by Sam Barone
“Draw!” Mitrac’s command lifted every bow, the sharp bronze arrow tip pointed halfway to the sky.
Eskkar saw the first rank of Elamites had reached one of the marker stones. Mitrac’s lead bowmen had identified three boulders that marked the distances for the archers. The farthest one stood two hundred and fifty paces away. A long shot, but not impossible, given the Akkadians’ stronger bows and their advantage of holding the higher ground.
“Loose!”
With a whistling sound, the first flight of arrows rose up into the air. Before most of the shafts had reached their highest point, another sixteen hundred missiles sped toward the Elamites. By the time the first arrows arrived, a third flight had leapt from the bowstrings.
The first wave, launched at extreme range, did little. Eskkar saw just a hundred or so shafts reach the Elamites, and most of those impaled themselves on the enemy’s shields. But a few short moments later, the second wave arrived, only a little more ragged than the first. The extra paces the enemy had advanced made a difference, and Eskkar guessed more than a thousand arrows of the second volley had rained down upon the advancing ranks.
As before, many struck the shield wall. But this time a few shafts slipped between or underneath the wooden protection, or struck the third and fourth ranks of the enemy soldiers. The advance slowed a trifle, though it continued on. Even so, the closer the Elamites came, the greater the force that each striking arrow would impart. By now the fall of arrows on the Elamites was continuous, as the more efficient bowmen worked their weapons as quickly as possible.
The enemy, racing up the slope as fast as they could run, slowed as gaps appeared in the front ranks and those immediately behind them. Akkadian arrows continued to fall, striking harder now as the range decreased. At two hundred paces, the Elamite archers, several ranks deep just behind the shield wall, began shooting their own shafts.
But the distance remained yet too great for their smaller bows, and the Elamite bowmen had to expose themselves to use their weapons.
Nevertheless, the Elamites grimly charged on, determined to close with their enemy. At a hundred and fifty paces, the Akkadian cavalry, more than a thousand men fighting on foot, began to arch their own, smaller shafts, up into the sky. With their arrows added into Mitrac’s volleys, nearly twenty-five hundred bowmen loosed death on the invaders, a steady stream of missiles that tore into any exposed flesh and added to the toll of dead and wounded.
The Elamite archers in their now ragged formation, trying to aim their shafts on the run, could barely reach the Akkadians. Already the enemy front rank had been torn apart, the shield bearers either dead, wounded, or falling back, leaving the massed archers without protection. Arrows plunged into the throng of men, some enemy soldiers struck two and three times.
The bodies of the dead from the first battle now hampered their advance and threatened to disrupt their formation. New casualties added to the problem, slowing their progress and opening up wider gaps in the Elamite front line.
Arrows continued to fly. Eskkar had no idea of how many shafts Mitrac’s archers had launched. Eskkar gazed at his bowmen, saw their thick arms and powerful shoulders working without ceasing, their tall bodies supported by sturdy legs.
Lesser men would have begun to tire, but these Akkadian bowmen had practiced their craft for many long days. They still had plenty of strength to pull each shaft to the ear before releasing, as Mitrac demanded.
In a normal battle, the archers would have emptied their quivers by now, turning themselves into simple swordsmen, with little leather armor to protect them. But replacement shafts continued to arrive, as supply men dashed between the lines, carrying fresh quivers to the grunting archers.
Despite their losses, the Elamites pressed on. Their archers had finally drawn within effective range, and loosed their arrows. Most of the shafts imbedded themselves in the spearmen’s shields, but within moments, the enemy arrows extended their reach into the Akkadian bowmen. The Elamite leaders, sensing that their men could close the gap, encouraged the men forward, shouting at them to rush in and kill the Akkadians.
The Elamite advance, slowed somewhat by Mitrac’s arrow storm, burst into a run as they began their final charge. However their once-even lines and formations had deteriorated into a ragged mass of infantry, some still carrying shields, but most just waving swords. Now the attackers were less than forty paces away, screaming their war cries.
