Keeping his eyes on Korthac, he guided Trella back onto the bed, easing her down. She struggled to speak, but her body shook as much from the tears as from her wound. Blood flowed from an ugly cut above her hip, and he took her hand and pressed it against the wound.
“Keep your hand steady, Trella,” he said. “I’ll get help.”
Looking around the room, he saw the stool that normally sat before Trella’s dressing table. Knocked on its side, it lay against the wall.
He scooped it up, and keeping it on its side, lifted Korthac’s left foot and slid the stool underneath it. Then Eskkar raised his sandal and smashed it down on the man’s shin.
Eskkar grunted with satisfaction as he heard the bones break. “That’s for Trella and my child, Egyptian,” he said. For the first time, Eskkar felt certain Korthac wouldn’t be doing any more fighting tonight, even if he regained consciousness any time soon.
“Eskkar… Eskkar… is the child all right?”
He had to strain to make out the words, but he understood her up-lifted arm that pointed toward the still-wailing child. He realized she still held the small knife, covered with Korthac’s blood, in her hand. Taking it from her fingers, Eskkar dropped it next to her on the bed. His breathing slowed, and he started moving with more confidence. Eskkar stepped over to the cradle. He picked up his crying child, hands still clumsy with fatigue. Keeping Korthac’s knife in his hand, Eskkar carried the infant carefully to Trella.
“Stay here. Don’t try to move.” Looking down at her stomach and legs, he saw more blood, and fear went through him. “Are you wounded? Where else…”
“No, not wounded… the baby… your son… he came only a few hours ago… I was…”
She hadn’t realized that she had taken a cut across her hip from Korthac’s blade. Blood oozed from the cut, seeping between her fingers; but she kept her hand pressed tight against her side where he’d placed it.
She sounded weak, and the wound needed bandaging.
“Don’t get up,” he repeated. “I’ll be back.”
Korthac’s knife still clutched in his hand, he stepped into the workroom. The fl ame from the lamp in the outer room burned low and didn’t provide much light, but Eskkar picked it up and held it aloft. Only two bodies greeted his eyes. The dead Egyptian bodyguard lay where he’d fallen, but Annok-sur’s body had moved. She lay motionless, directly in front of the outer door, now shut and bolted. Ariamus had vanished.
Annok-sur must have closed and barred the door with the last of her strength before she passed out. Eskkar set the lamp down, retrieved his sword from the floor, and put it on the table.
Sounds of fighting came from beyond the door, and reminded him that he had left Grond and the others behind, and that he might not have much time. He lifted Annok-sur from the floor, and she groaned at his touch. As he carried her back to the bedroom, she started to struggle in his arms.
“Rest easy, Annok-sur. It’s Eskkar. Can you stand?”
“Yes, I think… yes.”
He felt her relax, saw her head start to sag. “Don’t faint yet,” he ordered, practically shouting the words into her face as he lowered her feet to the floor; he needed her conscious. Annok-sur nodded, and Eskkar set her down inside the bedroom and let her lean against the wall. “Bar the door and don’t open it. Bandage Trella’s wound, before she bleeds to death.”
Eskkar put Korthac’s knife in her hand, and watched her eyes narrow at the sight of the prone Egyptian. “No. Not until we’ve finished killing these vermin. Can you do that? Just watch Korthac. After you’ve tended to Trella, keep the knife at his throat. If he moves, or anyone tries to force the door, then kill him.”
He pulled the door shut behind him and scooped up his sword before crossing the outer room. Behind him, he heard Annok-sur drop the wooden bar into place. The women would be safe in there for now. Ariamus’s sword lay near the entrance. Annok-sur’s body had hidden it. He picked it up with his left hand and went to the door. Taking a deep breath, he lifted up the thick bar and yanked the door open.
Shouts and the twang of a bowstring sounded through the doorway, and the backs of Mitrac and another archer filled the opening. Both heads swiveled just long enough to see who stood behind them. He had to squeeze behind Mitrac to get out onto the landing. Dawn had arrived and light filtered through the open doorway and windows to illuminate the scene below.
The landing had barely enough space to hold the three of them. Mitrac stood beside Eskkar, bow drawn, blood pouring down his left arm.
Eskkar saw that only two arrows remained in his quiver. On the top steps two more archers crouched, extending swords that passed on either side of Grond’s body for protection; empty quivers on their belts explained the swords. His bodyguard wielded a sword and a spear, and kept at bay three or four rogues on the lower steps. Five or six more foes waited below, just inside the door to the courtyard, preparing for another rush. Bodies lay strewn about on the floor and steps, arrows protruding from most of them.
Eskkar took another quick look down as the others below looked up.
One of them called out something in Egyptian, but all Eskkar understood was Korthac’s name.
“Korthac is dead,” Eskkar snarled, putting all his rage into the words.
Everyone froze at the news. Eskkar raised his voice even louder and bellowed out his words, so that even those outside the house would hear them. “Korthac is dead!” Eskkar extended the long sword in his right hand, pointing at those beneath him, the blade stained with blood as if in proof.
Fury possessed him, the same emotion that had filled him as he fought against the Egyptian. “Korthac is dead, and now you will all die as well.”
Without any hesitation, he ducked underneath Mitrac’s arm and jumped off the landing, his feet aiming for a clear space directly under the stairs. Eskkar went to one knee from the jump, but he rose up swinging the big sword as the fi rst of Korthac’s men rushed toward him. Grond shouted a war cry and led the way down the steps, the others following.
With a weapon in each hand and the battle frenzy upon him, Eskkar attacked Korthac’s suddenly disheartened followers.
The long sword struck one man across the face, and Eskkar parried a counterstroke from another attacker with the short sword in his left hand, then struck again with his right, wielding the heavy blade with renewed energy. The unexpected counterattack unnerved the Egyptians, despite their greater numbers; two of them bolted for the open door, and the rest hesitated. Grond’s war cry boomed again within the room, and Eskkar heard the snap-hiss as the last of Mitrac’s arrows struck his target.
Within a dozen heartbeats, four men had died, and the rest of Korthac’s men fled into the courtyard, driven back by half their number. More men gathered there, getting ready to join the assault. Nevertheless, many heard Eskkar’s words and more than a few of Korthac’s men began repeating that Korthac was dead.
One of the Akkadians took advantage of the enemy’s confusion to slam the front door shut and drop the bar across it.
“The servants’ entrance… secure the door.” Grond gave the order, though his voice sounded weak.
Eskkar faced Grond and saw blood covering his bodyguard’s neck and chest; the man was swaying on his feet.
“Mitrac,” Eskkar said, “the other door… better see if it’s closed and barred.”
The master archer raced down the corridor to bar the second entrance, while the other two archers moved from body to body, wrenching arrows out of the dead to replenish their quivers. Eskkar put his arm around Grond’s waist and guided him toward the stairs. “Rest here a moment,” Eskkar ordered.
Taking a deep breath, Eskkar forced himself to control his shaking arms. He had only three men who could still fight. If the Egyptians forced the outer door, Eskkar could retreat to the upper rooms.
He took stock of the situation. He’d reached Trella, and both she and the baby were safe. And captured Korthac. They could hold the house for the moment. Now everything depended on Bantor and his men. If they failed, if they couldn’t come to Eskkar’s rescue in time, Eskkar planned to use Korthac to bargain his way out. If that didn’t work, if the Egyptians broke in, Eskkar would kill Trella and the child with his own hand, before falling on his sword. No matter what happened, he couldn’t let either of them fall into these foreigners’ hands alive.