Authors: Sam Barone
Esk kar turned to his bodyguards. “Carry Bantor back to the house and find a healer for him.”
A horseman pushed his way through the thinning crowd. Esk kar saw that it was Jalen, come from the rear gate.
“Captain, do you need help here?” Jalen’s voice showed his concern.
“No, not any longer. Any problems at the river?”
“A small party of barbarians rushed the gate, but we drove them back without much trouble. Everything is secure there.”
Esk kar nodded, still hot with emotion. “Where’s Sisuthros? And Maldar?”
Soldiers approached him nervously and the story came out in bits, as each contributed what he knew. Sisuthros had been wounded early, an arrow striking him in the mouth. The missile had passed right through and come out in front of his ear, taking out two of his teeth. He’d been bleeding badly when they took him away.
Maldar had taken an arrow under his right arm and passed out from loss of blood, just as his second in command had been slain. With their commanders wounded, the men had done the best they could. In the tu-mult, no one noticed when the villagers abandoned their duties and ran off.
Esk kar stepped toward the last of his bodyguards, so enraged that the man instinctively took a step backward. “Find the men who left their posts.
Get them and bring them to me. Every one of them! I want them all.”
The cowards had jeopardized everything, though they’d faced little danger themselves. They had seen men die and had run off to hide in their houses or under their beds. As if that would save them. He swore they’d pay for their cowardice. He took a deep breath and tried to control himself.
“Jalen! Take command here. Make sure the defenses are ready for another attack. Clear out the bodies from in front of the gate as well. Get the men water and food, then exchange some of them for fresh men from the other walls. Have the men change their bowstrings, get more arrows and stones … curse all the gods below, you know what to do!”
Everyone burst into activity, any thoughts of celebrating vanished by their captain’s rage and all glad of any opportunity to move away from him. Esk kar took the time to inspect the men in both towers, keeping his anger suppressed and making sure they knew what to do and that help was on the way. When he felt the gate secure, he called out to Jalen. “Send word to Gatus that I’m going back to the house.”
His horse still waited, the reins held by a boy of about twelve seasons.
Esk kar swung onto the animal’s back, took the reins, then reached down and caught the boy’s arm, pulling him up in front of him. “Come with me, lad. You’ve earned a coin for doing your duty today, and I have none with me.” He kicked the horse and they cantered through the narrow streets, people scattering before him, his grim face frightening most of them into silence.
At the house he swung down from the horse, holding the boy in his arm as if he were a child. “Stay with the horse, lad, but get him some water. I may need him again.”
Pushing his way into the courtyard he saw much of the space taken up with wounded. Nicar stood there, directing men and dispatching messengers. Esk kar walked into the house where he found Trella and a dozen women working with the healers. She gave him a brief smile, but went on with her work. Four wounded members of the Hawk Clan lay there, including an unconscious Maldar. Bloody bandages covered his upper body and under his arm.
Esk kar found Sisuthros sitting on the floor, his back against the wall and his chest covered with dried blood. His mouth, jaw, and neck had all been wrapped tightly. These bandages oozed only a trace of blood, though, and the man’s eyes seemed alert enough. Sisuthros couldn’t speak, but he lifted his left hand a little when Esk kar saw him.
Walking over to him, Esk kar took Sisuthros’s good arm gently in his hand. “You look like you’ve been wrapped for burial.” The man tried to shake his head, but the movement brought pain to his eyes. “Rest. We drove them away and the battle’s fi nished for today and probably the next few days.” Esk kar looked around. “Have you seen Bantor?”
Sisuthros raised his hand again, pointing upstairs. Esk kar ran up the stairs to the workroom. He found Ventor there, finishing his work, assisted by Annok - sur, her lips trembling even as she helped bandage her husband, unconscious on the big table.
Esk kar stood there a few moments until the healer stepped back and began putting his instruments into his pouch. “How is he?”
“They pulled an arrow out of his arm,” the healer replied slowly. “That must have been early in the battle. Then another arrow went through the side of his neck.” He looked at Annok - sur. “Your husband is a lucky man.
The arrow missed the big blood carrier.” He turned back to Esk kar. “I’ve washed the wound and bandaged it, but he’s lost much blood and his life now rests with the gods.”
