Akkad’s cavalry crashed into the right rear of the Immortals. Driving their horses ever forward, they flung their lances into the tightly packed enemy. Then they slashed and cut at anything that moved, their targets always easy to spot by the red headscarf.
No matter how fierce the Immortals might be, mounted riders always possessed the advantage against sword-wielding infantry, especially men bunched together in a thick column. That dense formation, formidable in a forward assault, proved much weaker when attacked on its flank.
Behind the Akkadian spearmen, Mitrac’s bowmen and Muta’s dismounted archers ran forward. They launched arrows at any target they could find, aiming for faces, legs, even sword arms.
What remained of the center of the Elamite advance, demoralized by the stampede and now the incessant hail of stones from Shappa’s slingers, turned and ran. First the wild horses, followed by the charging horsemen, and finally the agile slingers proved too much for the already tired and thirsty enemy soldiers. Without any strong leaders to keep them moving forward, their flight to the rear soon turned into a rout.
The entire force of slingers now formed a thin line that stretched across the Pass. Eskkar had gambled that Modran would not waste any more of his troops trying to force their way through the boulders. That left the slingers free to abandon the cliff and rocks, and take a stand out in the open. The stones of Shappa’s men now kept the horses moving down the slope, and prevented the Elamites from mounting an effective attack.
Nevertheless, the battle remained in doubt. Muta’s attack had caught the Immortals by surprise, and now the elite Elamites desperately tried to regroup and face the danger that threatened them from front and flank. The din of the battle filled the Pass. Even the lone war cry of Garal of the Alur Meriki floated over the air, as Muta’s cavalry recklessly pushed the attack.
Eskkar’s horsemen, scarcely used in the first two battles, now took advantage of their opportunity. In their frenzy to strike at the Elamites, they inflicted heavy losses on the Immortals, disrupting their formation and weakening their resolve.
Less than a hundred paces from the attacking Akkadian horsemen, Lord Modran’s cavalry struggled to push their way through the crowd of their own retreating soldiers. If they could charge into Mitrac’s bowmen and attack Muta’s horse fighters, they would relieve the pressure on the Immortals.
Ignoring the confusion in the center of the Pass, Drakis’s infantry, after their first wild charge, continued moving forward. A relentless wall of spears, borne by shouting fighters, had stopped the vaunted Immortals from advancing, and began forcing them back.
General Martiya tried to rally the Immortals and the other troops still uncommitted to the battle. Waving his sword, he turned to face Modran’s commanders and signaled to those fresh troops in his rear. Martiya realized the critical point of the battle had arrived. If the Elamite cavalry could be brought into play, they could run down the Akkadian bowmen. Without the archers, the spearmen would not be strong enough to break the Immortals.
But Martiya’s efforts to order his reserves forward attracted the keen eyes of others. Mitrac saw the enemy commander waving his sword but looking to the rear. Halting his steps, Mitrac launched three arrows at the Elamite general, by now less than sixty paces away.
The first missed, but the second slammed into Martiya’s left shoulder, spun him around, and knocked him down. The third arrow flashed into the side of one of the Immortals, and he, too, dropped to his knees.
Lord Modran, at the head of the cavalry reserve, watched Martiya disappear from sight, probably trampled by his own soldiers. Modran cursed the filthy Akkadian bowmen, who targeted anyone who looked like a commander. Even so, the battlefield was opening up. His own cowardly men, in their flight to the rear, had momentarily blocked his cavalry from advancing.
But now a gap appeared. Despite his infantry losses, Modran could drive his horsemen into the disintegrating center. In moments his cavalry could be behind Eskkar’s line of infantry.
Raising his voice, Modran waved his sword over his head. The time to counterattack had come.
Suddenly a fresh hail of stones, flung by Eskkar’s slingers, slammed into the closest of Modran’s cavalry. One horse, struck in the forehead, went mad with pain, biting and kicking at anything within reach. Modran saw that the slingers, after helping rout the Elamite infantry, had now turned their attention to Modran’s cavalry. They shifted their line and hurled stone after stone high in the air, targeting his horsemen. The hail of bronze bullets unnerved his men and their horses even more than a flight of arrows.
Nevertheless, many rallied to Modran’s side. Ignoring the stones, the riders urged their horses forward, trampling on some of their own infantry in the process.
Garal had not followed Muta and his horsemen in their attack on the Immortals. Instead he kept his horse just behind Mitrac’s archers. Garal had his own orders, to target the Elamite leaders. Voicing his war cry again and again, Garal continued loosing shafts at every enemy commander he could find. Now he observed the movement of men and horses beside Modran’s standard.
So far in the brief encounter, the Ur Nammu Master Archer had already emptied one quiver. Guiding his horse with his knees, he loosed five arrows at Modran’s commanders. The shafts struck two guards and one of the horses. A gap opened in the screen of men protecting Lord Modran. But before Garal could loose a shaft at Lord Modran, his horse stumbled and went down, tumbling the Ur Nammu warrior to the ground.
But Hamati, one of Mitrac’s skilled bowmen, still led the remnants of those assigned to kill enemy leaders, and now he reached the same spot where Garal had fallen. Hamati had run farther down the slope than any of the archers, following after the horses. He had already killed two commanders himself, and his bowmen had accounted for another handful. Only four of his men remained, however. But then Hamati saw who Garal had been targeting — the flashing sword of yet another Elamite leader, and the enemy cavalry getting ready to launch their attack.
“There, behind the Immortals,” Hamati shouted, pointing with his bow at the man with the sword. “Take him!”
Without another word, the five of them drew their bows and launched a small flight of arrows at the cluster of mounted commanders, now just over eighty paces away. A long shot for most bowmen, but not for these Akkadian marksmen. Three shafts missed, but one struck the horse in the neck, and another lodged in the rider’s upper arm. The dying horse reared up in its frantic agony, pitching Lord Modran to the side.
Hamati’s men, still not sure if they’d finished off their target, shot another flight into the massed cavalry nearby, the missiles striking down a few more mounted men. Glancing around, Hamati could see no other enemy leaders worth targeting.
“Just kill them all,” he shouted, his voice rising above the din. He snapped a shaft to the bowstring and loosed another missile. “Akkad! Akkad!”
Another steppes war cry echoed between the cliffs and over the battle ground. Eskkar had reverted to the war cry of his youth. Urging A-tuku forward, Eskkar led his bodyguards and twenty of Muta’s cavalry into the center of the enemy, this blow also aimed at the rear of the Immortals. He’d seen Modran’s standard, and Eskkar hurled his small force directly at the enemy leader. If he could kill the Elamite general, the enemy attack would collapse.
But first Eskkar had to get past part of the Immortals. Many of them had started to fall back, unnerved by the savagery of the Akkadian counterattack. They still fought tenaciously even as they retreated. He charged into the disorganized throng of the enemy, hacking left and right with the long sword. He’d killed three men before the crush of bodies slowed his horse almost to a standstill.