“By the gods, I thought you’d run us aground!” Harnos, second in command — the entire crew consisted of Hawk Clan soldiers — moved to the stern to take control of the vessel.
But before Sabatu could yield the tiller, the ship lurched to a sudden halt, accompanied by the sound of wood snapping and men tumbling over the thwarts. The noise of the collision rang out loud enough to be heard across the river. The boat had missed running aground on the west bank, but not the tree that had collapsed into river.
“Damn!” This oath came from the crewman nearest the bow. “We’ve hit a tree limb!”
The boat, impaled on the nearly submerged log, lost all headway. The craft’s stern swung toward the center of the channel, twisting the ship’s frame and widening the hole below the water line. Sabatu heard the river rushing into the craft. A moment later, and the cool water reached his feet.
The experienced crew reacted swiftly.
“Curse our luck! The boat’s going down.”
“At least we won’t have far to swim.”
“Take your weapons. We may need them.”
That last came from Harnos, who clearly knew how to think fast. Men swung over the side, clutching bows, quivers, and swords. It took Sabatu a moment longer to realize that the ship was lost, and it was time to leave. The water had already reached his thighs, and the gunwale barely remained above the flowing river.
Snatching up his bow and a quiver of arrows, he stepped into the water and half-swam, half-waded his way to shore. Slipping and sliding on the mud, he struggled to climb the bank and would have fallen back into the river, but a powerful arm reached down, grabbed his tunic, and pulled him out of the water.
“What are we. .”
“Quiet, you fool.” Harnos was definitely a man used to giving orders. “Can’t you hear the horses?”
The soft drum beat of hooves reached Sabatu, and he heard voices, too. With a shock, he realized the words were the language of Elam. They must have cavalry on both sides of the river.
“Follow me,” Harnos whispered. “We’ve got to get away from here. They’ll spot the boat and come looking for us. And if you make another sound, I’ll slit your throat myself.”
Without a glance back, the soldier led the way into the darkness, the rest of the men, as ghostly as shadows, trailing behind in single file. They moved into the trees that followed the river’s course and vanished.
With a muttered curse, Sabatu ran after them, already worried that they had moved out of his sight. But he soon caught up with the last man. After that, he never let them get more than two paces ahead. Soon enough Harnos led his little detachment out of the trees, and into the open fields.
As his fright at nearly drowning passed, Sabatu clenched his teeth in frustration, angered by yet another delay in his journey to Sumer. This disaster might well thwart Sabatu’s chance for revenge. Nor could he complain to Harnos, who had received no special orders concerning the passenger.
Sabatu considered striking out on his own and trying to reach Sumer on foot. But if Chaiyanar’s cavalry had reached this far north and on both sides of the river, there would be little chance to avoid being caught. The city would be ringed with horsemen, and Sabatu would never be able to slip through their cordon.
No, Sabatu realized he would have to stay with these Hawk Clan soldiers. They knew the land, and with luck would eventually get back to Kanesh. There Sabatu would have to plead for passage on another ship. He refused to consider that he might not be able to reach Sumer and miss the opportunity of personally killing Chaiyanar.
The Akkadian boat had run into Elamite cavalry, and an unlucky arrow had sent the vessel to the bottom of the river, leaving Sabatu stumbling through the darkness. Now the best that he could hope for was a quick return to Kanesh, and the chance to board another fighting ship on its way to Sumer.
He had to get there before Chaiyanar captured the city, which he would surely do. Once ensconced within Sumer’s walls, the Grand Commander would be too well protected. No, Sabatu knew that he needed the confusion of the final assault on Sumer to slip amongst the Elamites and take his shot at Chaiyanar. In the chaos of the city’s fall, Sabatu hoped that he could make his way close to his hated torturer. Speaking Elam’s language should be enough to open the way.
One shot, that’s all he prayed for. If he could put an arrow into Chaiyanar, Sabatu would thank the gods and gladly fall on his sword.
Chapter 18
Fifty-six days after Orodes cut through his first pile of rubble, and the same day as Alcinor brought down the cliffs and blocked the Jkarian Pass, Orodes clung to his perch atop a boulder and stared at the landscape before him. For once, he could see something besides another god-cursed winding and narrow trail, a heap of rocks, or a gaping chasm.
The long days of endless labor in the mountain’s foothills had drained both his strength and his energy. By now he no longer cared about Lady Trella, Akkad, or even the coming Elamite invasion. All that remained was a dogged determination to complete a task, and prove once again that Orodes of Akkad was not only the richest man in the city, but also its greatest miner.
Even so, he knew that he would have failed, except that as he and his men had worked their way farther south, the hills and cliffs had gradually diminished in size. And the obstacles, though more frequent, had decreased in both height and the weight of rock that needed to be cleared. Now, looking ahead, Orodes saw the end to his labor, less than a mile away.
He glimpsed something else in the distance. A patch of blue glistened under the sun. Wrinkling his nose, Orodes caught the scent of the Great Sea. He heaved a vast sigh of relief. He had done it. Despite all the obstacles the mountain gods had heaped in his path, Orodes had vanquished them all. He took another, deeper breath of the salt-scented air. Yes, the end of his journey was in sight.
Luka joined him atop the boulder, wriggling his way to the edge. “I told you it was here! I told you.”
“You’re sure this is the last one?” Orodes thought he could follow the trail through the end of the hills, but he couldn’t be certain.
“Yes, this is it.” Luka pointed to a pair of grooves scratched on the rock beside them. “This is the mark I made when I returned from the Sea. You did it, Orodes, you did it!”
Orodes resisted the temptation to take all the glory for himself. Every man in his crew had worked hard, of course, but Orodes knew no other man — miner, builder, or digger, not even Master Engineer Alcinor — in the Land Between the Rivers could have accomplished what Orodes had done, not in so short a time.
“We did, indeed, Luka.” Orodes accepted Luka’s words of praise, as he stretched out his arm to the south. “So that is the beach itself?”
“No, you can’t see it from here. But when you emerge from the hills, there is about three hundred paces of sandy grassland, then about another hundred or more paces of sand to the water’s edge.”
All Orodes could spy from here was the green strip of earth, and the small patch of blue water. But the Great Sea waited just beyond, no doubt about that.
“Pick a few men and go take a look,” Orodes ordered. “Make sure no one sees you. The soldiers will be here by morning, and the more we know about what awaits them the better.”
The impatient horsemen in the vanguard of the cavalry had caught up with Orodes and his men eight days ago. After wasting half a morning answering foolish questions and watching his men get distracted, he’d told Hathor and King Naxos to remain a full day behind.