Swords clashed. Drakis, the fighting madness still on him, screamed Eskkar’s name with all his might, swinging his sword as he struck back at his attacker, mixing thrust and cut with a savagery that put fear into his opponent’s heart. His opponent broke off and ran. Another lay dead or dying, and the last attacker turned and fled into the darkness.
Drakis didn’t even pause for breath. Sword in hand, he lowered his back against the wagon and pushed with his legs. His heels dug deep ruts into the dirt, and he slipped again and again, but at least he could watch their rear.
It took a long moment to get the wagon moving again, and now they had to guide it slightly to the left, in order to point it toward the tower’s opening. The wagon slowed even more as it turned. Suddenly it began to move faster, and Drakis realized two more archers had come from the tower and started pulling on the left front wheel, helping the unwieldy wagon along and guiding it straight at the tower’s entrance.
That made them easy targets. The front of the wagon stood exposed not only to Korthac’s bowmen in the other tower, but to those men Drakis saw assembling on the other side of the square. He heard an arrow glance off the base of the tower, then felt two more shafts strike into the wagon itself.
Then the wagon wheezed past the opening. “Everyone inside!” Drakis followed them in, his legs trembling so much from the exertions that he stumbled and nearly fell. The fighting and the heavy wagon had drained his strength, and he needed a moment to catch his breath. He heard Enkidu giving orders, so he just watched for a moment.
His second in command had six men struggling with the wagon, this time using their efforts to tug one of its great wooden wheels into the doorway. One man crawled under the wagon and back out into the lane, then swung himself up and into the wagon’s bed. Drakis had expected the cart to be empty, but now he saw two thick stakes stored there, no doubt used to lever the wagon out of mud or soft sand. The quick-thinking soldier handed them down to Enkidu, arrows whistling about him, before diving headfi rst back into the tower. The two lengths of wood, as tall as a man, would help jam the wagon against the wall.
Drakis leaned against the doorway. The wagon blocked the entrance and provided a shield wall to protect his archers. His men could defend the tower for now, at least. He dragged more air into his lungs. “Ready your bowmen, Enkidu,” Drakis said. Unlike the rabble he’d caught by surprise and driven from this tower, Drakis knew he’d next be facing disciplined Egyptian fighters, and that real fighting had just begun. “They’ll be coming for us soon.”
Unlike the rest of the alehouse patrons, En-hedu awoke well before the dawn, the habit acquired since she’d first started watching Korthac’s house. Since the Egyptian had left that house behind the day he took power, En-hedu had given up selling her wares. The need to watch Korthac had passed; he ruled here now, at least until Eskkar returned. Until then, Tammuz and she waited, glad for the first time that almost no one knew of his real activities.
Nevertheless, the habit of early rising remained, though now she used the brief interval for another purpose. En-hedu turned on her side, facing Tammuz, who still slept soundly. She couldn’t get out of the bed without crawling over him, so she decided to wake him. That had become a new experience for her. Not waking a man, she’d done that often enough for her former master. Waking Tammuz, in the last few weeks, had become a pleasure instead of the start of a day’s new degradations.
She moved closer to him, raising herself on one elbow and letting her breast fall upon his bare chest. He stirred, but didn’t wake, so she reached between his legs and began stroking him. Still asleep, in moments he grew hard, and when she grasped his rising manhood he moaned in pleasure.
“Wake up, master,” she said, whispering the words into his ear. “It’s almost dawn.”
Startled, he lifted his head, but her hand, still holding him fast, kept him from rising.
“What… En-hedu…” He sighed in contentment and let his head fall back on the bed.
She tightened her grip, and began moving her hand up and down.
Since she’d saved his life that day when Korthac took over, her feelings for him had changed, grown even deeper and stronger. Now she wanted to please him, care for him, keep him as close as possible. She still felt the wonder at his gentleness, and she’d grown bolder and bolder each time they made love. Unlike her former master, Tammuz felt different, tasted different. What had been degrading before had turned into something as exciting as it was pleasurable.
