Garal, with food and water in front of him, nodded. “Yes, My Lord. But the Elamites will attack soon. The messengers we captured revealed that Modran has run low on both food and water.”
Eskkar glanced up at the night sky, full of stars. “We think they will come today, with the dawn. Modran cannot retreat without at least making one more effort to break our lines.”
Garal opened his mouth, then closed it again. No sense in asking whether King Eskkar thought he could repel the assault. There was only one answer to that question. “We have weakened his cavalry, and driven off many of his horses.”
“The loss of a few horses will not change Modran’s plans,” Eskkar said. “But you have done far more damage than you think. Your ride through their lines will have many of his men looking over their shoulders in tomorrow’s fight. And the stampede will have robbed them of much of their sleep this night. Before they can advance, they will have to round up those loose animals. The men who face us tomorrow will be tired from lack of sleep, and weakened by the doubt you have placed in their minds. That is worth much more than the horses they lost. The news you bring of Sargon and Subutai is most welcome. You and the warriors have struck a heavy blow against Lord Modran.”
Garal nodded, but Eskkar saw the disappointment on the young warrior’s face. “You have done a brave deed, Garal, braver than anything any warrior has ever done. More important, you have given us the will to fight. Now we know for certain that Modran’s supplies are exhausted, and that he will soon have to retreat. That knowledge will put bronze into the muscles of our spearmen and archers tomorrow.”
“My Lord, when you fought against the Sumerians at Isin, my father Chinua rode at your side and led the charge. If you would permit, I would like to fight by your side this day.”
“I would welcome the sword of a man as brave as yourself. But be aware, that the arrows will fly thick where I stand.”
“I will take my chance, as will your other soldiers.”
“Then you will have it. But it may be, Garal, that you can help far more by taking another task. Let me tell you what we’ve planned.”
When Garal learned about tomorrow’s battle plan, he nodded. “Yes, that will be as dangerous. I’m sure I can do more good with your horsemen than fighting at your side.”
Eskkar turned to Muta and Drakis. “Make sure Garal has a good supply of arrows and as much leather armor as he can carry. He’s going to need it.”
Chapter 39
General Martiya took his position alongside the Immortals, on their flank, about ten men behind their front line. He had taken command of Modran’s best troops, to make sure they punched through the Akkadians no matter what. Drawn up in a tightly-packed, solid column one hundred men wide and fifteen men deep, they would provide the hammer stroke against Eskkar’s right flank.
Each Immortal wore a leather helmet wrapped in a bright red cloth, and each fighter carried a sturdy shield that would stop most shafts from penetrating. The front three rows carried spears in addition to the sword each man wore at his waist. Today the spears served another function — to make sure the soldiers in front kept moving forward.
Positioned just ahead of the Immortals, another three thousand troops had massed. Their sloppy formations and nervous glances were all that could be expected from troops who knew they were being sent to the slaughter. Their purpose was to absorb the Akkadian arrows, shielding the Immortals until they’d drawn close enough to launch their charge. The Elamite front ranks knew the Immortals had orders to impale any man that faltered or tried to retreat.
Behind the Immortal column, Martiya saw almost thirty-six hundred cavalry poised to attack. Many of his horse fighters had fought dismounted and died in the second battle. With so many horses stolen or killed, less than half of the once vaunted Elamite cavalry remained.
Lord Modran had taken direct command of that force, and he would ensure that they were hurled into the battle at the right moment. The rest of the Elamite cavalry would fight on foot today, attacking the Akkadian center.
That would hold Eskkar’s troops in place, and prevent reinforcements being shifted to Eskkar’s right flank. Once Martiya and the Immortals had opened the tiniest gap in the Akkadian flank, Modran would drive his cavalry through the opening and into Eskkar’s rear. Then the slaying would begin.
Martiya knew Modran burned to take his revenge for the humiliation of the last five days. Both men dreaded what punishments King Shirudukh would inflict upon them after yet one more defeat. The sneers and contempt from General Jedidia and Grand Commander Chaiyanar would be almost as bad. The upcoming fight would be brutal, but if Martiya could lead even a handful of soldiers up to Akkad’s gates, Modran and he could claim a victory.
Eskkar, too, watched as the darkness gave way to gray, and soon the first rays of the sun sent gold and pink light into the sky, outlining the high peaks of the Dellen Pass. In moments, Eskkar saw the enemy positions, as dawn rose over the mountains.
Today he sat astride A-tuku, a sign to all his men that nothing would be held back. He’d chosen A-tuku to carry him into the battle, despite the risk to the animal. If Eskkar were killed during the fighting, he didn’t want A-tuku to fall into enemy hands, a humiliating trophy that the Elamites would flaunt throughout the land. Better that they should both die in combat.
Mounted, Eskkar could see all the way down the slope. For once, the Elamites stood in formation, ready to advance. By the time the attack began in earnest, the Akkadians would have the sun in their eyes.
As he stared at his enemies, a drum sounded from somewhere within their ranks, and Modran’s soldiers took that first step forward. Eskkar knew the Elamites were battle-weary and that they suffered from shortages of food and water. Would they fight harder because of that lack, or would they give way when the brutal fighting began?
In the Alur Meriki Clan, Eskkar knew older warriors sometimes led the way into battle, risking their lives in the front ranks to preserve the lives of the younger, more vigorous fighters. In such situations, the older men often fought harder, before their strength or resolve gave way to fatigue or doubt. In that way, the old gave their utmost to help the Clan, and if the gods decreed, died with honor.
Eskkar recognized that Modran had positioned a large force of men in front of the Immortals, to shield them as much as possible. That force, its lack of enthusiasm recognizable even from a distance, would be sacrificed to protect the precious Immortals.
Eskkar had managed to snatch a few moments of sleep during the night, not enough to refresh him, and he felt the tiredness in his bones. Approaching his fiftieth season, he’d grown far too old for a tough campaign such as this, let alone fighting in the front lines. Battle should be left to the young, those quick with a sword, insensible to fatigue, and strong enough to ride and fight all day.
But today, Eskkar felt the urge to strike his enemies with his own hands, the same eagerness that his men had displayed when they learned how this last battle would be fought.
His guards approached, and handed Eskkar his helmet and shield. Brown stain, applied last night, covered the bronze helmet and breastplate. The dark coloring would help him blend in with the leather armor of his men. His commanders had not wanted Eskkar to be the target of every Elamite bowman. Leather gauntlets protected both forearms. Despite his annoyance, he wore a stiff collar around his neck, to protect his throat from arrows.
Eskkar fastened the helmet on his head and accepted his bronze shield. He carried the long sword over his shoulder, but also wore his shorter blade belted to his left hip. Last, his bodyguards handed him a slim lance, its tip sharpened to an extra keen point.
Raising his hand to shade his eyes from the sun, Eskkar stared down the slope at the advancing Elamites. Today they had no boastful shouts, no loud war cries designed to frighten his men. They knew such efforts would be wasted, and it would be better to save their breath for the final run and savage fight.