Chaiyanar’s men tried to put out the fires and salvage what they could, but the heat drove them back. Of course there was no water to douse the flames. The largest bonfires would smolder long into the night. Whatever remained beneath the ashes would be useless, melted and twisted by the heat. His men had lost almost all their weapons, tools, and lumber, much of it irreplaceable.
By the time Chaiyanar had organized the rest of his horsemen, the cowardly Akkadians had fled to the south, crossed the river, and jeered at his men from the opposite bank. Then they rode off into the west, no doubt boasting about their success.
Now Chaiyanar had to deal with the mess. The cursed Akkadians had set back his schedule for capturing Sumer. Worse, he now had a large enemy contingent to deal with. This was no mere raid, to harry his efforts. With a force that size, he knew the Akkadians would be back, and they would seek to break the siege. He wondered why the Akkadians hadn’t persisted in their attack, instead of fleeing south at the first sign of opposition.
Fortunately, he yet had plenty of soldiers left. His cavalry would ring the doomed city, and the next time the Akkadian filth returned, he would be ready for them. Once the city fell, he would hunt down the Akkadians and slaughter them to the last man, to avenge today’s losses. There would be none of the usual assimilation of conquered soldiers. The Akkadian victory today would not be allowed to infect his army.
Still, he would need new supplies. Chaiyanar remembered the supply train that had gone south this morning. His pack handlers probably had run straight into the approaching horsemen. By now the bodies of the guards, porters, handlers, and, much more important, all the pack animals littered the way to the supply cove.
The more Chaiyanar thought about his situation, the angrier he grew. Damn the gods, he needed the supplies arriving each day from Sushan. He turned to one of his cavalry commanders.
“Take a thousand riders and as many extra horses as you need, and ride to the cove. Escort all the supplies you find here at once. Send word back to Sushan that we’ll need more food, weapons, and grain. Don’t forget to warn the commander at the cove about the Akkadians. Have the ships put to sea at the first sign of trouble.”
“Yes, Lord Chaiyanar. At once.”
The man wheeled his horse around and galloped off, no doubt glad to be away from his grim commander.
Chaiyanar turned toward the leader of his cavalry. “You’d better send word to the horse camp. If the Akkadians know about it, they may be headed there.”
The man blanched. He’d forgotten about the verdant valley where many of the Elamite cavalry had encamped, to have access to food and water for the horses.
‘Yes, Grand Commander!” The man started bellowing orders to his men.
If the filthy Akkadians rode straight to the camp, they would fall upon a small force of Elamite cavalry with as much surprise as the Akkadians had delivered at Sumer.
Chaiyanar turned his gaze back to Sumer’s walls. He hadn’t expected the haughty men from Isin and Akkad to ride to Sumer’s aid. After all, the two cities had fought a bloody war ten years ago. Still, if Eskkar’s horsemen were this far south, then Akkad itself would be undermanned. Unless Eskkar had some other trick planned for Lord Modran, who should even now be moving toward Akkad.
Thoughts about Lord Modran enraged Chaiyanar even more. If Modran could manage to capture Akkad before Chaiyanar could take Sumer, then Modran might lead his troops down to take command of the Sumerian assault. That would mean disaster and humiliation for Chaiyanar. King Shirudukh might even award Sumer to Modran.
Chaiyanar decided to redouble his efforts to take Sumer, no matter how many lives it cost.
“Damn all the gods, you’ll suffer for this, Eskkar of Akkad!”
Chapter 24
As soon as the men regrouped on the west bank of the Tigris, Hathor dispatched the messengers. Two groups of four men, each rider leading an extra horse, dashed off to the northwest, angling apart as they rode. They would take different routes to the same destination, an uninhabited strip of rocky watershed that stretched along one of the Tigris’s many tributaries.
One of Yavtar’s messenger boats would be waiting there, ready to carry the news of Hathor’s activities to the north. The extra horses should allow them to escape any Elamite war parties they might encounter. At least one of the riders had to get through. The survival of Hathor’s force depended on making contact with Yavtar’s fleet.
While Hathor dispatched the men, Naxos sent out scouts ahead of the Akkadian cavalry and on either flank. Hathor and Naxos then led their force north, in three main columns, always keeping the Tigris on their right.
They rode hard, pushing the horses. The animals hadn’t had much work during the long and plodding journey through the mountains, so they remained fresh enough. However, there had been little forage in the mountains, and Hathor’s men had emptied the last of their grains sacks just before they arrived at the cove.
The Elamite supplies at the landing site had provided each horse a few mouthfuls of grain, but the creatures needed to graze to maintain their strength.
“Do you think the Elamites will follow?” Naxos had to raise his voice to be heard over the drumming hoof beats.
“They’ll be fools if they don’t,” Hathor replied. “What else are they going to do with their cavalry?”
The Elamite cavalry at Sumer numbered at least five or six thousand horsemen, a force fully equal to the Akkadians. Hathor had to engage and destroy as much of that force as he could, if the siege of Sumer were to be broken. But first the Akkadians needed supplies and some fresh horses.
By mid afternoon they were almost twenty miles from Sumer. They turned west, following a small branch of the Tigris. A mile later, they crested a low hill, and saw a wide valley of rich farmland ahead.
Naxos took one look at the bright green grass and grinned. Three separate horse herds grazed placidly in the warm sun. “At the gallop, men,” he shouted, and kicked his horse to the forefront.
The men spread out into a line of battle, stringing bows as they rode. Now the earth shook under the hooves of the horses, and the din of hoof beats overwhelmed the shouts of the riders.
The Elamites had quartered at least a thousand cavalrymen in the valley, for the same reason that drew the Akkadians. The thick grasslands and pastures, watered by a wide stream, could easily support a large number of horses. The Elamites planned to feed and rest part of their horses there for a few days. Then the detachment would return to Sumer, while another force arrived to take advantage of the plentiful grazing.
“They must not have gotten word from Sumer yet,” Hathor shouted, over the pounding of the horses.
The Elamites saw them coming, but even so they were slow to react. Men dashed about, gathering their weapons or chasing after their mounts. But the war cries of the Akkadians, mixed with blasts from the ram’s horn, affected the enemy horses. They milled about, many eluding capture and adding to the confusion.
By then it didn’t matter. The Akkadians, scattered over a wide area, overran the enemy’s main encampment. Attacking at full speed, nothing could stop the assault. The Elamites had no time to prepare a defense.
The killing began. Once again, the Akkadians used overwhelming force against a much smaller number of the enemy. While the surprise might not be as complete, the turmoil kept the Elamites from putting up any real resistance. Those who could reach a horse, fled. The rest were ridden down and killed, in groups of twos and threes.
The fight lasted longer than the one at Sumer, and the Akkadians suffered more than a few causalities, but the enemy lost more than half their men before the remainder escaped. Even as the last of the killing ended, Hathor swung down from his horse in front of the largest farmhouse.