This time the Akkadians had the range, and almost all arrows struck home against the enemy cavalry just beginning to surge forward. Horses and men went down, and the shrill shrieks of the wounded animals overpowered the shouts and screams of their riders.
All the same, the charge was underway, urged on by the Elamite commanders. The enemy horsemen galloped over and around their dead and dying, or trampled them underfoot. The protruding Akkadian arrows slowed the enemy riders, as the horses sought to avoid stepping on those as well. Yet more and more horsemen flooded up the trail, like a rising river, the shouts from their riders driving the horses forward.
The Akkadians ignored the mass of horses rushing toward them. Arrows flew as fast as each archer could work his bow, and Eskkar saw their left arms lowering as the enemy drew closer, until they were shooting straight down the slope. For a moment, Eskkar wondered if the Elamites could ride through the flights of missiles, but then Muta’s men launched their shafts and increased the carnage. Screams from the wounded or dying horses added to the confusion, and the injured animals fought their riders.
The charge broke. Hundreds of the enemy, both horse and rider, had taken more than one shaft. Now many Elamites dragged on their halter ropes, turning their mounts around, unwilling to ride into the certain death that never ceased streaking toward them. And they could see the four ranks of spearmen waiting patiently, the spears glinting in the sunlight. Even as the Elamites tried to fall back, the Akkadians continued to shoot, every archer working his bow as fast as he could.
The retreat turned into a rout, and with what seemed like a single motion, every horse turned toward the rear. The deadly shafts continued seeking out their targets until the last fleeing Elamite was out of range.
“Halt!” Mitrac’s drummer sounded the notes that told the bowmen to stop.
Eskkar watched as the men lowered their bows. Some archers sank to their knees, too exhausted to stand. It didn’t matter. The cheers sounded from the infantry, as they rose up from behind their shield wall. The Elamites had been driven back.
Examining the slope, Eskkar observed that no enemy rider had reached within fifty paces of the Akkadian front line. A few riderless horses still milled about, but most of those had retreated back down the Pass. Already he saw a handful of the slingers darting forward, trying to catch as many of the loose animals as they could.
The cheering grew even louder, and finally the noise turned into a single word that made Eskkar glance about in astonishment.
“Eskkar! Eskkar! Eskkar!”
The men were giving him credit for the victory, though he had done nothing but stand there and watch the battle. This was, Eskkar realized, one of those moments when he had to reach out to his men. He drew his sword and held up his arms, turning from side to side to face those around him.
“Men of Akkad!” Another roar greeted his words. “You’ve won a great victory, but the fight is not over. You will be challenged again, but again we will stand firm against them, like the very walls of Akkad. The enemy will not pass!”
Another roar went up, a crescendo of sound that boomed and echoed against the walls and hurled itself down the slope. The infantry banged their spears against their shields, adding to the din. Half a mile away, the exhausted enemy turned to stare at the Akkadian battle line even as they heard the noise that marked their defeat. The first battle of the Dellen Pass had ended.
Chapter 28
Lord Modran’s rage had left him speechless. The fleeing soldiers had finally halted their retreat. In their flight, the demoralized Elamites pushed back upon the vast number of men still moving up from the rear, trying to join the battle. Once again more than half a mile separated the two armies, and but now confusion mixed with shocked surprise swept through the long column that comprised his soldiers.
As soon as the chaos ended, Lord Modran had summoned his senior commanders. They stood before their leader, eyes downcast, stunned looks on their faces. Hundreds of his men, perhaps thousands, had been slain before his eyes, and without ever coming to grips with the jeering Akkadians. Modran had lost men before, but never so many so quickly, and never in defeat.
General Martiya pushed through the silent ranks, shoving aside any man that blocked his path. A thin trickle of blood ran down his cheek. “Where did they get so many bowmen? You told us Akkad had less than a thousand archers!”
Modran clenched his teeth at Martiya’s boldness. But now was not the time to confront his senior commander’s rage. “That’s what our spies said.”
“Then our spies are fools, or men who can’t count above ten. I counted almost two thousand archers loosing at us. And the arrows. They never ran out of arrows!”
“They can’t have many left,” Modran said. “The next attack will break their ranks. Once we come to grips with them. .”
Martiya shook his head so hard that some of the blood on his cheek flew off. “Even now, men continue to reinforce the Akkadians. Not soldiers, but laborers carrying packs or water skins or weapons. During the fight, I saw them arriving, delivering more stocks of arrows to their archers. And more porters still come down the slope. They’re not going to run out of arrows, My Lord.”
“We’ll need to build a shield wall, so our own bowmen can close with them. Then we can attack.”
Martiya opened his mouth, then closed it. He took a deep breath. “My Lord, there are almost no trees in the Pass. To construct shield walls, we’ll have to use every shield we have. That will take time to collect and fasten them together.”
Modran eyed his commanders. He saw the defeat in their eyes, and realized they were in no mood to launch another attack today. “Very well. We’ll have to clear away the bodies anyway. We’ll attack again at dawn. Meanwhile, get every man with a shield and send them to the front. And we’ll hold the cavalry in reserve. We won’t break through Eskkar’s line with cavalry, not as long as he has those bowmen.”
Once the first few horses went down in the narrow confines of the Pass, their carcasses slowed the momentum of any charge. Wounded animals caused even more chaos, running about in their fright. In one action, thousands of dead men and animals already littered the slope between the two armies.
Martiya turned to the commanders, and started giving orders. In two’s and three’s, they moved off, glad to be away from their angry general. At last only he and Modran remained.
“We were warned about the Akkadian bowmen,” Martiya said. “Eskkar must have stripped the city to bring so many here. This is no holding action, no attempt to delay our passage. He’s not going to fight us from Akkad’s walls. He’s brought the walls to the Dellen Pass. He’s chosen to challenge us here, to the death. If Eskkar tries to retreat, he knows our cavalry will slaughter his entire army, bowmen or not.”
“That means the city will be undefended. And we outnumber the Akkadians here at least six to one. Once we break through, they will have nothing left to face us.”
Nevertheless, Modran didn’t like the idea of an undefended Akkad. If Chaiyanar learned Akkad’s defenses were weak, he might move his forces north toward Akkad at once, possibly even capture it. That humiliation would be worse than anything Modran could imagine.
“I don’t have the body count yet, My Lord, but we’ve lost at least fifteen hundred dead, maybe more, and more than a thousand wounded. And hundreds of horses, too. The Akkadian position is strong. We may lose half our men breaking through, and it may take days. Before we attack again, we’ll need every last man ready to fight. We’re going to need more supplies, too, My Lord. Food, water, perhaps even more men.”