He wondered about Eskkar. In the distance, he could hear the shouts and battle cries rising and falling, most of them coming from the direction of the barracks. Hopefully, Bantor and his men would be in the city. If things did not go well for Bantor, Drakis and his men would be trapped up here, cut off with no way to escape. He tightened his grip on his bow. He’d know about that soon enough. Right now there was nothing Drakis could do, except wait for the next attack.
Takany watched Ariamus and Hathor leave the courtyard, glad to be rid of both of them. If Ariamus survived this night, if Hathor didn’t kill the man, Takany vowed to kill both of them himself. Even if Hathor did kill Ariamus, Takany decided he wanted Hathor dead anyway. The man had questioned his decisions before, and now wanted to leave Korthac behind. Takany knew one thing. The gate must be defended. Without control of the gate, they couldn’t stop more troops from entering Akkad. This Eskkar might have hundreds of men out there, just waiting for the gate to open.
Shaking his head, he put both men out of his mind. Instead, he cursed the evil demons who’d attacked the house at night, catching everyone still asleep or lax at their posts. These Akkadians were too cowardly to challenge his men in daylight, when his men could slaughter them with ease.
Looking about, Takany found the last handful of men still gathering up weapons and lacing on sandals. To his satisfaction, with the number of men in the courtyard halved, the situation improved. The twenty or so fighters remaining knew their work. They’d recapture the house soon enough. Takany knew he had to move quickly, before something happened to Korthac, though in the back of his mind Takany started considering life without Korthac.
If these weaklings had killed Korthac, Takany would take charge of Akkad, and he swore a curse on the city’s inhabitants for this attack. He’d kill so many that none of them would ever dare rise from their knees again.
Leaving a handful of soldiers to guard the kitchen door and prevent any escape that way, Takany readied his men, moving those carrying shields to the forefront. Spearmen followed behind them, and six or seven archers would bring up the rear. Hathor had taken most of the bowmen with him. Bows wouldn’t be of much use inside the house.
“Once we start in,” Takany shouted, moving up and down in front of his men. “There must be no hesitation. Go straight up the landing and kill everyone in your path.” He took a deep breath, hefted his shield. “Now!”
Six men stood ready with the courtyard table. They’d positioned it a few paces from the door. Now they picked it up and charged the door, using it as a battering ram and smashing it against the door with all their strength. The heavy table, made of thick planks, split part of the doorway with the fi rst attempt. Takany heard men shouting behind the door. They knew what was coming.
“Good,” Takany yelled. “Hit it again.”
The men battered the door again, the sound of ripping wood adding to the din. The third time smashed the door open, snapping the bar that braced it, and knocking aside a table the defenders had shoved up against it.
Arrows flew through the splintered doorway. One of the men closest to the door sank to his knees, a shaft in his chest. The rest of Takany’s soldiers moved back.
“Shields, get those shields up front,” Takany shouted.
Other men moved forward, carrying shields and holding swords, ready to face the danger they knew lay within. A few carried the heavy Akkadian bows. Once inside, if they could get their weapons in play, they’d wreak havoc on any defenders trapped on the landing.
“Attack!”
The men surged forward, the human wedge knocking the last of the door from the frame as they rushed inside. Arrows struck down the first two men through the doorway, head shots that slowed the Egyptians only for a moment. They knew the fastest way to end the battle was to rush in and kill everyone, so the Egyptians ignored their losses.
Standing just outside, Takany made sure the last of his fighters had surged through the door before following him inside. Raising his shield, Takany followed his fighters in, shouting at them to push ahead. “Kill them all,” he roared, “get close and finish them.”
His men took up the cry, the fearful words echoing throughout the chamber. “Kill them all!”
Muttering a curse at Takany’s stupidity, Hathor stepped through the courtyard gate, pushing along the last straggler of those he’d ordered to the main gate. The fool had knelt in the dirt to fasten his sandal.
“Leave that, you ox,” Hathor ordered, shoving the man into a run. He’d sent ahead more than twenty-five men, more than enough to recapture the tower. Unlike Takany, Hathor had decided that Eskkar and his men numbered far fewer than the supposed “hundreds” that Takany feared lurked outside the gate. Otherwise Eskkar wouldn’t have let himself get trapped inside Korthac’s house. Probably Eskkar had slipped into the city with a few men, and hoped to raise the inhabitants.
By the time Hathor broke into a run, most of his men had already disappeared up the lane. He wanted to catch up before anything else went wrong. Turning the corner, Hathor and the soldier nearly stumbled over the dead body of one of his men lying in the lane.
Hathor slowed for a moment, looking down at the body, but a shout raised Hathor’s eyes, and he saw another of his soldiers take down some Akkadians, both of them falling against the side of a house.
“Look, he’s killed one of our…”
“Forget him,” Hathor ordered. “Get to the gate.” He shoved the man ahead with one hand and drew his sword with the other as he approached the two bodies. The downed Egyptian appeared dead or unconscious, but the weight of his body still pinned his stunned attacker to the ground.
Hathor raised his sword, but someone screamed behind him. Whirling around, he saw a young woman, a knife in her hand, rushing at him. Off balance, he swung the sword at her head, but she ducked beneath, darting past him and throwing herself across both bodies, trying to protect her man. The knife had fallen from her hand as she landed, and now she fumbled in the dirt trying to recover it.
Although surprised at her courage, Hathor didn’t care. They would both die. He took a step and raised the sword. As he did so, the woman gazed up at him, her eyes wide with fear.
“En-hedu,” he said, recognizing the leather seller from Korthac’s lane.
He even remembered her name.
“Hathor. No!” She raised her arm to protect herself, as her eyes locked on to his.
Speaking his name wouldn’t save her. The sword came down. At the last moment, however, he turned the blade aside, striking the ground a finger width from her ear and knocking the dirt of the lane into her face and hair. For an instant, they stared at each other.
Hathor broke the spell. “Get back to your house, you fool!” The words surprised him as much as En-hedu, who looked up at him in bewilder-ment, her mouth open.
Then a stone, flung by someone in the crowd, flew past his head and rattled against the wall. A few villagers approached, shouting curses and threats at him. Another stone cracked against the wall. He had no more time to waste. Cursing himself for a soft-hearted fool, he raced away, heading toward the gate.
Behind him, cheers arose as the crowd saw the Egyptian running away.
Shocked, En-hedu watched him go, her heart still pounding with fear.
She knew how close to death she’d come. A man and a woman reached her side, and lifted her up. Her legs felt weak and she could scarcely stand. Together they pushed the dead Egyptian aside, the one Tammuz had killed.
En-hedu wrapped her arms around Tammuz. More people joined her res-cuers, and two men gathered up Tammuz. Blood flowed from a large gash over her master’s temple. A woman beckoned them from the doorway of the nearest house, and in a moment, En-hedu and Tammuz found themselves dragged inside its cool walls. For Tammuz and En-hedu, the fighting had ended.