After a few days of lovemaking, she found herself so moist that her juices ran down her thigh. Now she squeezed him again, then leaned over him, pushing the blanket away. She kissed his erection, brushing it with her lips before taking him in her mouth. The sounds he made when she did that always excited her, and she thrilled at her power over him, at his need for her touch and her body. This morning would be special, she decided, and she felt herself growing excited in anticipation.
Suddenly she stopped, and sat up in the bed. “What was that?”
“What? Nothing… nothing… don’t stop…”
“No, it’s something,” she insisted, letting go of Tammuz. “Men shouting…” The noise came again, louder this time.
Tammuz sat up, pushing the blanket to the floor, both of them now clearly hearing a clamor of men, followed by the blare of a distant trumpet sounding its alarm.
Overhead, they heard Gatus moving about, and knew he’d heard the same sounds. Tammuz swung his legs down and moved away from the bed.
“Gatus,” he called out softly toward the loft, “what is it?”
She heard the ladder creak, then the stars disappeared as the soldier’s bulk blocked the opening for a moment, before Gatus descended the ladder into their room.
“Fighting,” Gatus said, as he stepped from the fi nal rung. “Men fi ghting near the barracks. I heard some calling Eskkar’s name.”
That name had not been spoken aloud in days, not since Korthac’s bloody edict.
By the time Gatus reached their midst, En-hedu had risen from the bed. Fumbling in the darkness, she found the knife Tammuz had given her.
The thin copper blade, sheathed in soft leather, fitted to a belt she fastened around her body, just under her breasts. Then she pulled her dress over her head. If she walked with her arms crossed, the knife was well concealed.
“Can he have returned so soon?” Tammuz asked, slipping on his tunic and taking up his own blade.
Gatus laughed as he bent down and fastened his sandals. “Eskkar knows how to move fast when he has to. No one else could rouse these cowards. He must have been on his way here when word reached him.”
“Korthac has men watching the roads,” En-hedu said. “They would have sent warning.”
“Eskkar could have slipped by them,” Gatus grunted. “He knows the countryside better than anyone… as long as he’s here, it doesn’t matter how. It’s time to fight. I’m heading toward the barracks. You two stay here.”
He opened the door to the common room and moved rapidly to the alehouse entrance.
“Not likely,” Tammuz said behind the old soldier’s back, already lacing on his own sandals.
En-hedu helped Tammuz fasten his belt around his waist. By the time Tammuz and En-hedu left their room, half the sleepers had departed, awakened by the steadily rising sounds of battle that nearly masked the shouts of Eskkar’s name. Only the drunks remained, still in their stupor from too much ale. Outside, several of Tammuz’s customers stood beside the alehouse door, asking each other what all the commotion was about and talking excitedly to anyone who would listen.
“Where shall we go?” En-hedu brushed against Tammuz as they stood in the doorway.
“To Trella’s house. We may be of some help there. You should stay
…”
“I’m going with you,” En-hedu said. She knew Tammuz didn’t want her to come, but they’d already discussed that before. Wherever he went, she was determined to be at his side. Without another word, she pushed past him and began walking down the lane, heading toward Lady Trella’s house.
“Any of you rogues want to fight, follow me,” Tammuz called out over his shoulder, as he followed after his woman.
Dawn would be upon them soon, En-hedu realized, looking at the fading stars overhead. All around them she heard the sounds of people jabbering to each other, asking what was happening, what they should do.
Over all the noise, they heard the sound of people cheering and shouting Eskkar’s name, and the occasional clash of weapons.
Tammuz caught up with En-hedu, taking the lead and weaving his way through the growing crowd. Three of Korthac’s men burst out of an alehouse in front of them, and stumbled down the lane, heading in the same direction. The lane soon crossed another, and the first man turned left, toward the barracks. To the right lay the way to Eskkar’s house.
She watched in horror as Tammuz put on a burst of speed, overtook the last of the three, and plunged his knife into the man’s back. Without pausing, Tammuz turned to the right, leaving the wounded man stumbling along for a few paces before he fell to the earth, crying out in pain. His two companions, disappearing into the darkness, never even noticed.
