A glance at the sky brought a frown to his face — the sun had already marked the midpoint of the afternoon. All the same, the well-planned assault on Sumer was about to begin, and Chaiyanar knew that many decisions would need to be made during the attack. He would direct the final charge himself, the one that would swamp the defenders and sweep them from the northern wall and main gate.
The first foray, however, would come on the eastern wall, another weak point that his men had identified. Two thousand soldiers, backed by eight hundred archers, would attack there. The Elamite trenches had snaked their way close to that wall, too, and it was very possible Sumer’s defenses might be breached there as well.
Meanwhile, a second and smaller Elamite force would launch another thrust at the southernmost section of Sumer’s defenses. A thousand men and two hundred bowmen would try to overwhelm the southern wall, or at least draw off as many of the defenders as possible.
Once those attacks had begun, Chaiyanar would fling the remainder, and by far the largest portion, of his assault forces at the north wall and Sumer’s main entrance. Under his direct command three thousand men, backed by fifteen hundred bowmen and all the support troops, would attack a strip of wall barely a hundred paces wide. Chaiyanar felt certain his men could overcome the defenses there.
The western side of the city, that closest to the Tigris, would be ignored. The narrow land gap between the river and the walls made it too difficult to marshal enough men to try an attack.
His remaining cavalry, less than a thousand men, still ringed the city. Earlier this morning, Chaiyanar had dispatched most of them, over five hundred, to guard the southern approach. He wanted plenty of warning in case the Akkadians once again tried to sneak up on his army from that direction.
The Elamite horsemen also had orders to make sure no one got out of the city by land or river. The Sumerians had at least twenty boats nestled along the docks, and Chaiyanar wanted to make sure no rich merchants or any of the city’s leaders made their escape that way.
He had learned of the destruction of the supply cove only yesterday. The loss of the beachhead and the disruption of supplies from Sushan hit Chaiyanar hard. He’d never expected to find an enemy behind him, nor to have his link with Elam cut. But that no longer mattered now. Once he had Sumer under his grip, the supplies could come up river direct to the city’s docks.
Chaiyanar’s men had already received their orders — no matter what resistance they encountered, the northern wall and main gate must be taken. After Sumer was captured, if any of its people resisted, they would be put to the sword. By sundown, he expected to ride through Sumer’s open gates, while the city’s few surviving inhabitants knelt in the dust with their heads bowed.
The usual difficulties of preparing men for battle had already delayed his attack, but plenty of daylight still remained. He issued the final orders that would commence the offensives on the southern and eastern walls.
That accomplished, Chaiyanar sat on his horse and waited. He studied his men, crammed shoulder to shoulder in the many trenches. They would launch the offensive. The rest of his soldiers stood just out of arrow range. Ladders, shields, ropes, carts, everything needed was at hand, and his three thousand soldiers appeared ready enough.
They would be supported by fifteen hundred archers, who would follow behind the rush to the walls, and try to keep the defenders pinned down and unable to use their weapons.
Yesterday’s foray had nearly succeeded, and today even greater numbers of Elamites would hurl themselves at Sumer’s ramparts.
Chaiyanar had committed all his troops to this onslaught. Nothing would be held back. Even the siege workers would add their weight to the attack, carrying extra arrows and ladders, and a few water skins. Only the remnants of his cavalry would not partake in the storming.
At last Grand Commander Chaiyanar heard the drumbeats that signaled the southern and eastern wall attacks had commenced. From where he sat on his horse, Chaiyanar now heard the shouts of his men, even if he couldn’t see them. They would have risen up from the trenches and rushed toward the bulwarks. The din of battle grew louder, as the city’s defenders added their clamor. Chaiyanar shifted his gaze to the strategic north wall and main gate, and the Sumerians facing his men.
He saw many of their heads turned toward the other walls. They knew that an assault there had already begun, and now they would worry that they might be attacked from within their city. That fear would work to his advantage. It also meant the time had come.
Chaiyanar gave the order, and his own battle drum began to sound. With a roar that echoed off Sumer’s wall, his men leapt from the trenches and earthworks that sheltered them. Ignoring the arrow storm that greeted them, they raced as fast as they could run across the open space toward the city’s wall. Many went down, struck by Sumerian arrows. Nevertheless, a wave of men, shouting their war cries, quickly reached the base of Sumer’s north wall.
Arrows continued to fly from the wall, hundreds of them. Chaiyanar watched as many of his men were killed, but the dead and wounded men were ignored, even trampled underfoot. In moments, the last of the open space before the north wall had filled with the Elamites.
The losses scarcely slowed the assault. Ladders were rammed against the sides of the city’s wall. Chaiyanar’s fifteen hundred bowmen had also moved forward. Now they stood exposed as they targeted any defenders who showed themselves, either to shoot at his soldiers or to try and dislodge the ladders.
Stones were hurled blindly over the rampart and took their toll. But the first wave of Elamite attackers flung themselves onto the ladders and started climbing. Chaiyanar moved his horse closer, staying just out of range and urging his men to the attack.
A shout from behind finally caught Chaiyanar’s attention. He turned to see three horsemen galloping at a dead run toward him, waving their arms and bellowing something incomprehensible. But even before the men pulled their lathered horses to a halt beside Chaiyanar, he had lifted his gaze over their heads, toward the low hills less than a half mile away.
A large force of cavalry, hundreds and hundreds, was riding smoothly down the slope. As soon as the riders reached the level ground, they put their mounts to the gallop, waving their bows and swords in the air. For an instant, Chaiyanar thought Commander Simaski and his men had returned.
“They’re Akkadians! Thousands of them!” The first scout to reach Chaiyanar’s side gasped out the words, even as he gestured to the men now galloping toward them. “They broke through our line, and they. .”
By now the thunder of the charging horses’ hooves echoed over the flat land that surrounded Sumer. For a moment, Chaiyanar stared open-mouthed at this dreadful apparition, a seemingly endless wave of horses flowing down the hill like a river. Akkadian cavalry! Here! Impossible!
“Recall the men,” he screamed. “Sound the retreat! Sound the retreat!”
The terrified drummer standing beside his leader obeyed, and immediately the rhythmic drumbeat sounded. But the din of battle added to that of the charging Akkadian horses, and masked the drum sound. The brutal fighting at the north wall still occupied all of the Elamites’ attention, and most never heard the drum, or if they did, understood its message. Savage fighting erupted along the top of the wall, as many of the Elamites tried to force their way over the top.
However Chaiyanar knew that no longer mattered. There wasn’t enough time to get his soldiers into the city and take control. “Get the men back here,” Chaiyanar bellowed, furious that no one heeded his order. “We have to drive them off!”