Eskkar Saga 02 - Empire Rising

by Sam Barone

  Ambushed like raw recruits, they’d seen their friends and fellow soldiers killed. Worse, their dead would have to lie unburied, while their comrades fled for their lives.

  Hands tightened on sword hilts and bows. Counting Bantor, they numbered seventeen. They looked at each other. The fight wasn’t over. For these men, the battle had just begun.

  Bantor looked up at the descending sun, slipping halfway below the horizon. It would be dark soon. He had thought they’d all be drinking in a tavern by then.

  “All right, men. Get what you need, and let’s go. We’ve a long walk tonight.” Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he picked up a bow and a full quiver, and started north.

  Chapter 18

  Once the moon rose, they had enough light to make out the flat terrain. Bantor drove the men hard all night. They’d alternated between jogging and walking, and the threat of Ariamus and his horsemen not only drove them onward, it kept them looking over their shoulders. Except for an occasional farmhouse, they saw little. Twice they stopped at a farmer’s well for water. The first time they went unnoticed, but at the second, the dogs awoke everyone with their barking, and Bantor had to order the family back into their house, warning them to say nothing to anyone.

  By the time he gave the order to halt, only a few hours remained before dawn. Exhausted, sore-footed, and hungry, the men had covered twenty miles and reached the trail that led north to Bisitun. Everyone fell asleep in moments, falling to the earth without regard to comfort. When the sun woke them, no one felt rested. They’d slept only long enough to sustain them.

  The road posed even greater danger. Travelers and traders would be coming along, some on horseback, and it wouldn’t be long before word of their passage got back to Akkad. Even more worrisome, Ariamus might send any number of riders up the road, to prevent their escape to the north. Bantor determined not to lose a moment.

  As soon as he started walking, the pain in his shoulder returned. Sleeping on the hard ground hadn’t helped; the brief rest had stiffened it, and each step made him wince in pain. The soreness seemed worse than the day before. Klexor examined him and declared that nothing seemed broken, and for that small comfort, Bantor gave thanks.

  By midmorning, they’d walked and jogged another ten miles, and every tired step took them farther from Akkad. They began to encounter travelers, most heading in the opposite direction, toward Akkad, and all of them on foot.

  “Shouldn’t we warn them there might be danger in Akkad?” Klexor asked, the first time they passed some travelers heading toward the city.

  “If we do, they’ll spread the word, and soon half the countryside will know we’re heading north. They’ll have to take their chances at Akkad. Otherwise any scouts Ariamus has in the area will know we’ve passed this way.”

  “They may mention us anyway, when they arrive.”

  “Or they may forget all about us in the excitement.” Bantor had anticipated this during the night’s walk. More important, he’d learned from Eskkar the need to appear confident before the men, even when uncertainty gripped your insides. “Besides, it will take them hours to reach Akkad, maybe even until sunset. We’ll cover a lot of ground before then.”

  Bantor turned to face Klexor. “Tell the men to say nothing to anyone we pass. Not a word.”

  Klexor grunted, and began to pass the word down the line.

  Not that anyone wanted to speak to them anyway, Bantor decided. He and his heavily armed men looked gaunt, dirty, and dangerous, and the few wayfarers they encountered shrank aside, staring openmouthed and with fear in their eyes, as the soldiers strode past in silence.

  They rested every hour, all of them trying to ignore the pangs of hunger that rumbled in their bellies. Just before noon, Bantor gave the order to halt. The men sank to the ground, too tired to complain about their hunger.

  “Klexor, we’re about thirty miles north of Akkad.” Bantor wiped the sweat from his face, as his men grouped themselves around their leaders.

  “It’s time to cut over to the river. I know a farm that has some boats. We’ll wait until the road is clear, then we’ll move west. ”

  “We’re nearly halfway to Dilgarth. We could be there by early morning, if we push hard.”

  “I’d like to, Klexor, but we don’t know what might be waiting for us in Dilgarth. And even if we made it there, we’d never be able to get back to Akkad.” Bantor shook his head. “No, I think the river is safer for us. We can find something to eat at the farm, too. If things are really bad, we may be safer on the other side of the Tigris anyway.”

