Eskkar Saga 01 - Dawn of Empire, page 43
The extra-long lances that bore the Alur Meriki symbols also carried each clan leader’s emblem. The distance was too great to distinguish details, but the standards stood out clear enough. “Another raiding party has joined with the two war parties from the south,” he commented, then cursed himself for stating the obvious.
“From the main camp,” Gatus asked, “or just another raiding party?”
“Probably the main camp,” Eskkar guessed. “But the Great Chief ’s standard isn’t here, not yet. You’ll recognize that when you see it.”
The third chief and his men probably formed an advance party from the main force, sent ahead to meet with the others and begin planning the attack. It might mean the War Chief had arrived. Or it might mean something else.
“Curse my eyes,” Eskkar swore, “I can’t make out any detail. Can you see anything on the banners, Sisuthros?” He was younger and presumably had better eyes.
“No, nothing,” Sisuthros said. “They’ll move closer soon enough.”
“Where’s Mitrac?” Eskkar asked. “That boy has better eyes than anyone in Orak. Send for him.”
Gatus dispatched a messenger to find the archer. It took some time before Mitrac arrived, carrying his bow and breathing hard.
“Ah, Mitrac.” Eskkar grasped the boy by the shoulders and led him to the tower’s edge. “See those three banners out there? Those are the standards of a war chief. I want you to remember those three banners, because one of them is probably the fighting chief who’ll be responsible for the attack. That’s the one I want you keep looking for. If you get a shot at him, take it, but only if you think you’ve got a good chance to hit him.”
The boy nodded, his hand over his eyes as he stared at the hillside.
Eskkar tried to think about what the enemy might be thinking. Put yourself in the other man’s place. What would I see? . . . what would I do? Ignoring the chatter of the men, he set himself to the task. After a moment he turned to his men.
“From where they are, they can’t see the open areas directly behind the wall. They may think the northeast section is the farthest from the center of the village, and that it will be the most difficult for our men to reach in an attack. If I were them, I’d strike at the gate, where we expect them, but push the real thrust at that corner.”
Eskkar looked at his men and waited, but no one offered any argument against it.
He shrugged. “We’ll plan for it. Sisuthros, Bantor, stay here with Mitrac and keep watch. They’ll come closer soon enough and Mitrac should be able to figure out who’s in charge. Gatus, let’s check on the rest of the wall.”
Eskkar descended from the tower and began walking quickly toward the northeast corner. Halfway there, a large group of villagers began to block his way, asking frightened questions that had no answer.
“Gatus, keep this area clear of villagers,” Eskkar ordered loudly. “Send those who don’t have duties here packing.”
He stopped about fifty paces short of the northeast corner and climbed the steps to the parapet. A cheer went up, this time from the soldiers as well as villagers. Damn the gods. He’d have to say something. He turned and faced the crowd beneath him. Fear and doubt showed plainly on every uplifted face.
“Soldiers! Villagers! In a few hours, the barbarians may launch their first attack. They will try to rush the gate, but I think they’ll attack this part of the wall as well. So ready yourselves.” He turned to Gatus. “I think Sisuthros and Bantor can handle the gate. You and I will command here.”
Eskkar looked up and down the parapet. He was about sixty paces from the corner. “This is the spot where they will hurl their attack, here and at the corner. I think everything else will be a ruse. Get the men ready. Make sure the men with the least experience are up front.”
Gatus looked surprised, and he showed no inclination to move.
“I want as many as possible to get experience, Gatus. This first attack should be the easiest to beat off. Keep some veterans in reserve at the base of the wall, ready to come up if needed. I don’t want them to know how good we are yet. I want them to keep thinking they can take the wall, if they just send enough men. Bring Maldar and half of his reserve up here as well.”
That would take men from the rear gate, but Eskkar didn’t think it likely the Alur Meriki would attack there.
Gatus nodded and hurried off, dispatching messengers as he did so.
Eskkar turned to his bodyguards. “You heard the plan. If I fall, you continue it. Now, help me pick the men.”
Everyone began moving and the activity lasted for some time. When Eskkar thought everything was in place, he stopped for a drink of water from one of the water barrels, as Totomes and Narquil, his older son, arrived with Mitrac. Jalen accompanied them and they moved to the wall’s edge to assess the situation.
Eskkar smiled at the three archers. “Good to see you again, Totomes . . . Narquil. Did you learn anything at the tower?”
“Yes, another standard has joined the first three,” Totomes answered.
“They’re starting to move toward us.”
Eskkar looked out toward the east. Four Alur Meriki chieftains and about thirty warriors were riding slowly toward the village at an angle. In a few minutes they would be in front of the gate, about half a mile distant, still out of bowshot.
A mutter of excitement raced along the wall. “Keep quiet, men,” he snapped. “Remember, they’ve never seen a wall like this before, and they’re only looking. Keep your heads down and don’t show yourselves.”
