The sun climbed higher above the horizon, and still the killing continued, as blood-crazed Akkadians unleashed their rage upon their enemy. Naxos had his warhorse killed under him, but one of his personal guards managed to find another for the King. Naxos continued his attacks, challenging any group of Elamites that caught his eye.
At last Hathor realized his men had overwhelmed the Elamites, and now they searched for any enemy left alive. Shouting with all his breath, he managed to collect a few hundred riders to his side. Asina added another fifty or so, and Hathor ordered him to take command of the men and start rounding up the scattered horses.
When Asina galloped out of the camp, Hathor continued assembling his men. Now the groans of the wounded and dying men sounded over the blood-soaked campsite. The screams and cries of the injured horses, some driven mad from the pain, amplified the noise.
When Hathor finally glanced at the sky, he saw the bright blue sky of a new day. Waving his sword high, he called out for his commanders. One by one they gathered to his side, some still shouting in their excitement, others angry at being recalled from the slaughter. The battle, if such it could be called, had ended.
Across the grasslands, small bands of Akkadians still pursued their enemy, cutting them down as they ran. At last even these satisfied their blood lust and returned to the camp, horse and rider equally exhausted. Naxos, his killing rage finally subsided, joined Hathor at what remained of the center of the camp.
Isin’s King clapped Hathor on his shoulder. “What a fight! We killed them all. Killed them all! And I got Simaski!”
“By Ra, that is good news!” Hathor meant every word. “Are you sure it was him?”
“Yes, Simaski was trying to rally his men, but one of my soldiers hamstrung his horse and the crazed beast threw its rider. Before Simaski could find another mount, we were on him. I put my sword right into his back!”
“Well done, Naxos! That should keep the Elamites from regrouping.”
“We killed all of them,” Naxos repeated, unable to control his excitement.
Hathor grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Not all of them, but enough. Now we must take stock.”
For the rest of the morning, the men counted the dead and dying, finishing off those Elamites still alive. Horses, too, were rounded up and driven back toward the camp, but this time to a site five hundred paces from the killing ground.
Just before noon Hathor and Naxos sat facing each other on stools that must have belonged to the Elamite Simaski. After washing off most of the blood splatter in the stream, the two leaders received the reports of the commanders, who had taken count of the battle. Almost forty-two hundred Elamites dead, and the rest, a good number of them wounded, had scattered in every direction. Many had tossed aside their swords and weapons to run all the faster.
“I can’t believe how many we killed,” Naxos said, “against such a small number of our own men lost.”
“I saw the same thing happen in Egypt, and even at the Battle of the Stream, where Eskkar broke the Alur Meriki. A hard and unexpected strike, and panic overtakes your enemy. Look how many Elamite sandals we found. They never had time to lace them on.”
“And swords and horses, too,” Naxos said.
The number of captured horses reached almost three thousand, with another few hundred dead animals littering the battlefield. Less than four hundred Akkadians had lost their lives or taken wounds.
As the last of the tally was added up, Hathor turned to Naxos. “You have won a great victory, King Naxos. The Elamites who survive, even if they manage to find a horse, are broken men.”
“Tomorrow we’ll start hunting them down,” Naxos declared.
“If I may suggest, King Naxos, that may be left to one of your commanders. You and I, and at least four thousand riders, have a more important target to strike. Sumer awaits us. If we can get there before Chaiyanar learns of his cavalry’s defeat, we can strike another heavy blow to his army.”
Naxos took in a deep breath. “I suppose that’s what Eskkar would do.”
Hathor shook his head. “It’s what you would do, too, once the battle rage left your blood. And after today, you need not compare yourself to Eskkar. As your friend, and his, too, I say no man ever fought harder or killed more men by his own hand than King Naxos of Isin.”
“It has been many years, Hathor of Egypt, since I have called any man my friend. But you have helped me win this victory, and the glory is as much yours as mine.”
“We’ve ridden side-by-side for many days,” Hathor said, “and fought together. Even if we were defeated, I would still call you ‘friend.’”
For a moment, Naxos seemed at a loss for words. “I suppose you’ll want to ride to Sumer at once.”
“The men and horses need some rest. Tell each of the men to pick an extra mount from those we captured. But by midafternoon, we ride for Sumer.”
Grand Commander Chaiyanar surveyed the walls of Sumer from beneath the shade of his awning, which kept the late morning sun away from his chair. The city still resisted his efforts, but since the raid by the Akkadian cavalry, he’d driven his men ruthlessly. His subcommanders and foremen, a length of rope in their hands, strode among the men sweating at their tasks, administering the lash on anyone not working to his utmost.
Each day, the line of trenches drew closer to the walls. Chaiyanar’s men, protected from arrows by tables, planks, logs, fresh hides, even piles of sand, anything that would stop an arrow, moved ever nearer.
Yesterday he’d launched his first all out assault, flinging three thousand men, backed by a thousand archers, against the northeast section of Sumer. For a few moments Chaiyanar thought his men would carry the city. A handful of brave soldiers actually surmounted the wall, but the defenders had somehow rallied and hurled back the attackers.
The Elamites wasted over a thousand men killed or wounded in the attempt, but the Sumerians had suffered heavily as well. Even so, never had Chaiyanar lost so many men before in a single assault, and a failed one at that.
Chaiyanar ignored the casualties. He remained determined to overwhelm the defenders as soon as possible, no matter what the cost. Once inside the city, his men could hold it against any remaining Akkadian forces. Ships from Elam could resupply him, until the last of Eskkar’s fighters died under Lord Modran’s attacks.
Each day he received reports from his cavalry, busy pursuing the Akkadian horsemen as they fled to the north. His cavalry commander, Simaski, had maintained close contact with the enemy horsemen, by now at least two days ride away from Sumer.
Today Chaiyanar didn’t care whether his own men caught up with Eskkar’s cavalry or not. All that mattered was keeping the Akkadian cavalry away from Sumer long enough for the Elamites to breech the walls and storm the city. Once Chaiyanar’s men were within the walls, the Akkadian horsemen would be no threat.
The last report Chaiyanar received had been two nights ago, and Simaski declared that he expected to come to grips with the Akkadians the next day. No messengers had arrived yesterday, but that might mean a battle had been fought. Today’s news, he felt certain, would describe that encounter.
He had no doubt about his horsemen. Tough fighters, they would match up with Eskkar’s cavalry man for man. The two thousand man advantage the Elamites possessed would guarantee a brutal battle. No matter who won, the Akkadian horsemen would be eliminated as a fighting force and a threat to the siege of Sumer.
By the end of today, the cavalry battle between Simaski and the Akkadians would be of no importance. Once Chaiyanar captured the city, his men would man the defenses. Already his diggers and soldiers had moved the trenches to within a hundred and fifty paces of the wall. At midafternoon, Chaiyanar intended to launch two fresh attacks, one again at the northeastern section of the wall and Sumer’s main gate, and the other at the south side.