But they, too, had no time. Hathor’s men tore into the gap between the surf and the boats resting high on the beach, the Akkadian horses kicking up great gouts of sand. Lances and arrows flew through the air, striking down any man that moved.
This was not battle, just the easy slaughter of the ships’ crews, most of whom knew little about fighting. Some Elamites fled up the beach, gaining a few more moments of life before the horsemen rode them down. Others dashed into the surf, but the waves pushed them back, and the Akkadian bowmen finished them off.
The Akkadians had their orders. Kill everyone in their path. Daro wanted all those sailors dead, and Hathor had issued another order to his commanders — thrust a lance into every throat. None of their foes could be allowed to fake death, or hide beneath the bodies of others.
Daro reached the first of the boats, his horse splashing in the wet sand behind the craft. He continued on, until he’d ridden past every one of the vessels, sword in hand and peering into each one, to make sure no Elamite sailors could get a craft into the water. He ignored the clash of weapons and cries of the dying that continued further up the beach, where Naxos and his men finished hunting down the last of the invaders.
Daro finished his quick examination of the boats. By then, his one hundred and twenty Akkadian bowmen had arrived and surrounded the ships. Though all of them knew how to ride, they were not experienced horse fighters, and Hathor had ordered them to the rear.
Daro hadn’t minded. The arrangement meant that none of his carefully selected archers, all of whom had experience on river boats, had risked an injury in the fighting.
As the first of his men dismounted, Daro sent them onboard the vessels, to make sure no Elamites hid among the ballast. Meanwhile, he selected the three largest and sturdiest boats, and ordered them to be dragged closer to the water. Daro wanted them ready to be launched at a moment’s notice.
Each boat he selected stretched longer than any river boat in Yavtar’s fleet, with a wider beam and taller sides as well. All three looked sturdily built, strong enough to withstand the waves of the Great Sea. Unlike the clumsy Apikin, Daro recalled, as he nodded in satisfaction.
“Leave the rest of the boats where they are, but stave out the bottoms. Make sure none of them ever goes to sea again. Keep the hulls intact, but rip out every plank and board within. Collect every paddle, rope, and sail, too. We’ll need them.”
By now all of Daro’s bowmen had reached the water’s edge. He had more orders for them. Their supply of extra bows and shafts, laboriously transported all the way from Akkad, were to be divided up and loaded onboard the three captured craft.
That finished, his bowmen formed a line to carry water skins, food, and anything else needed to keep the three boats afloat and ready to fight. Fortunately, the stacks of fresh supplies that covered the beach, intended to support the Elamite army at Sumer, provided everything Daro needed for his small force, and in more than sufficient quantity.
Next he divided up his men, forty to each ship. That was a large contingent, but since the boats carried no cargo, there should be just enough room for that many to work the ship and fight. With so many extra men plying the oars, the boats would race through the sea, faster than any cargo vessel.
Hathor rode up just as the initial frenzy of loading supplies and weapons ended. “I see you found more boats than you expected.”
Daro grinned. “These three,” he pointed toward the boats now resting on the wet sand, “are bigger and better than anything I expected. My sailors will need to learn how to handle ships this size.”
“Well, don’t drown them all at once.” Hathor gestured toward the cavalry. “Naxos is already regrouping the men. We’re pushing on ahead. There’s still plenty of daylight left, and Naxos doesn’t want to risk anyone getting by us after dark.”
“Any word on the Elamites?”
Hathor nodded. “Yes, the last of the army passed through here six days ago. By now, the entire army is outside Sumer.”
Sumer lay less than a full day of hard riding from here.
“Leave us a few horses,” Daro said, “so we can get word to you if any more Elamites show up.”
“I’ll do better than that. Naxos wanted to take all the extra horses with us, but he agreed you can have five. I told him it would look odd if someone shows up and there were no horses about.”
Sixteen horses had been in a rope corral, which had somehow remained intact.
“Good. We can use them to drag the bodies away.”
“I never thought about the dead bodies.” Hathor shook his head. “There’s always something you don’t think of, isn’t there?”
“Well, I can’t leave them lying about. No boat master with eyes in his head would land his ship on a battlefield.”
“I’ll leave you the prisoners we found. We took two men alive, and the older one looks like some kind of merchant or trader. See what you can wring out of them. If it’s anything useful, send word.” Hathor whirled his horse around. “I’ve got to get back to Naxos. He wants me to stay close, so he can keep an eye on me.”
“Don’t forget these.” Daro handed him the two pennants that had flown over the camp. “My men picked them up. They’re a little dirty, but you might find a use for them.”
“Ah, good idea.” Hathor reached down and grasped the pennants. “And to think that Yavtar told me you couldn’t find your prick in the dark.”
Daro laughed. “Good hunting, Hathor.”
With a wave, the Egyptian touched his heels to his horse and rode off in a flurry of sand.
In moments, the last of the cavalry, now moving at a respectable canter, disappeared behind the sand dunes to the west. Four of Daro’s men arrived, pulling along two prisoners at the end of a rope, their hands bound before them. His bowmen looked annoyed, no doubt unwilling to be guarding insignificant prisoners.
Daro glanced at the two captured men. Both had blood splattered over their tunics, though neither appeared to have more than minor injuries. Neither bothered to keep up any pretense of courage. Fear gripped them both, and the older one couldn’t control the occasional shiver that made his arms tremble.
“Keep them apart,” Daro ordered. He had no time for them now. “Make sure they don’t talk or escape.”
He climbed into one of the beached boats, and gazed around the cove. Bodies littered the beach, and the roiled sand would tell anyone at a glance that a battle had been fought here. The dead needed to be concealed. The best place for them would be the Great Sea, but the bodies would soon wash up on shore, or float along the coast, as likely toward any approaching Elamite ship as not.
Daro sighed. Lifting his eyes from the shoreline, he stared across the grassy belt that butted up against the low hills, about five hundred paces away. Damn the gods, why couldn’t the camp have been closer to the hills.
“Get all the ropes you can find, and bring up the horses. We’re going to drag the dead inland, behind the grass and those hills.”
Months ago, at Eskkar’s war council in Akkad, Daro had first learned of the daring plan to save Sumer. Yavtar had also attended the meeting. The old sailor had provided estimates of the numbers of boats that would be needed to keep the Elamite supplies flowing until Sumer could be taken.
The discussion of the coastal shipping had given Yavtar an idea to strike a hard blow against the enemy. Seize a few boats, destroy the rest of them, and use the captured ships to patrol the sea and prevent further supplies from landing. If successful, the lack of supplies would help weaken the invading enemy.
The war council talked about such a venture for most of the day, before Eskkar agreed to it. Daro, the logical choice for such a daring plan, had joined Orodes’s expedition, commanding the small force of soldiers accompanying the Master Miner. Now Daro, by patrolling the seacoast, would try to help King Naxos and Hathor in their coming fight. Unlike the rest of the cavalry force, Daro had brought with him a troop of one hundred and twenty archers, almost all of them with some experience on Akkad’s fighting river boats.