Hathor caught up with Naxos, walking with some of the men from Isin, and gave him the news.
“I hate this walking. My feet already hurt.”
Hathor laughed softly. “No horse fighter likes walking, which is why the Elamites won’t be expecting us to double back. They believe we wouldn’t dare to ride in the darkness.”
“Will we get there in time?”
Hathor glanced up at the moon. Thin clouds crossed the tiny orb, dimming the already feeble light. “Yes, we should be there well before dawn. And we’ll have the sun at our backs.”
“You say Eskkar came up with this idea? Something from his past?”
“That’s what he said. He convinced me it could be done. We started training, and once the horses got used to traveling after dark, it worked out pretty well. We lost a horse here and there, but that was a small price to pay to move a cavalry force ten to fifteen miles at night.”
In the last month before the ride south through the mountains, Naxos, too, had trained his men in the same technique, walking and guiding a horse at night. But the men from Isin did not have as much experience, and so Naxos agreed to let the Akkadians lead the way.
The landscape they were crossing made the journey easier. The level ground and soft earth sprouted only the occasional clump of sand grass. Hathor had trained his men on far more difficult ground.
Nevertheless, Hathor heard some of his men complaining as they walked. They hadn’t gotten enough sleep to fully refresh themselves. By the time they reached the Elamite camp, they would be even more weary. Still, Hathor had no doubt that they’d be able to fight. Months of hard training had inured the men to such hardships.
The steady strides of men and horses ate up the distance. As they walked, Hathor kept track of the moon’s descent, but the army’s progress kept pace.
The darkness of night had not yet started to fade when Hathor for the second time made contact with his scout, waiting patiently along the line of the march. Once again, Asina’s teeth gleamed in the darkness.
“The enemy is less than a mile ahead, Lord Hathor,” Asina said. “They’re on the far side of the stream, with only a few guards posted. We should be able to close within a quarter of a mile before they hear us. The stream’s water makes a good bit of noise, and it should help mask our approach.”
“Well done, Asina,” Hathor said. “Stay with me, so you can guide our men directly to the enemy’s position.”
“Should we give the men some rest?” Naxos had remained close, to hear any reports as soon as they came in.
Hathor took another glance at the stars above. “No, I don’t think so. It will take too long to stop the men, and then get them going again. Better to just keep moving. But we’ll pass the word to the men to slow down a bit. And remind them to keep quiet.”
Hathor considered the last stretch of the long night’s march the most dangerous. They had to get close enough without being seen, or more likely, heard. If the Elamites heard them coming, they would react fast enough, finding their horses and preparing their weapons. Hathor needed to catch them before they could mount up and ready themselves for battle.
The long line of men, still stretching over a front a quarter mile wide, continued its slow progress. Hathor jumped at every clink of sword and every grunt or soft whinny the horses made, expecting the alarm to sound. But the enemy cavalry remained unaware of Hathor’s approach, and the distance slowly closed.
“There!” Asina clutched Hathor’s arm. “You can see the stream.”
It took a moment before Hathor glimpsed the thin ribbon of water, glistening faintly in the dim moonlight. Behind it, he saw a darker mass of men who covered the ground.
“Keep moving,” Hathor hissed. “And keep those horses quiet!”
For the first time, Hathor wished he’d brought some slingers with him. They might have been able to slip up on the sentries, and kill a few of them.
Suddenly Hathor could make out the herd of horses, held in rope corrals behind the sleeping men. The Elamites had placed their mounts as far away from the stream as they could, so that the water wouldn’t be fouled by the animals. The stream itself would appear to provide a barrier in the event an enemy tried to raid their horses.
Glancing up at the sky, Hathor saw that in the east, the deep blackness of the night had softened into grayness. Already some of the Elamites would be waking from their slumber.
By now only three or four hundred paces separated the Akkadians from the stream, and yet no alarm had sounded. He again glanced behind him, and saw the first faint shade of pink appearing at the horizon. The carefully contrived plan of maneuver and countermarch had brought the Akkadians to the precise place they wanted, and they had arrived just before dawn.
A shout from the Elamite camp floated out over the stream, but Hathor no longer cared. He swung up onto his mount, and his bellow carried to the far ends of the Akkadian line. Tired, weary, and footsore, his men had finished the march with only a few moments to spare. Now all they had to do was fight and win. Otherwise they were going to be slaughtered.
“Mount up! Attack! Attack!”
In moments the ground thundered under the horses’ hooves. Leading the way were the six hundred Akkadian horsemen who could use a bow from the back of a galloping horse. The first ragged volley of arrows flew into the air, aimed at the frantic crowd of half-awake men scrambling to their feet.
But the second volley, and by far the most important, flew not at the Elamite soldiers, but arched up into the sky, to rain down upon the horse herds that were just beyond the men.
The densely packed horses, already skittish from the shouts and the hoof beats of the Akkadians’ charging animals, panicked as the shafts dropped down from the sky, wounding hundreds of beasts. They broke away from the charging front line of Hathor’s riders, tearing asunder the flimsy rope corrals. Once started, the stampede quickly spread to the rest of the Elamite mounts.
By then the first of the Akkadians were splashing across the stream. Hathor and his riders knew the water flowed little more than ankle high, barely enough to slow their galloping horses. With their war cries bellowing over the camp, Hathor’s cavalry tore into the disorganized Elamites.
Caught unprepared, unable to reach their horses, the Elamite cavalry, tough enough when mounted, was no match for the charging Akkadians. Once in among the enemy, Hathor’s men used their swords to slash or dismember the panic-stricken Elamites, hacking at everything that moved while shouting Akkad and Isin’s war cries.
The rising sun, now providing more than enough light to distinguish friend from foe, sent its first rays over a savage fight that quickly turned into a slaughter. Swinging their bloody swords again and again, the Akkadians rode their way through the camp. Many of the enemy were struck down from behind, or tumbled to the earth by Hathor’s warhorses. Others crashed to the earth from the slicing blows that opened the flesh to the bone or knocked a fleeing man to the ground.
Hathor ranged along the widening front, directing his fighters, many of whom still had their bows, to turn their weapons on any knot of men trying to resist. The arrows flew into the unarmored men, most of whom had barely managed to find their swords, let alone their leather jerkins.
Naxos, roaring like a demon from the pits, led a contingent of Isin riders that charged right through the enemy ranks and into the open space where the Elamite horses had been corralled. Isin’s King turned around, and struck again. This time he and his men attacked the thickest bulk of the enemy, and cut them to pieces.
Though the Akkadians were outnumbered at the start of the attack, the dismounted Elamites could do little. Only on their right flank, bypassed by the Akkadians, did enough enemy soldiers manage to find their weapons. Even so, most ran for their horses, desperate to mount up, either to fight or flee.