“There is another way, perhaps two,” Urgo went on. “First, we can try to. .” he had to pause to remember the word seldom used by the Clan, “to negotiate with Eskkar. Perhaps he can be persuaded to depart. Villagers like gold and horses. We can offer them to the Akkadians.”
“Buy our path to the water!” Even for Altanar, that course of action bordered on the unthinkable for a warrior. “Never!”
“You will buy the water from that stream, paying for it in the blood of our fighters and our horses.” Urgo shrugged, unperturbed by the passion of Altanar’s response. “If that is not acceptable, then I suggest that we turn the caravan around, and return to the last watering place. Many will die, the old, the young, the weak, and most of the herds, but much of the caravan will survive, as will many of our strongest horses and warriors. Meanwhile, Eskkar cannot remain in this place long. His thousand fighters and half as many horses need food and grain. In a day or two, once we are well on our way, the Akkadians will leave this place. Once they do, they will be vulnerable to attack by our warriors. And for once Eskkar is a long way from the safety of his walled city.”
“To fight and die is surely more honorable than a. . retreat.” Praxa had nearly uttered the word “cowardly,” which no one dared say of Urgo.
“Perhaps Urgo is right,” Thutmose-sin spoke quickly, before tempers flared. “If we can talk to the Akkadians, perhaps we can trade horses and gold for passage.”
“We’ve no gold here,” Altanar said, “unless we strip every ring, necklace, and arm bracelet from our warriors.”
“How many horses would we offer?” Suijan’s voice held a trace of resignation.
“A hundred, three hundred, it makes no difference,” Urgo said. “In three days we’ll lose that many and more to thirst.”
“Why should this Eskkar trust us to deliver the gold and horses?” Bekka’s tone indicated that he, too, preferred not to face the Akkadians.
Thutmose-sin already knew the answer to that one. “I, perhaps all of us, would have to give our oaths as warriors.”
A sigh of despair greeted his words. No warrior dared to break such an oath, even one given to a dirt eater. But no one spoke. Even for proud fighting men now reduced to offering horses for water, the idea of giving their solemn oaths to dirt eaters would take time to swallow.
“And if the traitor spurns your offer?” Bar’rack’s angry voice told everyone what he thought of the prospect.
Not “our” offer, but “your” offer, Thutmose-sin noted. “If we can save the lives of our warriors, we must try. Or we can turn the caravan around, as Urgo suggests. Who else is in favor of that?”
The clan leaders glanced at each other, but no one spoke. Retreating without a fight, refusal to accept the dirt eaters’ challenge, no, the leaders of the Alur Meriki were still not ready to consider that.
“Then we will first try and bargain with the Akkadians.” Thutmose-sin shook his head and took a deep breath. “Meanwhile, prepare your men for the night attack. Unless anyone has another plan?”
He glanced around the circle. No one appeared satisfied, but neither had anyone a better idea. Before he could end the council and send them to their duties, Bar’rack spoke again.
“There may be another way,” Bar’rack said. “I could challenge this Eskkar to fight, warrior against warrior. If I kill him, we agree that his men can depart in peace. If he kills me, then we can give them the horses.”
Thutmose-sin frowned. All of the clan chiefs knew Bar’rack had sworn the Shan Kar against Eskkar.
“I know of your bravery, Bar’rack,” Urgo said. “But Eskkar will not fight you. He commands an entire city and thousands of fighters. No such leader would accept a challenge to fight someone of lesser status. It is likely he does not even know your name. If you offer Eskkar a challenge, he will ignore it.”
Bar’rack flushed at the gentle rebuke, but said nothing.
“No, Eskkar would not fight you,” Thutmose-sin agreed, breaking the silence. “Still, he might take such a challenge from me. But we will hold off on that challenge for now.”
The messenger darted through the ranks, running as fast as he could to find Eskkar and deliver his message. Eskkar thanked the soldier, but he’d already seen the huge cross-pole totem that symbolized the might of the Alur Meriki and the power of its leader. Now placed atop the hill, the white streamers formed of clan tokens and animals symbols floated in the light breeze.
“What does it mean?” Alexar stood beside Eskkar as they stared at the enemy hilltop. Warriors were filling the crest, but their leisurely movement didn’t appear to portend an attack. Some of the Alur Meriki riders had even dismounted, and now stared down at the enemy that denied them water.
“It’s the great Alur Meriki standard, representing all the clans and all their victories. There are even a few yak tails brought down from the steppes,” Eskkar said. “It also means that Thutmose-sin is on the crest.”
By now Hathor, Mitrac, and Drakis had reached his side, all of them staring open-mouthed at the sight. Part of the barbarian ranks parted, and three warriors rode over the crest and started down the slope, walking the horses with unusual care down the incline. They stopped at the base of the hill, well out of range of the Akkadian long bows.
“Is one of them Thutmose-sin?” Alexar couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice.
“Those are all chiefs,” Hathor said. “Look at the horses.”
“Could be,” Eskkar said. None of the three warriors carried a bow or lance. “I think they want to talk, to meet face to face. They’ll wait there until they see three of us move toward them.”
“Why? What is there to talk about?”
Alexar’s blunt words brought a smile to Eskkar’s face. “Well, there’s only one way to find out.” He turned and strode over to where his horse stood. Eskkar’s long sword rested on the ground beside the animal. Eskkar gathered it up and slung it over his right shoulder, then tested it to make sure it drew easily.
“I’m going with you,” Hathor declared.
One glance at his horse commander told Eskkar that nothing would deter the Egyptian from accompanying him. Besides, Hathor’s grim demeanor would strike fear in any warrior’s heart.
“Come, then.” Three barbarian chiefs meant an equal number of Akkadian leaders could meet them in the center of the battleground. Eskkar considered only a moment. “Mitrac! String your bow and find yourself a horse. I want you with me.”
A chorus of disappointed groans rose up at Eskkar’s choice.
“By the gods, Eskkar, don’t take Mitrac,” Alexar said. “Even he can’t use his bow from horseback. Let me come with you.”
Draelin and Drakis joined in the protest, each suggesting he should accompany his leader.
“Only three can face them,” Eskkar said. “And I want to send a message.”
He waited until Mitrac had strung his bow, slung a fat quiver of arrows over his shoulder, and climbed onto the back of a horse. Then Eskkar led the trio through the ranks. He guided his stallion into the stream, letting A-tuku choose its path through the rocks, Hathor and Mitrac following.
Eskkar halted in the middle of the water. A-tuku snorted at the chilly flow, but lowered his head enough to gulp a few mouthfuls of water.
Hathor, too, paused to let his horse drink. “That should send another message.”
When all three horses had slacked their thirst, Eskkar started forward. The three riders splashed onto the opposite shore and let the horses pick their way through the scattered stones. After another twenty paces, Eskkar paused again.
“Do you want me to count their numbers?” Mitrac had taken his station at Eskkar’s left.
Eskkar glanced up at the hilltop. Warriors filled the ridgeline from end to end, two and three deep in places. “No. I’m sure Alexar has his men getting a count.”
Not that it mattered how many warriors the Alur Meriki could field. The Akkadians would have to fight them all.
They waited, but the Alur Meriki didn’t advance. They seemed to be conferring among themselves. It didn’t last long, and the three started toward the Akkadians.