Sam Barone
Clash Of Empires
Prologue
3129 BC, the harbor of Sushan, in the Land of Elam. .
Daro leaned against the single mast of the Star of Sumer, his eyes scanning the dockside crowd and the broad pathway that led from the wharf to Sushan’s river gate, a few hundred paces away. He had finished stowing the last of the trade goods and supplies at first light, and since then, the ship stood ready to begin its passage home. Now Daro struggled to conceal his impatience while Yavtar, the Star’s owner, finished his dealings with the Dock Master.
The lazy official should have arrived at dawn, so the departing ships could get an early start on their journeys. Instead the sun had nearly cleared the horizon before the yawning Dock Master waddled to his station, unconcerned by the impatient mutterings of the three ship masters awaiting him, and all impatient to be on their way. Well before daybreak, Yavtar had claimed the head of the line, determined to get his ship out of the harbor as early as possible.
Daro ignored the cloudless blue sky overhead, the gentle rubbing of the boat against the roped stanchion, and the pleasant gurgle of the river. He kept his eyes on Master Trader Yavtar, who had almost concluded the seemingly endless and probably unnecessary haggling with the official. A sudden movement drew Daro’s gaze back toward the city’s walls. Six harbor guards jogged through the gate, heading straight for the dock.
Daro never hesitated. His single shout alerted Yavtar, who needed only one look to comprehend the danger. Leaving the confused Dock Master stammering in surprise, Yavtar darted across the dock, and leapt onto the Star. Not as agile as in his youth, Yavtar’s sandal snagged on the gunwale and he nearly fell into the harbor. But Daro caught the man’s arm and pulled Yavtar into the boat.
“Cast off! Get the boat moving!” Yavtar’s booming voice left no doubt about the urgency of the moment.
The eight crew members, already alerted to the possibility of a hurried departure, rushed into motion. Two men sprang onto the dock, cast off the fore and aft ropes that secured the Star, and then jumped nimbly back aboard. Daro and the others snatched up oars and pushed the ship away from the wharf. With Yavtar urging them on, the crew plunged their oars into the water, grunting under the effort to get the Star underway and into the Karum River.
They managed to get ten paces of water between the ship and the wharf before the harbor guards arrived. Daro, one of the few crew members fluent in the language of Elam, heard the guard’s commander bellow an order to stop and return the ship to the dock. Neither Daro nor Yavtar had any intention of complying. Both knew what fate awaited them onshore.
Fortunately, these guards had carried no bows, so they waved their swords and filled the air with curses and demands that the boat come back. Looking back toward the city’s walls, Daro saw the first of the city’s professional soldiers race into view. Six archers, alerted by the commotion, rushed toward the wharf.
By the time the bowmen reached the water’s edge and strung their weapons, the Star had caught the river’s current and dragged itself almost out of range. A few arrows sliced into the river, but only one lucky or well-aimed shaft managed to strike the side of the boat. A moment later the ship pulled out of reach.
As Daro watched the guards and dockside idlers milling about, he saw another troop of at least thirty soldiers pouring through the gate, all of them armed with swords and carrying bows in their hands. This latest contingent rushed onto the dock, knocking aside anyone in their path. In moments, they seized possession of the nearest ship.
The Star of Sumer rowed out to the center of the river, where the most favorable current flowed. Meanwhile, the Elamites climbed on board their commandeered vessel, a larger craft that displayed Sushan’s pennant at its mast head. With thirty or more men on board, they slipped loose the ropes holding the vessel to the dock.
In his twenty-eighth season, Daro had grown up around boats and sailed many a craft on the Tigris. He needed only a quick glance to know that the heavily laden ship could not catch the Star of Sumer, no matter how many oarsmen she carried. But almost as soon as the Elamite ship cleared the dock, the soldiers aboard started tossing whatever cargo the vessel carried over the side. Even before they finished heaving the trade goods overboard, Daro noticed the ship picked up speed. The chase had begun.
What should have been an easy run downstream for the Star of Sumer to the mouth of the Karum River had turned into a desperate race. Daro observed that the ship chasing them lacked the Star’s fast lines, but the leader of the soldiers who assumed command of the vessel had shown both quickness and skill in getting his boat moving. Nor had he evinced any compunction about dumping its goods into the river, even as the ship’s owner danced along the edge of the wharf, waving his arms in a rage.
Yavtar, at the tiller of his ship, also watched the bales and bundles splash into the river. He, too, understood what it meant. In moments the much lighter Elamite vessel, manned by a crew of well-armed men, straightened its course and now churned through the water in pursuit.
While the Star’s narrow hull and tight construction made it the swifter vessel, the far greater number of enemy oarsmen would likely compensate for the pursuing boat’s larger size and heavier weight.
“Damn every Elamite god!” Yavtar’s curse echoed over the water. “Daro, take three men and toss our cargo over the side. Make sure you don’t swamp the boat while you’re doing it. The rest of you bastards, row for your life!”
While aboard the Star, Daro functioned as First Mate, and he jumped to do Yavtar’s bidding. As soon as the last of their cargo splashed into the river, Daro returned to the stern of the boat, and stared at the vessel hunting them. “Can we keep ahead of them?”
Tight-lipped, Yavtar glanced over his shoulder. The Star, much lighter now, rode easily in the river’s current, and had opened the gap between ships to almost half a mile. “The Apikin handles like a pig. We’ll stay ahead of her for now. But they can rest half their rowers at a time. They may wear us out before we can reach the sea.”
Once they left the Karum River and entered the Great Sea, Daro knew the Star of Sumer would show her heels to the lumbering Elamite ship. He could also see that whoever commanded her knew his business and would reach the same conclusion. With the Apikin’s cargo gone, there was plenty of room for oarsmen, and Daro counted eight men on each side. Sixteen rowers against the eight men the Star possessed, and the Apikin probably contained another full bank of oarsmen ready to relieve the first batch.
“We can’t be taken alive.” Daro glanced down at the near-lifeless body at Yavtar’s feet, the man responsible for the vigorous pursuit by the soldiers on board the Apikin. The Star’s single passenger remained sprawled on the bottom of the craft, unconscious, asleep, or maybe dying. Last night, Daro had saved Sabatu’s life, rescuing him from the Elamite prison the night before Sabatu’s scheduled execution.
Dark bruises covered Sabatu’s battered body, interspersed with the bright red marks from the lash. Blood still oozed from some of the open sores. His torturers had broken both his thumbs, and the man’s right eye could scarcely be seen, a small slit in a swollen and inflamed face.
Sabatu’s ordeal extended far beyond his battered body. The six days of public torment in Sushan’s marketplace had included forcing him to watch as the members of his family were brutalized before his eyes, one each day, before being put to death. Wife, sister, brother, and his three young children, all had suffered greatly before dying.