Eskkar, peering over the top of his shield, noticed them breathing hard, weakened by their rapid advance up the slope. For a few moments, Mitrac’s archers continued to pour shafts into the crowd of men coming toward them. But at about twenty five paces, the Akkadians could no longer safely target the enemy front ranks. The bows rose up, and again targets were selected from the rear ranks.
The shouting Elamites, relieved to avoid Akkad’s arrows at last, raised their swords and hurled themselves toward the Akkadian shield wall. But before they had closed to within ten paces, Alexar shouted another order, the drum boomed out, and the first two ranks of Akkadian infantry burst into a run, as they charged the oncoming Elamites.
The first line held their spears low, the back part of the shaft gripped tight between the inner arm and chest. The second rank carried their spears in the usual position, the long weapon held level above the shoulder, ready to thrust forward at any target that presented itself.
The Akkadians needed only a step or two to add momentum to their attack, and their long spears ripped into the onrushing Elamites. Sharp spear points burst through shields and bodies, the weapons sometimes passing through a man’s belly and into the flesh of a soldier in the second rank.
Caught by surprise at the unexpected counterattack, the invaders hesitated. It didn’t matter. The long spears were again thrust forward, impaling the attackers. Even when an infantry man lost his spear, ripped from his grasp by a dying enemy, the Akkadian simply lowered his shoulder behind his shield and drove forward, drawing his sword and wielding it as efficiently as a spear, striking upward with short, savage thrusts. For a few moments, the Akkadians continued the killing.
Nevertheless, the overwhelming numbers of the Elamites halted the charging line of the Akkadians. But before the enemy could overwhelm them, Alexar’s drum beat out again, this time with a different rhythm.
The first two ranks of Akkadian spearmen fell back with a rush. They darted and twisted through the third and fourth ranks, who moved forward to take their place. Two more ranks of fresh spears again greeted the invaders. The Akkadians aimed for their enemy’s face and upper body, and the screams of the wounded now rose up, as flesh was torn from bone.
Another wave of enemy soldiers went down, the dead bodies often wrenching the spears from the Akkadians’ hands.
The savage counterattacks slowed the Elamite advance for a few moments. Then, pushed by the steadily advancing rear ranks, the sheer weight of enemy soldiers shoved the Akkadian spearmen back. All the same, in those few moments the first two ranks of Alexar’s infantry had reformed their line, many of the men snatching up new spears from those stocks carried into the Pass by the supply men. Now the third and fourth ranks of Akkadians fell back, dodging between their companions. Then with a crash that echoed off the cliff walls, the two armies came together.
Akkad’s spearmen, even faced with such overwhelming numbers, still managed to take a step or two forward before the collision, using the force of their bodies to drive home their long weapons. But after that, the first rank of spearmen had no opportunity to use their spears.
Instead they snatched swords from their scabbards, and flung themselves against their shields, pushing desperately with their feet, trying to keep their footing even as they thrust their blades into the legs, bellies, faces, and shoulders of their attackers.
The deafening din increased, as section by section, the entire Akkadian battle line stretched across the Pass stood against the surging Elamites. For a few moments, the Akkadians, tucked behind their shield wall, had t
he advantage. The second and third ranks could still use their spears, driving them into the screaming faces of the Elamites. But then, slowly, inexorably, the spearmen were pushed backwards by the greater numbers of their attackers.
Many of the dead Elamites remained upright, unable to fall to the ground while the two armies pressed against each other. Nothing could be heard over screams of the dying and wounded, the roars of men fighting with all their strength, and the clash of arms.
Despite the onslaught, the Akkadians held their formation. But although the Elamites had not trained for such a close-fought encounter, the sheer mass of the attackers made Alexar’s infantry take that first step backward.
Eskkar realized the danger. Another pace or two to the rear, and the line would be overwhelmed. Drawing his sword, he rushed to the center of the line, already pushed out of shape. “Chandra, Pekka, Myandro, to me!”
