Eskkar and the others took their places around it. He gazed at the faces of his commanders. Only his most senior men, Hathor, Alexar, Drakis, and Mitrac, knew the true target of the campaign. The rest of Eskkar’s commanders present, Muta, Daro, Shappa, and Draelin, did not. Or at least, Eskkar hoped they still didn’t know.
Back in Akkad, only Trella and a handful of others knew the soldiers’ destination. Trella had gone to great lengths to keep their purpose secret. The fewer who knew the truth, the better. Even so, all these men had their wits about them, and any of them might have figured out their real enemy.
“It’s time to tell all of you who we’re going to fight,” Eskkar began. “You can forget the rumors and wild guesses. We’ve assembled this force to march against the Alur Meriki.”
Broad smiles greeted his words from those who knew or had guessed right, while a gasp of surprise escaped from those who’d guessed wrong.
“For almost two years, Trella and Annok-sur’s agents have collected information about the Alur Meriki Clan, and the route of their migration. Ten months ago, we learned that the barbarians had started their return from the northeast, hugging the foothills of the mountains. The Clan had traveled nearly to the Indus before they swung north, and some of our spies claimed the barbarians had been pushed back by those dwelling in that distant land.”
And that had made more sense as soon Bracca delivered his warning about the Elamites. Of course they would be eager to get rid of a large, hostile force on their northern frontier.
“Now the Alur Meriki are moving back toward these lands,” Eskkar continued. “They’re not foolish enough to ride through Akkad’s countryside, so they’ll stay close to the mountains. Far enough away to think they’re safe from our soldiers, but close enough to raid our outlying settlements. But this time we have a surprise for them. We’re going to cut across their route and force them to fight, at a time and place of our choosing.”
He glanced around the circle of faces. Shappa and Draelin had their mouths open. Even Muta and Daro appeared concerned. Eskkar turned toward the youngest commander. Always start with the most junior of your men, Trella had advised. Let them offer their thoughts before the words of the more senior men tended to discourage such discourse.
“Well, Shappa, what do you think?”
When only in his fifteenth season, Shappa had led the newly formed troop of slingers against the Sumerian cavalry. He and his men, most even younger than himself, had managed to hold off a superior force long enough for Eskkar to charge to victory.
Now in his early twenties, Shappa’s slim build had changed little in those years, except that he cut his hair short to make himself appear older. Freckles and scars from the pox were sprinkled equally across his cheeks.
“How many fighters do they have?”
“Trella’s people estimate that Thutmose-sin, their clan leader, has between twelve hundred and fifteen hundred fighters available. When he includes the young boys and old men, Thutmose-sin can add another three or four hundred to that.”
Eskkar ignored the small signs of surprise that came from the men. The Alur Meriki were still considered to be the fiercest fighters in the land.
Shappa’s eyes widened. “How many men will we have to face them?”
“Only those here at Aratta,” Eskkar replied. “It was necessary to assemble this force in secret. The Alur Meriki have their own spies, and of late they’ve gotten into the habit of dealing with traders and others who can supply weapons and goods as well as information. That’s why this ‘training mission’ was scarcely mentioned. Except for those here, and a few back in Akkad, none are aware of the real plan.”
Eskkar turned to Daro, who had commanded the river archers during the battle against Sumer. “And what do you think of all this?”
“So we’ll be outnumbered?” Daro kept his voice confident, though he had only twenty-four seasons. Long brown hair reached nearly to his shoulders. Tall and with the deep chest and muscled arms needed to work the long bow, Daro had married Ismenne, the Map Maker, the woman whose skill had created the map that now rested at her husband’s feet.
“Oh, yes,” Eskkar said. “But to make up for that, we’ve picked a place for the battle that will be to our advantage. When the fighting begins, the Alur Meriki, their horses and herds, will be short of water, and weary from their climb into the foothills. The battleground we’ve chosen is at a small stream that flows out of the mountains. It had no name, but Hathor calls it Khenmet, the water that springs from the rock.”
He reached out and tapped the spot on the map with his finger. “If they want that water, they will have to come against us, or die of thirst. Meanwhile we’ll have plenty of food and water.”
“And that will make up for being outnumbered?” This time Daro let a hint of skepticism slip into his voice.
The smile left Eskkar’s face. Daro, too, knew how fierce their opponents were.
“It will have to,” Eskkar replied. “I want them to fight. If they thought they were at a complete disadvantage, they might retreat, or slip into the mountains. I want to make certain they give battle.” He turned to Alexar. “Has any word of our real plan spread through the ranks?”
“Not yet.” Alexar, only a few years younger than Eskkar, had risen to command all of Akkad’s infantry. He, too, possessed the deep chest and powerful arms of a bowman.
Alexar and the first troop had marched into Aratta more than thirty days ago, and he had made most of the preparations for the campaign, collecting the food and supplies needed. “I’ve been talking to the men every day. Most of them still think it’s just another damned training march. They’re sick of the hard training, and they’ve been cursing us all for the last ten days.” He chuckled. “I can’t wait to see their faces in the morning.”
Eskkar joined in the laughter that followed. “Good. Then we’ll spend one last day tomorrow training together for the encounter, then move out at dawn the day after. Once we start north, we’ll be committed to fighting the barbarians. Our plan,” Eskkar tapped again on the map, “is to use water to defeat the Alur Meriki.”
Eskkar hunched himself a little closer to the map. “At the battleground, the Khenmet flows directly out of the mountain, near the crest of the trail the Alur Meriki are using. It only flows on the surface for a few hundred paces before disappearing underground. It’s fordable even for the barbarians’ wagons, and it’s the only watering place within three or four days march. We will get to the stream first, and hold it against them.”
He drew his knife and used it to point out the landmarks, while every one of his commanders leaned forward to follow his movements. First their starting point at Aratta, then the trail they would follow along the base of the mountains, and finally the location of the stream. All in all, they would have to traverse almost one hundred and fifty miles, most of it over rough ground and uphill.
“With their wagons and herds,” Eskkar went on, “barbarians can’t move too fast. If they decide to turn around and go back, it will take them at least another four or five days to return to the last stream. By then more than half their people and most of their horses and herds will be dying from thirst. Their only other choice is to attack us, and drive us away from the stream.”
The discussion started, with those who’d been unaware of the plan asking most of the questions. Eskkar’s other commanders joined in, as each explained how their forces would be used, and how they would work in conjunction with the rest of the soldiers.
Outside, the shadows lengthened, making it hard to see the map. Eskkar called out to the guards, and they brought two torches, which they shoved into the earth. Questions were asked about tactics and the use of the infantry and cavalry. Dusk fell, and now the flickering torches provided the only light.