  Klexor shrugged, but didn’t have anything better to offer. “Then let’s get off the road now, while it’s clear.”

  One by one, they slipped off the dusty trail, leaving as little trace of their presence as possible. They stumbled along as best they could on the uneven terrain, until they’d passed well out of sight of anyone traveling on the road. They covered the last stretch to the river at a slow walk, the only pace they could manage.

  When they cleared a low hill and saw the farmhouse ahead, nestling a stone’s throw from the river, Bantor felt close to exhaustion. The pain from his shoulder, combined with the unfamiliar effort of walking, had tired him more than he would have expected. His men looked no better, and he decided he’d made the right choice; traveling on the road, they would never have reached Dilgarth before riders caught up with them.

  Spreading his men out to avoid leaving tracks, they stepped down into the nearest irrigation ditch, and splashed along its winding course down to the river.

  The farm, a large one with several separate buildings surrounded by fields of wheat and barley, belonged to a man named Hargar. Children playing under a tree noticed them approaching, and ran to warn the adults.

  The family barricaded themselves inside the main building. Bantor knew the appearance of so many armed men would frighten any farmer.

  When they reached the sheep pen, Bantor climbed out of the ditch.

  “Wait here,” he told the men. “Klexor, come with me.” The two men walked side by side to the house.

  “Ho, Hargar! No need to hide in your cellar. It’s Bantor, commander at Akkad, and we need your help.”

  Nothing happened, so Bantor and Klexor sat in the dirt under a fruit tree in front of the main house, a few paces from the door. Bantor leaned gratefully against the tree and hoped nobody in the house decided to launch an arrow at him. After a long moment, they heard shuffling at the door, and a young man stuck his head out and stared at them, eyes wide and mouth open.

  “Who are you?” Bantor called out.

  “I’m Hargar’s son, Hannis. My father has gone to Dilgarth to sell a goat. Is it really you, Bantor?” His voice sounded fearful, but he stepped outside and slowly approached the men sitting on the ground. “By the gods, it is you. What are you doing here? Why did you approach through the ditches?”

  “It’s a long story, Hannis. But something’s gone wrong at Akkad. Have you heard any news from there?”

  “No, no one’s gone to market in over a week,” Hannis said, still looking nervous at the sight of the rest of Bantor’s men.

  “Well, we need your help. If we wanted to slit your throats, you’d all be dead by now. I need food and drink for my men.” Bantor reached into his pouch and took out the last of his silver coins. “Knowing your father, I suppose I’ll have to pay for it.” He tossed the coins to Hannis. “Give these to Hargar when he returns.”

  An hour later, Bantor and all his men, full of food and a few mouthfuls of ale, had fallen asleep behind a storehouse nestled next to the river.

  Klexor stood watch, as much to make sure no one left the farm as to guard against anyone approaching.

  A little before sundown, Bantor and his men ate again, filling themselves on bread, cheese, and several tasteless sausages Hargar had been planning to sell in the market at Akkad.

  “We’re taking your boats, Hannis,” Bantor said. “Don’t bother complaining. You’ll be paid when things
settle down in Akkad.”

  “And if they don’t settle down, then I’ll be out two boats,” Hannis answered. “Can’t you pay me now?”

  Bantor smiled. “You’ve learned your father’s ways. I would if I could, but you’ve already got the last of my silver. Besides, you’ll probably get the boats back anyway.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “We’re going upriver to Dilgarth. It’s better than walking, and there’s no place nearby where we’ll find enough horses.”

  “What’s going on in Dilgarth? Has Eskkar returned from the north?”

  Bantor took the last piece of bread from the platter and stood. “Stay away from both Akkad and Dilgarth for at least a week. And Hannis, make sure no one in your family says anything about us being here or taking the boats. Or I’ll come back and take that silver out of your hides. You’ll wish the Alur Meriki had returned if I find you’ve told anyone we were here or where we’re going. Do you understand?”

  Bantor walked away without waiting for a reply. At the river, two boats bobbed in the water, tied to posts sunk into the bank. One was little more than a skiff, and used as much for working in the irrigation ditches as on the river. The other craft was larger, and sturdy enough to ferry crops and animals to the markets in Akkad.

