The Akkadian bowstrings slapped against the leather arm protectors, as almost ninety shafts flew into the air, aiming for a point about eighty paces on the far side of the stream. They flew high, then arched down, arriving just as the front line of warriors reached the same patch of ground.
Hathor saw a few riders go down, but only a few. The first of the barbarian arrows landed, taking their toll on the Akkadians. Draelin kept shouting orders, but the men had little need for direction. They whipped shaft to string, bent the bow to their ears, and let fly with a speed that the barbarians, trying to shoot from the back of a moving horse, couldn’t match. Hathor guessed his men were loosing at least three shafts for every two from the Alur Meriki.
By now the Akkadian shafts were held level with the ground. The barbarians, with several gaps in their line, reached the stream with a rush. Mounted, they presented a large target for every Akkadian archer, as a strike to the horse was almost as effective as a killing shaft in a man’s chest. Both usually brought the rider down, possibly to be trampled by those behind him, or just stunned by the hard ground.
A huge water spray flew up into the air, as the galloping horses plunged into the stream. For a moment the flying water almost hid the enemy horses as if behind a protective curtain. The Akkadians never ceased loosing their arrows. Hathor heard the scream of animals in pain, and the shouts and war cries of the enemy, but the quick flowing water slowed the horsemen despite their best efforts to urge their animals across.
Horses staggered and plunged to their knees. A few crashed sideways into the water, the impact of their bodies knocking more spray into the air. Others rose up on hind legs, whinnying in pain. Barbarian riders, dead or wounded, splashed into the water.
Other riders could not control their wounded mounts. Many horses lost their footing on the wet and treacherous rocks that formed the bed of the stream, and tossed their riders into the cold water. By now every Akkadian had emptied one quiver and started on the second.
The charge faltered, then stopped in midstream. To continue forward invited a handful of arrows in the chest. The chaos in the water turned it into a killing zone.
For a few moments, the attackers struggled to hold their position, exchanging shafts with the Akkadians, but in the stream, the horsemen couldn’t guide their horses and shoot at the same time. The moment any rider urged his horse forward, arrows hummed through the air to strike at man and beast. Soon wounded or daunted riders whirled their mounts around, scrambling back toward the bank, desperate to escape the deadly flights of arrows launched at them from close range.
Hathor noticed one rider in the second rank, waving his sword and urging his men onward. Hathor stepped back, extended his right arm to the rear, and with a single long stride hurled the lance toward the middle of the stream, giving it just enough arc to clear the first rank of enemy fighters.
The lance struck the rider’s mount at the base of the neck, and the animal screamed in pain at the death blow. The beast stumbled and staggered to its knees, and the rider disappeared into the frothing water. The killing shafts continued to fly. The rest of the attackers turned back, hanging low over the necks of their horses as they fled for the safety of the far side of the stream.
Many warriors had lost their mounts. Now they scrambled on foot, stumbling over the loose stones that bordered the bank. Hathor saw a good number of those running had taken wounds, Akkadian shafts protruding from arms and legs.
Hathor shifted his attention to Draelin. Only on the southern part of the stream, away from the Akkadian position, had a number of the barbarians managed to cross. A few of them still exchanged arrows with the Akkadians. As more of Draelin’s men turned to meet this threat, and with the main force stopped by the water, those barbarian warriors soon whirled their horses and raced back across the stream.
The Akkadians jeered them on, and laughter rose up at their frantic retreat.
“Keep shooting, damn you!” Draelin’s bellow rose up over the excited shouts of his men.
Hathor strode over to his second in command, still launching shaft after shaft at the fleeing warriors. Only when his arrows could no long reach the retreating barbarians did Draelin halt his efforts.
“Well done, Draelin.” Hathor clapped him on the back. He raised his voice and made sure every man in his command could hear. “Well done, Akkadians!”
A ragged cheer answered. Draelin could only nod, his chest rising and falling as he gulped air into his chest.
Both men glanced around. Now it was time to take stock of their own losses.
“I doubt they will be back any time soon,” Hathor said, “but make sure the men are ready.”
“Recover your arrows!” Draelin bellowed the order, and the cry went up and down the line, as the Akkadians surged into the water, looking for the dead and wounded, to pluck the shafts from their bodies. The barbarian arrows, too, would be scooped up and used against their former owners.
Afterwards, while Draelin regrouped his men, Hathor inspected the little encampment. He paced up and down the line, praising the men and their efforts, all the while counting the dead and wounded. The barbarians had inflicted plenty of damage, though not as great as he had expected. Nine men lay dead or dying, and another sixteen had taken wounds.
All the injured were carried to the space just outside the gully that sheltered the men’s mounts. Those who could would relieve the ten able bodied soldiers who’d tended the horses. The dead bodies were carried to the rear, to be buried later, when time and events permitted.
A quick check of the horses revealed that only three had been struck by arrows. One of the handlers had taken a shaft in his arm. The horses remained skittish, pawing the ground or whinnying nervously. The scent of blood hanging in the air and the excited chatter of the men kept them from calming down.
The barbarians had fared much worse. Hathor’s soldiers were already across the stream, many for the second time, collecting weapons and loot, and killing any wounded barbarians still alive. Two men, on Draelin’s orders, took a count of the enemy dead.
The Akkadians didn’t remain on the far bank long. Soon arrows arced down toward them, as angry Alur Meriki fighters let fly from the base of the hill. But almost all the shafts fell short, the distance too far for the small size bows. The laughing soldiers splashed their way back across the stream, all of them clutching their new possessions.
When Draelin trotted over to where Hathor stood, he had a grin on his face. “Thirty four dead, and maybe another ten or fifteen washed down the stream. Plus about forty horses. They’ll think twice before they try that again.”
“Probably another thirty wounded, maybe more.” Hathor had fought in many battles. Usually the number of dead equaled the number of wounded. Ninety Akkadian archers had loosed at least one quiver, twenty shafts, into the enemy’s ranks. The more proficient archers had shot another five or six. All together, at least two hundred and fifty arrows had struck the mass of barbarian warriors.
The smaller shafts might not be as deadly, but a wounded enemy was not likely to be back in action any time soon. A fighter weakened by loss of blood, or in too much pain to control his horse, tended to be less effective. Dead or wounded, the Akkadians had taken a lot of the barbarians out of the fight. And while the loss of so many horses might not mean much to the barbarians with their large herds, those mounts would still need to be replaced.
“I’ve ordered the men to distribute all the remaining arrows equally. We may need every shaft.” Draelin gestured toward the still celebrating fighters. “Then I’ll put them back to work carrying rocks. That should calm them down.”
Hathor laughed. The men would be swearing at him soon enough. He glanced around and lowered his voice. “If Eskkar and the rest of the men don’t get here before the full horde of the barbarians arrive, we’ll need more than rocks and arrows.”