons and the cries of men fighting, but when he stopped and listened, he heard nothing.
“Here, Captain, from this hilltop I saw them.” A winding trail, marked by the hoof prints of Maldar’s horse, led to the top. Esk kar could ride up, as Maldar had done, or he could climb the steep hill on foot. Esk kar decided not to risk the horses.
“Come,” he ordered, “we’ll climb on foot.” They rode the last few paces to the base of the hill, dismounted, and tied the horses fast to a small tree.
Esk kar made sure he tied his knot tight and that Maldar did the same. If they had to run, Esk kar didn’t want to be fighting his own man over a horse should one of the animals get loose.
They began the long climb, scrambling much of the way and slipping back occasionally until they reached the top. None of his recent training had prepared him for climbing steep hills, and he was breathing hard by the time they gained the summit. Low boulders covered the narrow crest, with patches of grass sprouting between them. He dropped down between two rocks.
Looking out over the spreading foothills, Esk kar found himself on a hilltop somewhat higher than those in front of him. It provided a good vantage point to observe the grayish - red slabs of rock that protruded down from the higher mountains and formed a labyrinth of canyons and gullies that twisted and turned back on themselves.
Maldar pointed to the northeast, “See, there they are. No, wait, they’ve moved toward us.”
Another ridge crest separated Esk kar from the swirling cloud, but he could make out the dust of many riders, a constantly churning cloud that moved and shifted as he watched. It did look as if two groups battled each other in a running fight. As he watched, one band broke through the ranks of the other and headed toward Esk kar’s position, following the line of hills that ran roughly parallel to the ridge Esk kar occupied, but more than a mile away.
In moments the other riders regrouped and took up the chase. “Count the first group, Maldar,” he ordered while he tried to estimate the second and larger body. The strange riders were still far off and the horses moved and merged, making counting difficult. Sixty - five or seventy men, he guessed.
“Forty, maybe a few more. Why do they fight each other, Captain?”
Esk kar turned his attention to the first troop, close enough to distinguish some detail. They either had no standard or had lost it in battle.
Yet even the dust couldn’t hide the yellow streamers that decorated many lances and bow tips. Yellow meant another clan, for red marked the pre-dominant hue of the Alur Meriki. So a different tribe of steppes people had somehow gotten involved in a fight with the Alur Meriki.
Esk kar watched the leading band turn toward them, seeking a path out of the hills and canyons that threatened to pen them in. The pursuing band began to gain on their quarry, their horses obviously fresher, though all the animals would be tired by the fighting and the chase. He’d seen enough. “Let’s go, Maldar. We don’t want to be here when …”
His voice trailed off as he watched the yellow riders gallop into a canyon. From his vantage point, Esk kar could see their path led nowhere.
In a few moments the yellow riders whirled their horses about and rode back out, the gap between pursued and pursuers shortened by the time wasted on the false trail. A short ride would bring them to another fork.
One branch led to a narrow, twisting trail that would lead to the open plain where Esk kar’s men now waited.
The other branch, twice as wide, led into another, larger canyon, one that twisted and turned alongside the cliffs, but one he could see ended in a second cul - de - sac. But it wouldn’t look that way to the harried riders. A flash of insight possessed him, almost as if he could see what would happen. At the same time, an idea, a foolish one perhaps, took hold of him.
His eyes marked the landmarks beneath him.
“Come,” he ordered, his mind made up, and he began scrambling down the steep hillside, grasping at roots and the hard rock edges that jutted through the thin grasses.
At the bottom Esk kar waited for Maldar to come rattling down, then grabbed his arm to halt him. “Walk slowly toward the horses, Maldar.
Don’t spook them.”
They reached the horses that watched nervously, nostrils flaring and eyes wide at the unusual sight of men and stones sliding down the hillside.
Esk kar made sure he had a firm grip on the halter before he undid the knot, looking at Maldar to make sure he followed his example. Once mounted, Esk kar led the way back to Sisuthros and the rest of his men, hidden from view by yet another tiny rolling swell sprinkled with skimpy grass.