  Four of Bantor’s men knew about boats, and he told them to take charge. They emptied the vessel of ballast, and positioned the men with care. Seventeen men could barely squeeze aboard, and both boats rode dangerously low in the water. Even Bantor could see it wouldn’t take much to capsize them. The sun had just gone down when they pushed off, heading north. Without a breeze, they didn’t bother to raise the tiny sail on the larger craft.

  Powering the overloaded boats upstream took plenty of muscle, and the men handed off the small paddles to one another whenever they tired.

  They paddled until well away from the farm. Only when the darkness of night covered everything did Bantor order them to turn toward the shore, satisfied no one could see them. If anyone came to the farm and put a knife to Hannis’s throat, the farmer could honestly say that Bantor had gone north, up the river.

  They rested, watching the stars appear, before turning the boats around and heading back toward Akkad, with four men working the oars.

  The paddling went easier downstream, and they made better time.

  Bantor wanted to go faster, but the boatmen refused to speed up, afraid of a spill in the darkness, in an overweighted boat paddled by clumsy oarsmen.

  Most of the men sat immobile, afraid to move. No one wanted to go for a swim in the river at night, with a good chance of drowning in the bargain.

  Bantor watched the shoreline, and soon the dark outlines of Hargar’s farmhouse slid past. He saw no one, and anyone watching the river would have to be standing at the edge of the riverbank to notice the vessels’ silent passing.

  The moon rose, climbed, and began to fall, as they made their way down the Tigris. Bantor guessed they still had another hour or so before dawn when the boatman called out that they were approaching Akkad.

  Bantor couldn’t see anything, except the river glinting in the moonlight.

  No lights showed anywhere along the river. He knew all the farmers would be fast asleep, thriftily saving their oil and candles. Torches would be burning in Akkad, but Bantor knew they would have to be farther downriver to see those.

  The boat edged closer to the eastern shore, though he couldn’t make out anything, and had no idea what landmarks the boatmen recognized.

  Though he’d lived near Akkad all his life, the river remained a mystery to him. Bantor flinched when the bottom grated on the sand, then thumped against a small wooden jetty protruding a few feet into the river. In the faint moonlight he could see another boat tied up there as well.

  The boatmen swung onto the jetty and secured the boats fast. The men disembarked one at a time, taking care not to swamp the listing riverboats. Bantor climbed ashore last, breathing thanks to the gods that he, his men, and their weapons stood on solid earth again.

  The soldiers moved inland, stringing their bows as they went. Noble Rebba’s farm, a combination of houses and corrals, lay a few hundred paces from the river. They stopped a good distance from the nearest house, crouching down behind an irrigation ditch. The farm, one of several that Noble Rebba owned, was a rich one, and he had both dogs and men to protect his herds and crops from petty thieves and robbers. It would be too dangerous to approach at night. Bantor decided to wait there until dawn.

  He told the men to take what rest they could, but to keep their bows strung and at the ready for any confrontation.

  When the sun’s first rays crossed the horizon, Bantor advanced toward the farmhouse. He had grown up on a farm, much smaller than this one, of course, but he remembered the ways of dogs and animals. So he headed first to the path that led to Akkad, then followed that toward the main house. A dog barked, joined at once by another, and Bantor saw two men step into the sunlight in front of the main house. They looked at him in surprise as he approached, and in a moment a third man appeared, carrying swords that he handed to the others.

  Bantor knew he looked like a bandit in his ripped and tattered garment that showed the mud of the river. The dogs surrounded him, growling and sniffing, but one of the men called them off, and Bantor walked right up to the door.

  “Where is Noble Rebba, master of the house? I am Bantor, commander of the guard of Akkad.”

  Rebba appeared at the door. An old man, already past his sixtieth season, he had long white hair that flowed past his shoulders. His wits remained sharp despite his years, however, and Rebba looked keenly at Bantor, then stepped closer, as if to make sure his tired eyes had seen correctly. “So, it is you. You look very well for a dead man.” He smiled at Bantor’s reaction. “Come in.”

