The small force of warriors would be no match for the vast cavalry of the enemy, so careful timing would be required to avoid early discovery. Again and again, Sargon studied the maps, and satisfied himself that the warriors could, in fact, maintain the pace that they had set for themselves. And that they understood the necessity of following the plan. Then he made sure that every warrior had whatever he needed to ride to war. No man would lack a good horse or fine weapons.
“Remember,” Eskkar had said to Bekka and Subutai at their last meeting, “you do not need to face them in battle. You will strike a heavy blow just by disrupting their supply lines and stopping the flow of men into the Dellen Pass.”
Both Subutai and Bekka had nodded gravely, too polite to contradict Akkad’s leader. Sargon soon realized that neither clan chief intended to accept such a minor role. When the warriors of the steppes went to war, they expected blood to flow. To avoid conflict with an enemy, despite its greater numbers, did not fit into their own designs.
Just into his eighteenth season, Sargon had also not corrected his father. Eskkar might have grown up in the clan, but Sargon had lived and worked side by side with clan leaders for the last few years. By now he knew more about their way of life, including the ways of their leaders, than his father ever learned.
Nevertheless, Sargon always deferred to his father. Only when asked did Sargon offer his opinions or suggestions. Over time, as the boy-turned-warrior showed his wisdom, Eskkar relied more and more on his son’s advice. Little by little, Eskkar gave Sargon more authority to deal with the clans. With sage counsel from Subutai and Bekka, Sargon had fulfilled that task well beyond Eskkar’s expectations.
Sargon had also developed lasting friendships with many of the chiefs from both clans which gave him a depth of knowledge about the warriors and their ways. And they, in their turn, had come to trust Sargon more and more. He might be the son of the King of Akkad, but in their eyes, Sargon remained a warrior first, and an Akkadian second.
A year ago, Chief Bekka had formally adopted Sargon into his Clan, to the cheers of the Alur Meriki people and the approval of his parents.
Father and son now maintained an aloof but trusting relationship. Ten months ago, Eskkar had accepted his son as his heir, and Trella had made the public announcement to the people of Akkad. Whatever their feelings once might have been for their son, Sargon’s trials with the Ur Nammu had turned him into a man. He’d proved himself worthy of one day becoming the ruler of Akkad and its people.
More important, at least in Eskkar’s eyes, was that Sargon had made peace with his mother, and welcomed her role as a counselor and advisor. In the long run Eskkar knew that would prove more vital than the father and son relationship. They did not always see eye to eye on every issue, but both had learned to listen to the other, a major accomplishment for any father and son, warrior or village bred.
Tashanella and her mothers, by their careful maneuverings, had helped restore the mutual trust and respect between Sargon and his parents. Working subtly, wife and mothers ensured that Sargon set aside his bitterness toward his mother, Lady Trella.
Sargon and his wife had visited Akkad twice, and both times Trella had openly embraced her son and daughter-in-law. Only then, when Sargon felt secure in his mother’s treatment of his chosen wife, had he let go of the last of his anger.
Sargon, again following Tashanella’s suggestion, had journeyed to Akkad with his wife, where she gave birth to Sargon’s first born, a daughter. When the proud parents returned to the Ur Nammu, Trella had accompanied them, to spend more time with her new granddaughter.
Time had changed Sargon. He’d grown into manhood even as he won the respect of the Ur Nammu for his quick wits and good sense. The Alur Meriki trusted him, too. He often spent time in their camp, visiting Chief Bekka or Den’rack, who had grown into another of Sargon’s friends and mentors.
Last year Bekka had promised one of his daughters to Sargon as a wife, as soon as she completed the rites. Once Sargon might have refused such an offer, but both Tashanella and Trella had advised him to accept the gift. Anything that joined the Ur Nammu, the Alur Meriki, and the Akkadians had to be considered carefully and treated with respect.
Not to mention that Sargon still had no son of his own. A year after he’d taken Tashanella as his wife, she had given him a girl for his first born. Less than a year later, a second child came, this time a boy, who died soon after birth.
None of that mattered now. The time for the endless planning and subtle diplomacy, so much a part of Lady Trella’s maneuverings, had passed. The warriors of the steppes rode to war. For them, this was a time of joy. Unlike Sargon’s civilized parents, the Alur Meriki relished the chance to strike a hard blow at their enemies.
By the end of the third day, the warriors had ridden far to the north, and entered deep into the foothills of the Zagros Mountains. Turning eastward, they followed the same path that three years earlier, the Alur Meriki had traversed when they departed the lands of the Indus and the Elamites.
The combined force of warriors continued the arduous journey, rapidly retracing the slow steps of the Alur Meriki, back toward the northernmost lands of Elam. Three days after the boys and old men turned back, Bekka and his men completed the journey through the northern foothills.
When the warriors climbed the last hill at the place where the high passes opened up to the south, they enjoyed a vista that revealed the vast and mostly barren high plains. Sargon had never beheld such an expanse. He estimated he could see more than four miles to the south and east.
But the land was empty, save for two Alur Meriki scouts who waited there to receive them. Sargon noticed that their horses were played out. These warriors had ridden hard. He recognized the markings on their lances. These were men from Den’rack’s clan, who had traveled in secret into the Elamite lands almost a month ago.
Sargon and Garal, taking their position just behind Bekka and Subutai, heard the scout’s words.
“Chief Bekka. . Chief Subutai.” The rider, a veteran warrior with more than forty seasons, nodded to Sargon as well. “Den’rack is waiting at the Jkarian Pass. We only just reached this place, to await your arrival, and to give you the news. Den’rack spotted a large force of Elamite cavalry, more than five thousand, as they rode toward the Jkarian Pass. Unless they stop, by this time tomorrow they’ll have entered the Pass. More of our scouts have ranged far to the south, and observed the village where the dirt-eaters were assembling to go through the Dellen Pass.”
Sargon heard Bekka’s grunt of frustration. “Have they started west?”
“Through the Dellen Pass?” The scout nodded. “Yes, three days ago. Den’rack said they move slowly, because there are so many of them.”
Sargon heard the bad news. His mother’s spies had estimated that the Elamites wouldn’t be starting for the two passes for another few days. That extra time would have given Bekka’s men plenty of time to get into position. Obviously the Elamites had moved sooner than expected. They, too, understood that Akkadian spies were everywhere.
Bekka turned to Sargon, who knew much more about how dirt-eater cavalry operated. “The soldiers going through the Dellen Pass do not concern us now. But how long would it have taken for the Elamites to reach your Engineer’s place in the Jkarian Pass?”
“At least three days, Chief Bekka,” Sargon said. “They would see no reason to hurry.”
Sargon saw the frown on Bekka’s forehead, and did the same calculation the Alur Meriki leader had just completed. Riding hard, it would take Bekka’s warriors two days to reach the mouth of the Jkarian Pass.
If Eskkar’s plan to block the Pass succeeded, the Elamite cavalry could already be on the way back. That meant the Alur Meriki warriors might soon have a large enemy force behind or even in front of them.