“We could move all our men to Zanbil,” Jedidia said, “to get at the water. We’re going to need that stream no matter what. And there might be food there.”
Zathras snorted. “The barbarians have been here for what, four or five days? The cattle pen is empty. What they haven’t eaten has probably been dumped into the stream or burned. Besides, if we do that, the barbarians will escape to the north, if that’s their intention.”
Jedidia glanced toward Zanbil. Three thin plumes of gray smoke still drifted into the air. Zathras was right. The Alur Meriki had received plenty of warning of his approach. They wouldn’t have left anything useful in the village. Nonetheless, after Jedidia’s failure in the Jkarian Pass, even a victory over these barbarians might soften the blow that was sure to come from King Shirudukh.
A ragged shout from the barbarians echoed off the mountains. A small band of riders, less than twenty, had emerged from the mouth of the Pass. Running their horses flat out, they turned off the trail to Zanbil, and instead followed the crest line to rejoin their companions.
“Do you think there are any more of them coming out of the Pass?”
Jedidia kept his gaze on the Alur Meriki. The newcomers had raced to the center of the barbarian position, and now were in an animated discussion with what must be their leaders.
Suddenly a huge cheer went up from their ranks, starting at the center and extending to the wings. Warriors waved bows, lances, and swords in the air. The undulating battle cry of the barbarians floated over the empty land between the two forces. The barbaric celebration continued for a long time, the noise grating on his nerves even at this distance.
Zathras swore at the sound. “What are they celebrating?”
Jedidia could guess the answer to that question. The riders had come from the Pass, riding at top speed. No doubt they brought a report of some victory over Lord Modran’s men. And if Modran’s army had suffered a defeat, or even been driven back, then Jedidia’s situation had changed.
What a few days ago might have seemed a major disaster to King Shirudukh’s invasion plans now might pale in comparison to Lord Modran’s failure. Jedidia’s mind raced, as he considered the implications.
The silence dragged on, but Zathras knew better than to interrupt his commander’s thoughts.
“Get the men moving,” Jedidia ordered at last.
“Are we going to attack?”
“No, we’re moving our men to Zanbil. We’ll make camp there until we learn what has happened to Modran’s army. If the news is what I think it is, Modran is in trouble.”
“What about the barbarians?”
“If they come off the hill to attack us in Zanbil, we’ll cut them down. Otherwise they can burn farms and villages from one end of Elam to the other for all I care. We’re going to need every single one of our men. With luck, we’ll soon be riding for Sushan.”
“Then we’re giving up on joining with Modran’s army and riding toward Akkad?”
“Oh, yes.” Jedidia laughed, a grim sound with little mirth. “Modran got the army and the target he wanted. If he couldn’t handle it, that’s his problem. I have a much better, and closer, goal. Now, let’s ride for Zanbil, before those barbarians change their minds and decide to attack us here. Now start the men moving!”
Two days later, one of Jedidia’s scouts found his commander sitting under an awning attached to one of the two remaining huts still standing in Zanbil. The man reported that a small troop of horsemen, riding slowly, was coming through the Pass. Jedidia summoned Zathras, and they again went over the plan they had put together the day before.
“Make sure they’re the men we selected,” Jedidia ordered. He and Zathras had picked the forty men themselves. They chose only tough, hardened men who would fight anyone for a few extra coins, and who would follow orders without question.
“What if Lord Modran is not with these men?”
“Then we’ll see what they have to say. But if there’s been a defeat, I know the man well enough. Modran will be the first one out of the Pass,” Jedidia said. “He’ll want to get back to Sushan and the King’s ear before anyone else, to sweeten his side of the tale. And Zathras, take down my standard. I want my being here to be a little surprise for Modran.”
Jedidia’s men always set his standard, a long red and black streamer, into the ground wherever their General set up his command.
Jedidia went into the hut, the largest one in Zanbil, that he had taken for his use. He belted on his sword, and made sure his sandals were tightly laced. Then he ordered his warhorse brought up.
When he stepped outside, he saw that the horsemen had come into view from the mouth of the Pass. Jedidia counted them as they came down the trail. By the time the last had left the opening, their leader was halfway to Zanbil. Less than sixty men rode behind him, slowly pacing their horses.
Jedidia recognized the subtle signs of defeated men. No victorious soldiers, no matter how weary, rode with their heads down and shoulders slumped. Clearly, these men had fought and lost a battle somewhere inside the Dellen Pass.
Jedidia personal guards numbered twenty. He ordered half of them into his hut, and scattered the other ten near the stream, only a few paces away. The second hut concealed another twenty picked men armed with bows. He spent a few quick moments with his commanders, making sure they understood what to do.
When Jedidia felt certain they were ready, he glanced once again toward the approaching horsemen. One look was enough to recognize Lord Modran’s tall figure leading the way.
“Stay alert, and ready your weapons.” Jedidia checked his sword as well, making sure it slid easily in its scabbard.
He left the hidden bowmen, swung up onto his horse, and waited. The palm of his right hand felt moist, and he rubbed it against his tunic. The years of humiliation, of putting up with Modran, were coming to an end. Now Jedidia would gamble his life and his fortune for the ultimate prize.
“You! What are you doing here?” Modran’s bellow rang out the moment he recognized Jedidia, though he was still almost seventy paces away.
Jedidia had no intention of entering into a shouting match. He waited until Modran drew close enough for Jedidia to see the vein throbbing on the man’s forehead, and the bloodstained bandage on his right arm.
“Welcome, Lord Modran.” He kept his voice affable. “Did your battle in the Pass go well?”
Jedidia already knew the answer to that question. Before the Alur Meriki departed, they left one of their Elamite prisoners, minus his thumbs, to carry a message.
And so Jedidia learned that Modran’s forces had been stopped by Eskkar’s soldiers in the Pass, and that the barbarians even had the gall to raid Modran’s rear guard and steal hundreds of horses. They had also found time to loot his supply tents, inflicting yet one more hard blow against Modran’s men.
“That demon Eskkar, curse his name, and his bowmen blocked the Pass. We fought for five days, but couldn’t break through.” He scowled at Jedidia. “Why are you here? You should be riding to Akkad, damn you to the pits. You should have been behind Eskkar, cutting his supply line, and attacking his rear! Without him being resupplied, I would have destroyed him!”
Jedidia lifted his hands and let them drop. “An earthquake blocked the Jkarian Pass, so we had to turn back.”
“Where are your men?” Modran moved closer and practically screamed the words in Jedidia’s face.
“Most of them are riding patrols. A horde of barbarians attacked Zanbil, and they’re still nearby. But don’t worry, you’ll be safe here.”
In his anger, Modran had pushed his horse almost alongside Jedidia’s. “You will place yourself under my command,” Modran cried, spittle flying from his mouth. “You and your men will obey my. .”
Jedidia jerked his sword from its scabbard, even as he kicked his horse forward, bringing him even closer, close enough to run the sharp blade, driven with all of Jedidia’s strength, through Modran’s chest. His eyes went wide in surprise at the unexpected and swift thrust, and Modran never even got his hand on his sword.