  Inside the main house, two frightened women and three small girls with big eyes huddled together. They stared at Bantor for a few moments before resuming their preparations for the morning meal. Bantor frowned at them, and Rebba interpreted the glance.

  “Adana, take Miriani and the girls outside.”

  With the women gone, Bantor examined the main room, hand on the hilt of his sword, then moved to the other rooms, looking inside to make sure they were empty. Satisfied, he went back to the doorway and checked that all of Rebba’s people had moved out of earshot before turning back to the old noble.

  “Well, Rebba, can you tell me what is going on? On my way to Akkad yesterday, my men were attacked by a group of bandits. They were led by Ariamus. You remember that coward, I’m sure.”

  “Bandits? Well, I wouldn’t call them bandits, exactly,” Rebba said with a grim laugh. “And Ariamus? He’s one of the new rulers of Akkad.”

  Not too long ago, such words would have infuriated Bantor. But too many men had died in the siege, and death had brushed by him too many times to worry him now. “Is he? So who else rules in Akkad?”

  Something in Bantor’s tone gave Rebba pause, until he remembered that this man had been away trailing the barbarians for more than a month.

  “Who else but Korthac.”

  Rebba noted the puzzled look. “Ah, yes, that’s right. Korthac arrived after you left for the south. He claims he’s a merchant, a trader, but he has the look of a soldier about him. He arrived about six weeks ago, just after Eskkar headed north. Korthac comes from the distant west, possibly even from the land of Egypt. He’s taken control of Akkad. It seems that Trella’s spies failed to uncover the plot.”

  “And when did all this happen?” Right now Bantor had no interest in anyone’s spies.

  “Two nights ago. Just after sunset, Ariamus rode up to the river gate from the south. Korthac had men waiting inside, near the gate, with weapons hidden in bundles. They killed the gatekeepers and captured the gate without anyone raising the alarm. Ariamus and more than a hundred men ran in uncontested. Joining with Korthac’s Egyptians, they attacked the barracks and caught many of the soldiers asleep. At the same time, t
hey overpowered Trella’s guards and seized her house. By now, Korthac has at least a hundred and fifty bandits and thieves in his service, with more swearing allegiance to him every day. He’s paying well for men willing to follow orders, and killing anyone who disobeys his commands.”

  “Only a hundred and fifty!” Bantor exclaimed. “There are more than three thousand people in Akkad. Surely they won’t submit to this Korthac and a few bandits.”

  “Most of the soldiers are dead or captured, Bantor. A few may be in hiding. Anyone who speaks out or even raises his eyes is killed. Korthac holds Trella prisoner in her own house. Korthac’s house, now, I suppose. I don’t know what happened to Gatus. My grandson brought word of all this last night, along with a midmorning summons for me. All the big farm holders are ordered to come into Akkad today, to meet with our new master, Korthac.”

  “Will you still go?”

  “Of course I must go. I was getting ready to leave when you arrived. I want to get there early, to see Nicar first and find out what he thinks. He’ll know more of what is happening.” Rebba looked closely at his visitor, who stood there looking blindsided at all these happenings. “Are you alone?”

  The question brought Bantor back to the present. “No, I’m not alone. I have sixteen men with me, and they’re all looking for vengeance. So go to the city, Rebba, and talk to Nicar, but don’t tell anyone we’re here. Not even Nicar. Not if you want to keep your family alive.” He fingered his sword. “Ariamus will die, and any that stand with him. I’ve sent word to Eskkar. He will be here in a few days. With his seventy men, we’ll brush aside this Korthac like a fly.”

  “They say Eskkar’s dead, and his men butchered. Even if he’s alive, he’ll be outside the walls, the same walls that just held off thousands of barbarians.”

  Bantor laughed, throwing his head back, but the sound had a trace of danger in it. “Eskkar’s not easy to kill. Besides, do you think the wall will stop him?” He smiled grimly at the old noble’s reaction. “Tell me, who would you rather have as your enemy? Eskkar, or this Korthac? Do you really think these bandits will stand up to Eskkar’s soldiers?”