Some Akkadian bowmen, with no good targets at such close range, dropped their weapons, drew their swords, and joined the fray. Many of them flung themselves against the spearmen’s backs and pushed with all their strength, everyone straining to halt the enemy’s advance.
Most of Mitrac’s men, however, kept their bows in hand. Each time the Akkadian line sagged rearward, opening the slightest gap between the two forces, Mitrac’s bowmen shot shaft after shaft into the disordered ranks. Meanwhile Muta’s archers, from their slightly elevated position, kept shooting at the Elamite rear ranks, trying to slow the assault.
A spearman, struck by two men at the same time, collapsed at Eskkar’s feet. Using his shield and bulk, Eskkar hurled himself into the gap, thrusting his sword into a man’s face so hard that the enemy’s attempt to block the sword failed. Then Eskkar used the pommel on a second Elamite pressed up against his shield. With help from Pekka and Chandra and the other Hawk Clan guards pushing with all their strength, they thrust the Akkadian line back into position.
Mitrac and his most skilled bowmen still plied their weapons, stepping close to the battle line to shoot precisely aimed arrows from distances as short as a pace or two, into the heads of enemy soldiers. One Akkadian shaft grazed Eskkar’s helmet before finding its mark.
The battle raged on, everyone shouting and screaming, hacking and grunting, men cursing as they struggled, the sound of sword on shield, or blade on blade making a din that now overcame even the screams of the wounded and dying.
Only the brute strength of Akkad’s infantry prevented the Elamites from breaking the line. Pushing with their shields and thrusting with their swords, they piled up the Elamite dead in heaps. The Akkadian spearmen stepped on the corpses and wounded as they wielded their weapons. The line wavered and bent, but it did not break.
Eskkar, as battle-crazed as only a barbarian from the steppes could be, roared his family’s war cry as he fought in the front line. One enemy sword thrust was blunted by his breastplate, and a second by the gauntlet on his right arm. But Eskkar turned aside the enemy’s strokes, using his shield even as he jabbed with his sword.
While he might no longer have the strength of his youth, Eskkar’s height and bulk gave him an advantage. The long years of self-discipline and daily training ensured that he yet possessed plenty of power in his sword arm.
The assault, still in doubt, continued. The longer the fighting raged, the harder the Elamites fought, taking strength from their numbers. Eskkar sensed it, and increased his efforts to drive back the center. But the enemy held their line, and Eskkar felt himself driven back a step. He redoubled his efforts, killing two men in as many strokes, but even that success required another step to the rear.
Then suddenly, some of the pressure against his shield abated. To his surprise, the Elamites slowed their advance. Nevertheless, the outcome remained uncertain. Eskkar saw the enemy soldiers glancing to their right, toward the boulders. Through the din, he heard a new sound – the young and higher pitched voices of Shappa’s men. From the heights of the cliff on the Akkadian left flank, slingers and bowmen were hurling their stones or loosing their shafts into the crowded group beneath them.
Eskkar fought on, until those opposing him took a few steps back. Then a group of Muta’s fresh reserves surged into the front rank, interposing themselves between the enemy and their King. Their courage and ferocity allowed Eskkar to disengage from the battle line and assess the situation.
Holding his shield to his eyes, he scanned the field of battle from side to side. The left cliff wall and boulders seemed alive with slingers, all of them screaming and launching their missiles into the mass of Elamites below.
Breathing hard, it took a moment before Eskkar grasped the situation. The slingers must have driven back the Elamite soldiers attempting to force their way through the boulders, and now they had turned their weapons against those enemy soldiers assaulting Eskkar’s left flank. He saw that the Elamite attack on his left had faltered, and the enemy was moving backward, unused to this type of assault from above.
That meant the center needed to stand firm no matter what. “Hold the line!” Eskkar shouted. “Hold the center!”
He glanced to his right, where the battle line had also sagged rearward. The enemy had drawn even with the fighting platform, leaving it almost exposed. But Drakis, commanding on the right side, now hurled his reserves into the line. Muta, too, surged the rest of his archers forward into the center and the right flank. Another blast of arrows, launched directly into the screaming faces of the enemy, halted the surge and drove them back.
