Bows strung and arrows nocked, they covered the last hundred paces, stopping when they reached the first body. It was a young boy, an arrow protruding from his back, shot down trying to escape to the fields. By then Bantor knew they’d find the farmhouse empty, except for the dead. He sent his men to circle the farm, looking for fresh tracks.
“Over here… men and horses going south, commander.” Klexor dismounted, dropping to his knees and studying the ground with care. “Looks like eight or ten men, but I only see tracks for two horses.”
“How long ago?”
“Not long. Maybe an hour. Less than two. They’re moving at a run, following the horses.”
Bantor thought it over. The horse trail went southwest, slightly away from the river. That meant Ariamus led the men. Only he would be crafty enough to head somewhat away from the river, knowing that boats might have already been dispatched north and south, to give warning of what had happened in Akkad and alerting every village to hunt down any escaping fugitives. So Ariamus would be riding one of those horses, and probably leading these fugitives; if there were any Egyptians among them, they would need someone who knew the land.
“Follow their trail, Klexor,” Bantor said.
They watered the horses at the canal, then resumed the pursuit, following the recent tracks. These renegades, desperate for horses, food, and weapons, would kill anyone in their path. If they managed to pick up more horses, the whole lot might scatter, and Ariamus might yet escape.
Bantor set the pace at a strong canter, his men spread out, with a clear trail to follow. The sun marched across the sky as morning prepared to give way to noon. They pushed the horses hard, changing mounts often, but always studying the land to make sure they didn’t ride into an ambush.
The tracks grew fresher. Bantor looked up at the sun. They’d have them all by early afternoon, he decided.
“Fresh tracks here,” Klexor said, halting the men and again dismounting to study the ground. His fingers traced the hoofprint in the dirt, getting the feel of the dirt as it hardened. “They’re not far ahead now.”
They rode on, passing fewer farms as they moved farther away from the river. The land became brown, the grasses sparse, with more rocks and gullies to slow them down. But the hoofprints and sandal tracks grew fresher with every stride, and Klexor no longer needed to dismount to read its message. They rode until the horses needed changing, then rested while Bantor talked to the men.
“When we catch up with them, I’ll take Naram-tanni and go after Ariamus and whoever’s riding the other horse.” Naram-tanni shot an excellent shaft. Bantor figured that would be all the help he needed. “Klexor, you take charge of the rest of the men. Kill all the Egyptians.”
Not long afterward, Bantor and his soldiers crested a hill and saw the enemy more than a mile away, walking now, heads down with fatigue, plodding a hundred paces behind two horsemen. Bantor grunted in satisfaction.
He kept to a steady pace, not pushing the horses, waiting until they’d been spotted, and using the time to study his quarry. As far as he could tell, only two of the fugitives carried bows, and both bowmen were on foot.
The Akkadians closed the distance to less than a mile before anyone turned around to spot them. The fugitives broke into a run, while the two horsemen, after watching for a moment, put their horses to a gallop.
Bantor held his men to a trot, and the gap between the two groups briefly widened. But the men on foot couldn’t keep up the pace, and the group began to straggle out, as the weaker men trailed behind the stronger.
Bantor grunted in satisfaction. He’d learned that Alur Meriki tactic from Eskkar. If he’d rushed down on the men at first sight, they’d have banded together to resist. If they thought they could get away, they’d keep running, exhausting themselves at the same time fear gnawed at their insides.
Bantor’s men spread out into a wide line that stretched a hundred paces across. The hindmost of the fugitives ahead of them stumbled and fell. He got to his feet and staggered on, but couldn’t keep up the pace. He turned to face his pursuers, sword in hand.
Bantor’s horsemen closed in. Their larger bows couldn’t be used effectively from horseback, but they could still be drawn, though not fully extended or aimed accurately. Nevertheless, at such short range, it didn’t matter. A hail of arrows flew at Korthac’s man, and he went down, his body riddled with shafts.
Another straggler died the same way. By then the Egyptians realized they couldn’t escape. The last six stopped and turned to face their enemy.
“Finish them, Klexor,” Bantor shouted. Then he and Naram-tanni, each still leading an extra horse, swung wide around the fugitives and galloped on.
Since two of the Egyptians carried bows, Klexor decided to take no chances. He called out new orders, the Akkadian line compacted, and they dismounted a hundred paces from the Egyptians. Three of Klexor’s men gathered up the horses and held them fast, while the others started shooting.
The Egyptians, tired from the day’s running and not used to the heavy bows, couldn’t find the range. One enemy bowman went down in the first volley. Another took up the fallen man’s weapon, but Klexor’s five archers poured volley after volley of arrows at them. Both enemy bowmen went down by the third volley. The next volley struck down two more. One Egyptian killed himself, falling on his sword rather than be captured. The last three, one of them wounded, charged at their attackers and died, the deadly shafts taking them down long before they could close the distance.
Bantor and Naram-tanni ignored the fighting behind them. They kept moving, racing at full speed after the two horsemen, by now almost out of sight. The gap began to close. Bantor’s horses might not be as fresh as the ones Ariamus rode, but the best horseflesh always wound up in Akkad, and these mounts now proved their quality over the stolen farm animals. When the horse Bantor rode started to tire, he slowed to a walk and leaped onto the second animal without dismounting, and broke into a gallop, abandoning the tired horse to be recovered by Klexor’s men.
The distance had closed to less than three hundred paces when one of the horses ahead of Bantor stumbled and went down. The rider, caught looking behind at his pursuers, landed hard. Bantor saw the man’s dark skin and galloped ahead. “Kill the Egyptian, Naram-tanni,” Bantor said as he swung wide around the dismounted man and galloped after Ariamus.
Naram-tanni pulled his horse to a stop about a hundred paces away, nocked an arrow, and waited, watching his quarry. The Egyptian looked fit and hard, and Naram-tanni didn’t want to waste shafts trying to hit a dodging target. He decided to wait. Klexor and the rest of the soldiers would be arriving soon.
The Egyptian drew his sword and stood there, waiting for Naram-tanni to advance. Moments passed, until he realized the horseman wasn’t attacking. Suddenly he burst into a run, coming straight toward the mounted archer.
Before the Egyptian had covered half the distance between them, Naram-tanni turned his horse aside and cantered off, glancing back to make sure he stayed just ahead of the Egyptian.
Exhausted by the chase, the Egyptian stopped and waited. Naram-tanni guided his horse back until another hundred paces separated them. He sat there, staring. Naram-tanni had plenty of time, and the Egyptian wasn’t going anywhere. The sound of hoofbeats floated over the grass, and Klexor and two other men rode into view, each of them leading a spare horse.
“The other bandits are all dead,” Klexor said, when he reached Naram-tanni’s side. “Let’s take this one alive.”
“I don’t think this one is going to throw down his sword,” Naram-tanni said.
“Put a shaft into him,” Klexor ordered, readying his own bow. “That’ll change his mind.”
Looking a little dubious, Naram-tanni dismounted. He handed the halter to Klexor, and started walking forward.