The watchkeeper took a torch from one of his men and leaned out over the top of the gate, then looked up and down the length of the wall.
He saw nothing unusual, and the jetty showed only Yavtar and his two boatmen. Dawn approached, and he’d be opening the gate soon enough anyway. He might as well open it early for this Yavtar. He turned away from the river.
“Open the gate. Bring Yavtar in.”
Alexar had never run so hard in his life. But now he waited in the darkness, his men beside him. The first five men who climbed over the wall, after Eskkar and his archers, had joined Alexar in his race to the river gate. They knew they had to hurry. Even if Yavtar talked the gate open, he’d need their help. They’d rushed through the lanes, making as little noise as possible, until, breathing hard, they reached their destination.
The huts here encroached closer to the portal than at Akkad’s main entrance. Hidden in the deeper shadow cast by a house wall, Alexar and his men stood close enough to the rear of the gate to hear every exchange.
They’d reached their position only moments after Yavtar docked his boat, and now Alexar, still breathing hard, stood listening, staring up at the guards manning the gate, waiting for the commander of the watch to react.
The gatekeeper took his time, talking to his men and ordering extra torches lit.
Rebba had told Eskkar that the river gate wasn’t as well guarded as Akkad’s main entrance. Using his fingers, Alexar counted sixteen men as they took their stations on either side of the gate. Sixteen against six. Even with surprise, it was going to be bloody if Yavtar couldn’t convince the watchmaster to open the gate. Alexar knew it took at least two men to lift the heavy beams that secured the gate closed, and if they had to fi ght off anyone…
“If they don’t open the gate,” Alexar said, “we’ll have to kill them all.
Keep shooting no matter what, then make sure that gate gets opened.”
Gripping his bow, he listened as Yavtar and the chief guard exchanged words. Then the watchkeeper grabbed one of his men by the arm and spoke to him before returning to the top of the gate. The man nodded, then began jogging toward the lane.
“Stand ready,” Alexar ordered, and moved to his right, staying in the shadow of the houses, and converging on the same lane the messenger would take. Eskkar had warned Alexar about the possibility of the watch commander dispatching a messenger. Hugging the wall, Alexar watched as the messenger turned the corner; once out of sight of the gate and its commander, the man slowed to a walk and started up the lane, heading toward Eskkar’s house.
When Alexar turned the same corner, only a few paces separated him from the shadowy messenger. Alexar drew his bow, and sent an arrow into the man’s back. His target, knocked to his knees by the force of the shaft, gasped in surprise as he pitched forward. By then Alexar had reached the dying man’s side, drawn his sword, and pushed it into the man’s neck, ending any possibility of a call for help. Snapping off the arrow, he rolled the body against the nearest wall.
He paused to look about. Everything seemed quiet, and perhaps no one had heard or seen anything. Alexar returned to his men, just in time to hear the watchkeeper give the order to open the gate. Alexar breathed a sigh of relief. Yavtar must have succeeded in convincing the watchmaster. Half a dozen guards put down their bows and descended the steps to the base of the gate. In moments, they struggled with the heavy wooden beams that secured the portal. With a loud creak, the right side of the gate began to swing inward. Then Yavtar stood in the opening, scratching his head.
“That’s the signal,” Alexar whispered. “Bantor’s men are ready. Take the guards on the wall first, anyone with a bow in his hands.” Alexar nocked a shaft to his bow. By now the other half of the gate began to swing open as well. The firelight showed Yavtar stepping forward. He paused, remaining one stride from the opening, still talking to the gatekeeper, who stood there with four of his men.
“Fire!” Six arrows flashed out of the darkness, striking at the men looking out over the wall or down at the ever-widening opening. Before anyone could react, the second wave of shafts flew toward the gate, taking almost half their enemies by surprise. The gatekeeper died, crying out in surprise as two arrows knocked him from his feet. A guard atop the wall shouted a warning, but more arrows flew, and he pitched forward, falling with a loud crash onto a small cart beneath the wall.
By then Yavtar and the three “slaves,” knives in hand, had forced their way through the opening, striking down two more men, and making sure the heavy gate stayed open. Still hidden in the shadows, Alexar and his men picked their targets, selecting anyone attempting to close the gate, or trying to give the alarm. A few shouted for help, but the heavy shafts whistling through the air soon silenced the voices.
An arrow skipped off the wall behind Alexar, the guards’ first attempt to strike back. But the gate’s defenders couldn’t see their targets well, while the dropped torches and watch fire gave Alexar and his men plenty of light for shooting.
Then it was too late. The heavy portal, once opened, couldn’t be easily closed. Yavtar’s two crewmen rushed to his side, carrying extra swords, but they weren’t needed. Both sides of the gate burst apart, pushed aside by a wall of men. Bantor and his thirty men, hidden less than a hundred paces away from the gate, had sprinted forward the moment Yavtar gave the signal. The few surviving guards turned and ran, scattering in all directions.
Alexar and his men, shooting as fast as they could, dropped a few more, but darkness soon hid their targets, and at least two or three escaped into the night.
Alexar stepped forward, holding his bow above his head. “Eskkar has returned,” he called out, just loud enough to be heard. Bantor recognized him, and the two forces joined together.
“Yavtar,” Bantor said without stopping, “you and Alexar must hold the gate.” Bantor had no more time for words. At a run, he and his men departed for the barracks less than four lanes away, their feet pounding against the dirt the only sound to mark their departure.
Yavtar strode over to Alexar, his two boatmen following. Together they watched the last of Bantor’s men disappear up the street. “I don’t want to stay here, Alexar. There won’t be any more fighting in this place.”
Alexar didn’t want to miss the fighting either. “We’re supposed to make sure no one gets away. That’s what Eskkar said.”
“No one will try to escape this way. They’ll go over the wall,” Yavtar countered. “Besides, Eskkar is going to need every man.”
The more Alexar thought about it, the more he decided Yavtar was right. “We could bar the gate, and hammer it shut. That should keep it sealed.”
Yavtar frowned. “Where would we get the tools?”
Alexar turned to the crowd of onlookers gathering about them. Sleepy citizens from adjacent houses had heard or seen the fight, and now peered out from doorways, the braver ones stepping forth cautiously from their houses. Their voices contributed to the babble of sound that increased every moment.
“We won’t need tools,” Alexar said. He raised his voice just enough to carry to those nearby. The time for silence had passed. “Akkadians! Eskkar has returned to bring vengeance to Korthac. Keep silent, and bar the gate!
Hammer it shut. Find weapons and keep the gate closed. Make sure no one leaves the city! Get moving. Eskkar has returned.”
Eskkar’s name emptied the nearby houses, and a few cheers from the rooftops floated into the night, praising Eskkar’s return.
“Keep silent, you fools!” Alexar’s voice stopped the cheering.
“Should we go to the barracks?” Yavtar glanced up at the night sky.