In those few moments, the Akkadian spearmen in the center regrouped their line into its normal deadly formation. Some had snatched up fresh spears, and now they rushed forward, thrusting with their weapons and using their shields, driving back the Elamites on the Akkadian left flank.
Alexar had also managed to regroup his spearmen. Despite the heat of battle, he ordered a counterattack, and his men surged forward against the retreating Elamites. But Alexar quickly saw a better opportunity and halted his men’s advance. Instead he bellowed the order that turned them toward the still desperate struggle in the center. With a deep roar, two ranks of Akkadian infantry struck the center of the Elamites.
Eskkar quickly took in the change in tactics. He glanced to his right, and saw Drakis shouting and pushing his men back into position. The right flank was going to hold. Only the danger to the center still threatened to break the line. Eskkar raised his sword. “To me!” His words boomed over his men. Calling out the names of his guards, he moved back into the line, strengthening the center.
Again Eskkar found himself in the forefront, with men attacking him from three sides. But an arrow from Mitrac’s great war bow penetrated one man’s eye, snapping the man’s head back. Eskkar blocked one thrust with his shield and another with his sword. Then a Hawk Clan guard thrust a long spear into the belly of the Elamite on Eskkar’s right. Whirling his heavy blade around, Eskkar struck the forearm of the man pinned against his shield, sending the enemy soldier to his knees with a nearly severed arm.
A small volley of arrows from Mitrac’s archers helped to halt the Elamites, already reeling from Alexar’s charge. The enemy began to give ground, moving backward. Those who still had shields ducked behind them, while others just retreated as quickly as they could.
Those few arrows were more than the Elamites could bear. They had fought bravely enough. But with most of their shields gone, they didn’t have the discipline to smash through the bristling wall of Akkadian spears. Nor did they have sufficient archers to disrupt their enemies.
The now ragged advance stopped, and no amount of orders could drive the Elamites forward again. Too many of their fighters had ducked behind their own men. They knew it was certain death to stay in the front ranks.
In twos and threes, they turned and slipped back through the mass of men who still had not engaged the Akkadians. However small that first retreat, it quickly spread through the remaining ranks of the Elamites. The entire forward movement collapsed, as more and more of the leading elements abandoned
the attack and fled, their panic spreading to those behind them.
Now Mitrac’s archers, snatching up their bows once again, finished the ruin of the assault. They targeted anyone who held his ground. Individual Elamite commanders and subcommanders, many still urging their men to resume the fight, died under the onslaught of arrows, some men struck by four and five shafts.
Once started, no effort by the enemy leaders, those few who survived, could hold them back. All the Elamites began to retreat, desperate to get away from the deadly spears, not to mention the never-ending arrows and stones that seemed to find every gap in their shields or armor.
The enemy, unwilling to face Akkad’s reforming shield wall, kept moving backward. Another wave of arrows struck at them, and turned the retreat into a rout. The Elamites broke, lost what little discipline remained, and ran for the rear, ignoring the exhortations of their commanders.
The ground, covered with Elamite dead and wounded, hindered their retreat as much as it had held up their advance. Arrows struck unprotected backs, knocking many of the fleeing men to their knees. The slaughter continued until the Akkadian arrows could no longer reach the disorganized Elamites.
The second Elamite attack had failed.
All the same, the arrow storm that followed the Elamites back down the slope was far less than it had been at the beginning of the attack. Many of the Akkadian archers had dropped their bows to draw swords. Other bowmen had been killed, and some were just too exhausted to fight. Before a man could count to thirty, the Elamites were scrambling out of range.
Eskkar watched the enemy soldiers, once down the slope and out of range, slump to the earth in exhaustion, despair visible in their movements even at that distance. He realized his own arm was shaking, and looked down to find a line of blood dripping from his shoulder. Something, an arrow or a sword, had nicked the upper part of his right arm.