En-hedu ran as fast as she could, and managed to keep on Tammuz’s heels. Together they turned into the lane, to see Eskkar’s house just ahead.
Tammuz stopped suddenly. The street was filled with Korthac’s men, most of them Egyptians, roused from the nearby houses where they’d been housed. She watched them rush into Eskkar’s courtyard, and the sounds of fighting and men shouting rang out over the walls.
She caught Tammuz by the arm and held him with all her strength.
“You can’t. There are too many of them.” She felt frightened that he would rush headlong against them, his knife useless against so many swords.
“I see them,” he said with a curse. “Let’s go back.”
They turned and retraced their steps down the lane, away from the house. Overhead, the stars were winking out, as the first rays of true dawn began to break above them. Men milled about, and she saw two more of the invaders, swords in their hands, pushing their way through the crowd, heading toward Eskkar’s.
“Stay behind me,” Tammuz ordered.
En-hedu reached inside her dress, pulled the knife from its scabbard, and held it against her thigh. She felt her heart beating wildly against her ribs.
Tammuz shrank against the wall as the first of Korthac’s men ran past, but pushed himself out into the lane, into the second man’s path. Before the cursing Egyptian could shove Tammuz aside or raise his sword, Tammuz’s knife flashed upward into the man’s stomach, penetrating just under the rib cage. The man grunted, as much in surprise as pain at the unexpected blow. Before the man slid to the ground, Tammuz had already slipped beyond him, rushing down the lane, En-hedu at his side, looking back over her shoulder to make sure no one followed.
They found an open doorway and stepped within, watching the crowd move back and forth, everyone shouting and asking each other what to do.
Sounds of fighting increased, and En-hedu realized the noise was coming from several different directions.
Then she heard furious voices shouting in Egyptian, and she peered out to see a band of men moving down the lane, heading toward the gate.
She recognized Hathor’s voice rising above the din. The man’s speech seemed calm and controlled despite the chaos, as he gave orders and pushed the men along.
“Someone is ordering them toward the gate,” she said.
“There must be fighting there as well.” They crouched down as the force of invaders pushed by their doorway, breathing hard, cursing and yelling at each other. Before they could do anything, another half-dozen or so men ran past, following the first group and heading to the gate.
Tammuz pulled his hand free, and En-hedu knew what he planned.
When the last of Korthac’s men passed by, Tammuz slipped out behind the straggler, caught up with him in three strides, and struck him down.
With enough light to see now, and to her horror, she realized more foreigners were still coming. Tammuz saw the first one, who shouted out in Egyptian as he raised his sword and struck.
Tammuz ducked away from the blow, took another step back, and when the man moved toward him, raising his sword with a shout, Tammuz lunged forward with a blur of motion, extending his right arm and burying the knife into the man’s chest. The man cried out in pain, as the sword fell from his grasp, Tammuz’s knife striking true beneath the breastbone.
But the mortally wounded man collapsed forward, his momentum taking him into Tammuz, and knocking her master backward to the ground.
En-hedu heard the crunch as Tammuz’s head struck against the base of the wall as he landed, stunned, with the dead or dying man’s body nearly covering him.
Two more Egyptians ran up, one shouting something incomprehensible to the other. One swerved around his fallen comrades and kept going.
She saw Tammuz, dazed, trying to push the dead man off his chest with his one good hand. The second Egyptian raised his sword as Tammuz, still clutching his knife, struggled to free himself from beneath the body. The collision with the mud wall had stunned him, and the knife slipped from his trembling fingers.
En-hedu screamed as she jumped forward, raising her knife. The man saw her and dodged aside. He swung around, the sword cutting toward her head. She threw herself beneath it, rolling in the dirt and landing beside Tammuz, losing her grip on her own knife in the process. She twisted to her knees and threw herself across Tammuz, getting between him and the Egyptian. He would have to kill her first. She reached for the knife she’d dropped, but fumbled with the hilt, her eyes locked in horror on the man above her, watching as the sword swung down toward her head.