Ventor started to walk away, but Esk kar put out his arm. “Do everything you can for him. He fought bravely today.”
“So did many others, as I can see by their wounds,” he answered tiredly.
“But I will come back when I can. Annok - sur will call me if something happens.” Ventor pushed past Esk kar on his way down the stairs.
“I should be helping the others.” Annok - sur’s voice trembled and her shoulders shook with the effort to hold back the tears. “There are wounded all over the village.”
“Stay here,” Esk kar ordered, “and watch him carefully. Send word if you need anything.” She stood there, twisting a bandage in her hands.
“He’s strong, Annok - sur. The gods will surely help him to recover.”
There was nothing more Esk kar could do, so he returned downstairs, pausing halfway down to survey the aftermath, trying to shut out the moans of the injured. On the battlefield, far from water or healers, with any kind of a serious injury, most men died. Here, with many to care for them, maybe half might live. The women had prepared as best they could, making bandages from clean rags, setting up benches and tables for the injured, and ensuring that water and wine were plentiful, both for those wounded and those helping them.
Esk kar went out into the courtyard, striding over to the table where he found Gatus, Corio, Nicar, Rebba, and the other leaders. Gatus had emerged without a scratch, though he had been exposed often enough. As Esk kar heard their reports he ground his teeth in anger.
The problem was the towers. They drew arrows from every warrior. He swore silently that next time the Alur Meriki came to Orak, they would find more and bigger towers, so that the men defending them were not singled out. And future towers would project out over the wall, so that the defenders would not have to lean out over them to shoot at anyone at the base of the gate or the wall itself. He swore at himself for not thinking of that in advance, though nobody else had thought of it either.
Gatus took one look at his captain, poured some wine into a cup, and handed it to Esk kar. “How are they?” His head turned toward the wounded.
“Sisuthros is good … just can’t talk. Maldar is bad, but may live, if the rot does not set in. Bantor is … has lost a lot of blood and the healer doesn’t know. Or won’t say if he does.”
He held the wine cup to his lips and had to concentrate to keep his hand from shaking—though he wondered why he bothered. Plenty of brave men shook after a fight, grateful to be alive and away from the stress of battle.
“Get the Captain a bench,” Gatus ordered, and one of the Hawk Clan pushed a stool over to Esk kar. “The scribes have finally finished counting our dead and wounded.” Gatus squinted over the clay tablet. “Fifty - one archers dead, sixty - two wounded. If they come again, we’ll have to strip the men from the rear and side walls.”
Esk kar struggled with the numbers for a moment. A quarter of his fighting men were dead or out of action, and most of the casualties came from the towers and the gate. More than a hundred precious archers it had taken months to train. Now the defenses would be stretched thin.
“They won’t be back today, I’m sure of that. How many did we kill? Do you have the count?”
“No, not yet. The ditch men are still doing their work. Jalen will send word when they’ve finished the counting.”
“The ladders have already been picked up and the ram will soon be chopped into firewood, Captain,” Corio added. “It will take them time to fi nd wood and make new ladders. The gate is in good condition. The fi res didn’t burn long enough to damage anything, and the ram made only a few cracks. We’re nailing new wood over the damaged places. It should be completed before nightfall.”
Esk kar nodded in satisfaction. “Good, Corio, your gate did well.” A horse galloped up and a grinning clerk from Nicar’s staff flung himself from the horse’s back outside the gate and then rushed over to the table.
“Captain, I bring word from Jalen. We’ve counted the barbarian dead.”
The messenger paused dramatically before imparting his news. “Three hundred and thirty - two dead, Captain. That includes those killed in the morning,” he added, then remembered the rest of his report. “Jalen is collecting the weapons and arrows, and he went over the wall to fire the carts they left behind.”
“Ishtar!” Gatus smacked his fist on the table. “The fool will get himself killed over a few wagons.”
The clerk looked around nervously. “The archers are protecting them and …”
“That’s enough, boy,” Esk kar said. Too late now to order Jalen back inside. By the time someone reached the gate, he’d either be finished with his burning or dead. “Anything else?” When nothing new was offered, Eskkar thanked the clerk and sent him back to his duties.
