Authors: Sam Barone
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?”