Modran ground his teeth. He would look like a fool if he sent word back through the Pass that he needed more men and supplies to brush aside the Akkadians blocking his path. Already he could hear King Shirudukh’s contemptuous words.
Still, better to ask for the supplies now. His army hadn’t planned to spend any length of time in these mountains. Food and water would soon be in short supply. Once his men broke through, the request for extra supplies would mean nothing.
Modran glanced around and saw his clerks standing nearby, nervous expressions on their faces. “All right. I’ll send messengers back to Zanbil, and order them to send as much food and water as they can, and to start collecting all the wood they can find. We’ll make shields for our men. Meanwhile, drag those dead horses out of the pass. The men can eat them if they get hungry.”
Raw horse meat didn’t appeal to Martiya, but then he wouldn’t be eating any of it. He still had plenty of good food in his personal supply. “We need to clear the path anyway, My Lord. But even so, I don’t think we’ll be ready by dawn tomorrow.”
Modran had reached the same conclusion, though he refused to admit it yet. “See to it, then.”
“Just make it clear, My Lord, to our men at Zanbil that we require all the water skins and food they can carry, as well as any extra shafts for the bowmen. We may be here longer than a day or two.”
The small village of Zanbil, just a few miles east of the mountains, had served as the collection and supply depot for Modran’s army. Supplies would have continued to flow into the village, awaiting word from Lord Modran that the Elamite army had crossed the mountains and moved toward Akkad.
Modran’s teeth ground together. He hated the idea of looking up the Pass and watching Eskkar’s battle line for even one more day. “Zanbil will send everything they have, or I’ll order the village burnt to the ground and kill every man in it.”
“I wonder what other surprises this Eskkar has for us.” Martiya rubbed his jaw, and for the first time, noticed the blood.
“An Akkadian’s arrow?”
“No, My Lord. One of our men nearly poked my eye out with a sword in his rush to get out of range.”
Modran grunted at the idea of losing his top commander to some lowly, panicked soldier. He took a deep breath, and tried to regain his habitual calm. “We’ll get through this, Martiya. Use whatever time it takes to get the men ready. What about those boulders on the right side of the Pass? Can we get our men through them?”
“Perhaps. If we attack there in force we might be able to get through,” Martiya said. “If we could get a few hundred men on their flank, we could break their line. I’ll send some scouts to see if there’s a way.”
“Find a path. The longer Eskkar holds us up, the harder it will be to brush him aside.”
As soon as Eskkar realized the Elamites weren’t going to attack again today, he told his commanders to stand down the men. Alexar kept one rank of spearmen in place, just in case, and Mitrac did the same with his bowmen. The rest of the soldiers broke ranks. Some just slumped to the hard ground, too tired to move. Others sought out the water skins, or trotted off to the canyon’s walls to relieve themselves.
A babble of voices filled the Pass, as the amazed soldiers examined the dead bodies stretching from one side of the cliffs to the other. Eskkar understood their emotions. They’d just fought and survived a bloody battle, and the sound of their own voices helped reassure them that they were still alive.
He turned away from the battlefield, and glanced up the slope. The porters and bearers from Akkad continued to arrive, their eyes wide with fear, and all of them struggling under their goods. Everyone rushed to deliver their burden and depart.
One particular group caught Eskkar’s eye, and he waved his arm in recognition. Builders, carrying their tools, and laborers grunting under the weight of planks. The man in charge saw Eskkar’s gesture and paced his horse toward the King.
“Greetings, My Lord.”
“Good to see you again, Franar,” Eskkar said. Franar was one of Corio’s younger sons.
“I’m sorry for arriving so late, King Eskkar,” Franar said. “But I did not want my men to get separated. It would have been too easy for one or two to drop out or disappear, and then all my work might have been wasted. They’re as scared as rabbits, and so am I.”
“You’ve come just in time,” Eskkar said. “We’ve driven off their first attack, but tomorrow they’ll be back, and in greater force.”
“Then I’ll set my men to work, My Lord,” Franar replied. “We’ve brought torches, and if necessary we’ll work through the night. I’m sure every one of my men will be eager to leave the Dellen Pass as soon as possible and get back to Akkad.”
Eskkar nodded. The men would be glad to rush home, all the while praying to every god they could think of that they reached the safety of the city in case the Elamites broke through.
“Then I’ll leave you to your work, Franar. When you return to Akkad, give my thanks to your father.”
Eskkar found Alexar, Drakis, and Mitrac waiting for him. Shappa and Muta joined them a few moments later. The Akkadian leaders moved away from the ranks, to plan for the next battle. When they were settled on the ground, Eskkar turned to Alexar. “How many did we lose?”
“Not many, Captain.” Alexar’s voice held a hint of pride. “Sixteen spearmen were struck by arrows, seven dead. Mitrac lost just over twenty dead, or wounded and unable to fight. Shappa had twelve killed and five wounded. Muta had three men wounded.”
Insignificant losses, compared to the dead and dying Elamites scattered the length of the slope. Eskkar glanced at his commanders. “Next time we won’t be so lucky. Send any wounded who can travel back to Akkad with the supply men. Give them the horses we captured.”
Those too injured to travel would have to take their chances. Whether they lived or died depended on the gods. At least they would have food and water to ease their suffering.
“Now, let’s talk about the battle. You first, Shappa.” As always, Eskkar started with his youngest commander. He’d learned years ago that allowed the younger commanders to speak freely, without worrying about contradicting the more senior commanders.
“My men have worked our way all through the rocks, Captain,” Shappa began. “We know the paths the Elamites will have to take. This time they only sent a few into the rocks, and those struggled until we drove them off. We didn’t have much time to prepare, but the hammers and chisels we need have just arrived. We’ll start carving out footholds and scaling the rocks. My slingers and bowmen should be dug in and ready by midday.”
In the last year, at Eskkar’s suggestion, the slingers had added a new weapon to their capabilities. A small bow, smaller even than those of the Akkadian cavalry, had become the primary weapon of over two hundred slingers. The rocks and boulders of Eskkar’s left flank favored such a small weapon, intended to be used only at close range. Its smaller size made it easier to use in the rocky confines, and the bearer did not need to expose too much of himself to utilize it.
“You will have your men in the rocks tonight?” Eskkar didn’t think the enemy would try that tactic soon, but he didn’t intend to take any chances.
“My men will move into the rocks as soon as it gets dark,” Shappa said. “I’ll have thirty scouts out in the Pass, in case any Elamites try to sneak up on our position. We’ll give you plenty of warning if they do.”
“Good.” Eskkar turned to Mitrac. “Your men fought well today. Give them my thanks. Do you have sufficient arrows for the next attack?”
“Yes, Captain. Bundles continue to arrive, and we’ve almost as many shafts as we had at the start of today’s battle.”
“Franar and his builders are here. He says he will construct the fighting platforms by midmorning. You will have to man those as well.”
Eskkar had wanted to anchor the two flanks of his infantry line. Corio, Franar’s father, had suggested building a small fighting platform at either end. The wooden structure, carried plank by plank up into the Pass by Franar’s workers, would provide an elevated position for twenty archers in each structure. Saw-tooth boards at the top would allow the bowmen some measure of protection and enable them to shoot arrows at any threat to the infantry’s flanks.