“Well, Gatus, the barbarians were fools to leave those carts behind. It will be good to burn them. Nevertheless, if we can count three hundred dead, then there are probably another hundred wounded. This is a terrible defeat for them. They’ve lost many men, including some of their best archers.”
“What will come next?” Nicar asked. “Will they come again?”
“Oh, yes, but not until they have a new plan. They’ve learned their lesson today and they won’t try to match bows with us again. Not like that at any rate. And today they learned we won’t collapse in fear at the sight of them.”
Esk kar took a deep breath. “If they come at the gate again, they’ll be better prepared. They might have taken the gate today if they’d been more organized. They were slow bringing up their reinforcements.”
Even the mighty Alur Meriki could blunder in the heat of battle, Eskkar realized. But they wouldn’t make that mistake again. His eyes met Nicar’s again. “Or maybe they’ll come at night.” Nicar looked uncomfortable, and that reminded him.
“Did we find those men who left their posts?” Esk kar looked at Gatus.
“Where are they?”
Gatus and Nicar exchanged a look before the old soldier replied.
“There are thirty men outside in the street,” Gatus said calmly. “Four men were in charge of them. Three have been found and they’re outside as well. We’re still searching for the fourth man.” Gatus leaned back and looked at Nicar.
“Captain, they just did as their leaders did,” Nicar said defensively.
“Most are good men and shouldn’t be punished for their leaders’ failures.”
A silence fell over the table, though the moans of the injured and the voices of those tending them continued. Esk kar paused for a moment, trying to get his temper under control.
“Those men were supposed to bring stones to the gate. The reserve force was called up. Bantor, Maldar, and Sisuthros were wounded.” He looked around the table. “If the fight on the north wall had lasted any longer, the gate would have been taken and the village lost. And now one of those who ran is hiding from us!”
Esk kar closed his fist and tapped it gently on the table. “I should kill them all, all thirty of them. Perhaps Bantor and the others would not be lying wounded if these villagers had stayed at their posts.” No one met his gaze. “I’d kill every one of them, if I might not need them tomorrow.”
He let his fist open.
“The four leaders are to die and their goods confiscated, to be distributed with any other loot taken. The others will be assigned duties of greater danger. If they falter, the soldiers are to kill them instantly.
What they did and why they’re being punished is to be explained to every man in Orak, so that everyone understands what will happen if they run again.”
Nicar swallowed nervously but kept silent. The look on Esk kar’s face was plain to all. No entreaty would change his mind.
Gatus turned to Nicar. “It’s better than they deserve. The villagers must see that their leaders are willing to fight for them.” He looked back at Esk kar. “We’ll find the fourth man soon enough. How do you want them to die?”
Esk kar wanted them tortured over the fire, but knew he couldn’t order that.
“Just kill them, Gatus, as soon as you find the last one, just kill them and make sure everyone knows why. Do it in the marketplace, with a sword thrust. It’s a better fate than the barbarians would have given them. Nicar and Rebba can handle the details.”
He put all thoughts of those men out of his mind. “Now let’s get ready for the next attack.”
Two miles away, a disgusted Thutmose - sin sat inside his tent, still thinking about the failed attack he witnessed earlier. The dirt - eaters had not quailed at the sight of his warriors. Instead they fought bravely, their cursed arrows wreaking havoc among his men. Their outcast leader had prepared his men well, training the cowards to fight with the bow while hiding behind their wall. And each time the Alur Meriki pressed the attack, this Esk kar had rallied his men.
Now Thutmose - sin had to deliver even more bad news to the council. Bar’rack had ridden into the camp an hour earlier, near exhaustion.
Bar’rack’s clan leader, Insak, heard the story first. Insak then gathered Altanar, the other clan leader who’d provided warriors for the raid across the river, and the three of them carried the evil tidings to Thutmose - sin.
Bar’rack again related what had happened on the other side of the Tigris. Thutmose - sin sat stone - faced as the tale unfolded. The news didn’t surprise him. He’d already assumed the riders were dead or scattered, otherwise they would have signaled days ago. It was one thing to be a day or two late in arriving, but it would be a foolish leader who disobeyed his sarrum’s orders for more than a week. When Bar’rack finished, Thutmose -