For each trip, Eskkar knew almost as much water would be wasted as reached the Elamite camp. Skins would leak or break, reducing the amount of water available. There was just no way to supply thirty thousand men with enough water over that distance. A shortage of water would soon be Lord Modran’s most pressing problem.
Meanwhile, the stream where Eskkar and Alexar’s army had camped the night before, close to the mouth of the Dellen Pass and over thirty miles to the rear, provided all the water the Akkadians needed. Porters and liverymen would deliver fresh water skins to Eskkar’s army every day, from dawn to dusk. But if the Elamites wanted to reach the next source of water along their invasion route, they would first have to defeat the Akkad’s forces.
Food, except for a few mountain goats, was nonexistent in the mountains. The invaders would have carried enough provisions with them to get through the Pass, and perhaps a few days after that. Their limited supplies of food and water meant they would have to get through as quickly as possible. Every day that Eskkar’s men could delay the enemy’s advance would make them that much weaker.
Nor was there much grass for the Elamite cavalry. No army carried enough grain to feed so many mounts. The animals needed to graze, and hardly any grass grew in the rocky and shallow soil of the Dellen Pass. Eskkar guessed that the enemy horses had already started to feel the first pangs of hunger and thirst.
Unless the Elamites turned back, they would have to break through Eskkar’s position if they wanted food and water. However he had no intention of letting them do that. He would fight them here, in the mountains, on a battleground that he had chosen, until the last man. Even if the invaders overran his position, every enemy soldier that Eskkar could kill here in the Pass would add a bit more strength to Akkad and its remaining defenders.
All the pieces, laboriously planned over the last year, were now in place. The only task that remained was for Eskkar and his men to hold back the onslaught.
Eskkar touched his heels to A-tuku, and paced the horse toward the southern cliff wall. The impassable, sheer cliff rose several hundred paces high. Back and forth he rode, studying the rock face, making certain once again that there was no way his position could be flanked from that side.
Tugging on the halter, he guided his mount toward the northern wall. On his last visit to the site, Eskkar had measured the distance himself, just to be sure. From north to south, the width of the Pass was fewer than three hundred paces, less than a quarter of a mile. A narrower opening would have been even better, but this location had its advantages. No battleground, Eskkar knew, was ever perfect.
At the northern side, gigantic boulders lay strewn about the base of the cliff wall, and rising up into cliffs that grew ever taller until they backed into the mountain wall itself. On his first visit, Eskkar and five of his guards had spent most of a day wandering through the substantial chunks of rocks and pieces of the cliff wall.
He learned that a man on foot could, with difficulty and enough time, make his way through the maze, climbing over and squeezing around the boulders. But one of his guards sprained an ankle, and another managed to scrape his knee so hard that it required bandaging. For soldiers carrying shields or bows, it would be even more arduous. The Elamites would try it, of course, but Eskkar felt confident he had the answer to that.
Guiding A-tuku away from the rocks, Eskkar returned to the center of the Pass. A small cairn of stones marked the spot. He halted his horse, and looked back up the trail that had brought him to this place. The ground continued to slope upwards for just over two hundred paces, before it flattened out and disappeared behind a curve in the Pass.
Shifting his gaze to the east, Eskkar stared down the slope, at the path the Elamites would have to take. Yes, this place would do very well for a fight to the death.
Eskkar dismounted and turned A-tuku over to one of his guards, gulped some water, and walked back to the center of the Pass.
Drakis now waited there, sitting on the cairn. He pointed downward with his finger. “This is where we think the first battle line should be, Captain. The men can line up in good formation, and it’s nearly level from side to side.”
The first row would be the infantry, Akkad’s spearmen, at least four rows deep. Twenty paces behind them would stand the archers, three rows deep. Even at close range, the bowmen would take advantage of their slightly higher position on the slope to shoot over the heads of the infantry.
With the extra height, the Akkadian archers, shooting downhill, should be able to outrange any Elamite bowmen. Mitrac’s bowmen would loose six or seven volleys, which meant thousands of arrows, before the attackers could reply.
The third Akkadian battle line consisted of Muta’s cavalry. Their task would be to hurl back any Elamites who broke through the first two ranks. Even so, most of the cavalry would fight on foot, using their smaller bows to augment the Akkadian archers, or their swords to reinforce the spearmen.
In planning for this battle, Eskkar and his commanders quickly realized that a large number of cavalry wouldn’t be that useful in the Dellen Pass, and would merely create another supply problem. That decision had freed up the rest of the Akkadian cavalry. Hathor now led those men, along with Isin’s forces, in their campaign against Grand Commander Chaiyanar and the Elamites attacking Sumer.
Eskkar had brought with him only enough horsemen to help hold the line, and to cover any retreat. Still, if Modran’s soldiers forced the Akkadians to withdraw, Eskkar knew that any attempt to fall back would likely turn into a rout. If the nearly ten thousand enemy cavalry joined the attack, Muta’s men would be overwhelmed and cut to pieces.
To stop the invaders, Eskkar had twenty-four hundred infantry men, sixteen hundred bowmen, eighteen hundred cavalry, and six hundred slingers. All in all, sixty-four hundred Akkadians would have to hold off more than twenty-five, and perhaps as many as thirty thousand Elamites. Those were daunting numbers, but at least here, in the Pass, Modran’s cavalry would be almost useless.
Eskkar took one last glance around, and nodded in satisfaction. The time had come to talk to the prisoner. He strode over to where the captured Elamite sat on the ground, guarded by two soldiers. Drakis followed. Muta was already there, glowering at the captive. Slight of build, dried blood covered the left side of the man’s face. His fear showed by the trembling of his hands and lips.
“Drakis, translate my words exactly.”
Both Eskkar and Trella had insisted that all the senior commanders learn at least the rudiments of the main Elamite language. Drakis, because of his good grasp of several dialects spoken in the Land Between the Rivers, had become fluent in the prisoner’s language.
Eskkar stopped less than a pace away from the captive, close enough to smell the man’s fear. “Do you know who I am?”
The Elamite had to swallow before he could get out the words. “No, Master.”
“My name is Eskkar, and I’m the King of Akkad, the city you came here to loot and destroy.”
The man flinched at hearing the name. “Master, I’m just a soldier. I was ordered. .”
“I want to learn everything you know about your army, and I may want to send a message to Lord Modran. So I’ll give you one chance to talk. If you tell me the truth, you may yet live to carry that message. If I think you’re lying, or holding anything back, I’ll have every bone in your body broken, cut out your tongue, then tie you to a horse and send you back to Modran as a warning. Do you understand?”
Eskkar’s size and bulk, towering over the helpless prisoner, would have frightened a much stronger man. “Yes, Lord. I’ll tell you everything I know.”
The interrogation proceeded, with Drakis and Eskkar asking questions and demanding answers so fast that the Elamite had no time to make up a good lie.