Alcinor glanced up at the sun. Only a little past noon. “So the main force could be here by midday tomorrow.”
“Don’t count on it. They’ll probably make camp at the crest, which means they’ll reach this place earlier, perhaps by midmorning.” Draelin sighed. “Can you still do it?”
The man was nothing if not direct, Alcinor realized. “Perhaps. We’ll have to work through the night, by torchlight. It will be more dangerous.”
“The Elamites may see the glow of your torches.” Draelin took a deep breath. “That doesn’t matter now. Get your men to work, and let me know if any of my men can help.”
“You heard him, Jahiri.” Alcinor didn’t like this. He, Jahiri, and all their men would have to work on the cliff face at the same time. If anything went wrong, they would all be dead, crushed by the unimaginable weight of stone overhead. And if the cliff didn’t come down, they were likely to die from the swords of the Elamites. Either way, they would be just as dead.
Alcinor had to appeal to his men. None of them wanted to work at night, let alone all of them up there, crowded underneath the shadowy overhand, bumping into each other and the beams. In the end, he had to promise them more coins. They finally agreed, but by then Draelin had sent ten of his bowmen up to the ledge, ostensibly to guard the workers.
The grim soldiers looked just as capable of shooting Akkadians as Elamites. The craftsmen and laborers understood the silent message, and Alcinor didn’t bother to ask what the soldiers’ orders were.
Torches, water, oil, the rest of the firewood, four stout ropes, and the two heavy bronze chains soon arrived, lugged up the ascent by sweating soldiers. Jahiri placed the men and got them started. This time neither he nor Alcinor dared watch from the safety of the ledge. Only the presence of the Engineer and his master apprentice convinced the workers that it was still safe to work.
By sunset, they had gouged out a considerable portion of the cliff. The tap-tap-tap of the hammers striking the chisels seemed almost continuous now. More soldiers were pressed into service, and they used empty sacks to sweep away the debris carved out of the solid rock, saving the workers one task.
As soon as it grew dark, Alcinor ordered the torches lit and the hammering continued. In the torchlight, with the shadows flickering through the rock dust, the overhang looked like a demon’s pit.
No man liked to work at night, when the spirits of the evil dead emerged from their subterranean lairs to wander the earth, seeking to steal men’s souls. He heard the faint muttering of prayers to Marduk and Ishtar. Whether the men asked the gods to protect them from the demons, or to keep the cliff from coming down, he didn’t know.
Alcinor paced back and forth the length of the overhang, constantly inspecting the beams. Even in the torchlight, all the logs now showed signs of the weight of the mountain they supported. Alcinor wondered if he should have used more beams. Alcinor knew oak was the strongest of the woods, but even he couldn’t guess if they would hold.
He thanked the gods that he and Jahiri had taken the extra time to get the beams properly positioned. If any of them weren’t perfectly vertical, they would have already split under the weight.
Jahiri did his share, moving from group to group, making sure they chipped where he wanted, and that they did not go too deep into the rock. By midnight, even the presence of their masters couldn’t overcome the fear of the workers. Coated with dust, hands and arms bloody from the flying chips of stone, the men labored on, and by now influenced more by the sight of the armed soldiers than by any idea of possible reward.
Alcinor ordered a rest period, but didn’t let the men leave the overhang. Water and food were brought to them by the soldiers. He knew if his workers ever got out, not even the soldiers could force them back. However the rest helped restore their strength.
The endless hammering soon resumed. Post by post, section by section, the cliff was being weakened. Twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, and five were finished to Jahiri’s satisfaction a little before dawn.
“Time for another rest,” Alcinor said. The men looked ready to drop. Wielding a hammer and chisel continuously was exhausting work, and he didn’t want some weary man to make a mistake. “It’ll be morning soon, and the men will be able to see better.”
With the first rays of dawn, Draelin arrived. “Well?”
One look told Alcinor that Draelin had not slept either. No doubt the soldier had spent the evening preparing defenses against the Elamites.
“Only four more sections to dig out,” Alcinor said. “We should be ready before midmorning.”
“I think that’s all the time you’re going to get,” Draelin answered. “One of my men crept far enough up the Pass to see the enemy’s night camp. He got close enough to make out their fires. I’m just hoping they didn’t see your torches.”
“We’ll be ready.” Alcinor tried to make his voice sound convincing.
“How long will the fire take?”
“Not long.” Alcinor uttered the lie smoothly. He had no idea how long it would take for the fire to weaken the support beams.
Draelin swore at the vague answers, but turned away without another word.
Jahiri moved to Alcinor’s side. He’d been close enough to hear the conversation. “I’ll get the men back to work.”
With the first ray of daylight, the hammering resumed, the men chiseling away at sections four and three. The rock appeared to flake away more easily, which made sense to Alcinor. The overhang had eroded more at this end of the cliff, so the rock must be softer. Which also, he realized, meant it would be weaker.
He glanced up at the massive weight of stone towering above him. Gods above, please hold together a little longer.
Finally Jahiri ordered the workers to move on to the last two sections. Even the men sensed that the end was near, and they managed to keep up the pace, though by now Alcinor knew their arms must be burning in agony from the continuous work.
“I think we’re going to make it.” Jahiri wiped the sweat from his eyes. His face, his entire body was coated with rock dust.
“Well before midmorning,” Alcinor agreed. “We’ll even have time. .”
A loud crack sounded from the rear of the overhang. The noise, like the grinding of two giant stone hammers and magnified by the cliff, panicked the men. They dropped their tools and fled to the entrance, their eyes wide with fear. Only the soldiers, either braver or unaware of how much danger lurked overhead, sprang to their feet and prevented the work crew from scrambling down the rocks and abandoning the site.
Alcinor and Jahiri looked at each other. Alcinor felt his heart racing in his chest, and Jahiri appeared just as frightened. They stood waiting, but no more noise came from the overhang. The rock had shifted, but hadn’t come down and flattened them all. Not yet.
“Let’s see what happened.” Alcinor whirled around and faced the soldiers. “Keep everyone here. Nobody leaves.”
He and Jahiri picked their way through the rock chips beneath their feet, their eyes searching the cliff wall for any sign of weakness. They found it soon enough, between the sixth and seventh posts. A crevice wide as a man’s arm ran up the cliff surface and continued onto the overhang, reaching nearly to the front face before it disappeared.
“Ishtar mother of the gods,” muttered Jahiri. “It’s going to come down any moment.”
Alcinor studied the mass of stone above his head, trying to envision the shifting direction of the various forces struggling within the cliff. “I’m not so sure. The crack has relieved some of the stress in the stone here, but increased it in other places.”
Still, he knew a good breeze on the upper surface might bring it down, but not in the way Alcinor wanted.
“Look at the post!” Jahiri clutched Alcinor’s arm with one hand, while he pointed with the other.
The seventh post had shifted from the vertical by at least a hand’s width. The wood had also cracked, a long seam now showing on the inner side. For a moment, all Alcinor could think of was that the oak logs were strong indeed. He realized he was holding his breath. Drawing air into his chest, he clasped Jahiri on the shoulder.