The Alur Meriki probably lacked information about the number of people in Orak. Eskkar wanted them to think he had fewer fighting men than were actually available.
Jalen pointed toward the hills to the north. Eskkar saw men and horses, the hilltops dotted with curious warriors. No doubt they disobeyed their own orders to stay below the hill crests.
Meanwhile, the chieftains halted a little past the gate and resumed their discussions. Behind him Eskkar could hear the leaders of each file of ten cursing their men, who kept peeking over the wall. Eskkar didn’t even bother swearing at them. The instant you gave an order, some fool would disobey it. Soldiers never changed.
The Alur Meriki resumed their inspection, riding leisurely until they passed opposite Eskkar’s position on the wall and continuing until they reached the flooded lands. Villagers crowded against each other, despite orders to keep the wall clear. Everyone wanted to see what the barbarians looked like.
Eskkar watched some warriors splash their horses into the newly formed swamp. The animals kicked up spray as they struggled to move through the thick mud covered with at least a foot of water. He smiled when the horses slowed to a crawl. The barbarians tested the wetlands in several places, but always with the same result. Finally they gave up and returned to dry ground, where they sat on their horses, staring down the length of the wall toward the river.
The dry land between the ditch and the flooded basin was only about thirty paces wide, about the same as the width of the ditch. Those two distances, taken together, would give them more than enough room to operate. Eskkar knew that they were thinking it shouldn’t be too difficult to surround the village and attack from many points at the same time.
Gatus strolled up to where Eskkar stared at the Alur Meriki. “Well, Captain, what do you think? Should we have flooded the ditch or not?” He said it seriously, without any hint of second guessing his leader.
“It’s too late, now, Gatus. If I’m wrong, you’ll probably not get a chance to tell me so.” If the enemy came in full strength against many parts of the wall, the village might fall. Eskkar swore again, worried that he had guessed wrong about the first attack.
“Looks like a little disagreement out there,” Gatus commented, shading his eyes. “Maybe they’re already arguing over the spoils.”
One chief did look a little angry, his horse moving restlessly as its master gesticulated, at one point slapping his breast to emphasize some point.
Eskkar wondered what they could be quarrelling about, even before the first attack? Put yourself in their place. His mind went over the possibilities. One situation seemed likely—that the fourth standard belonged to the war chief, and that he wanted to wait before attacking. The more excited warrior probably wanted to attack at once. Eskkar couldn’t be sure, but . . . if you decide something, be firm about it. Mistakes can be overcome, but never moments of indecision.
“Where’s Mitrac? Mitrac! Come here,” Eskkar shouted. In a moment the young man approached, having followed his captain’s travels along the wall. Eskkar pointed to the chiefs. “You see that chief that’s arguing out there? Can you see who he’s arguing with? That’s the war leader, and he’s the chief you’ll go after when the time is right. Always look for him, but not in the first fight. Don’t try to kill him yet.”
Mitrac studied the distant horsemen. “Yes, Captain, I think you’re right. From the tower, we saw each of the three speak to him in turn. He says little, just seems to listen. It’s the others who talk the most. His horse is that bay, the one with the white spot on the shoulder.”
Eskkar cursed his eyesight again. He couldn’t distinguish any markings on the horse, but the chief appeared to be wearing something white around his neck. “Good, good. Now, you see the one doing all the arguing? I don’t want him killed either.”
Mitrac turned to stare into Eskkar’s eyes. “But, why . . . I mean . . . why not shoot at either of them?”
“Because the loud one is probably the war chief who’ll lead the first attack, and he wants all the glory for taking the village by himself. I think the other chief is the one in charge. He’s probably the smartest one they have, while the other is the most reckless and ambitious. For the first attack we want the reckless one in charge, not dead by some lucky arrow fired at long range. After the attack fails, then you can kill him. And after today, you try and kill the other man every chance you get. Understand?”
“Why, yes . . . yes, I understand. I think I understand.” Mitrac eyes had gone wide in awe of Eskkar’s reasoning. “I’ll go tell my father,” he added, anticipating Eskkar’s next command.
“Good, and make sure he understands why. Off you go.”
When the boy trotted off, Gatus came over, shaking his head but smiling at the same time.
“Well, old man, what are you laughing at?”
“By sundown the story will be all over Orak. How Eskkar picked out the war chiefs and figured out their plans.” He smiled again and lowered his voice. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d almost believe you know what you’re doing.”
“If I knew what I was doing, I wouldn’t be standing here with you behind this puny wall. But it’s better to be lucky than smart, so let’s hope our luck holds out.”
Voices rippled along the wall and Eskkar turned back to watch the riders. They’d started to move, not returning the way they came, but moving toward the north. He watched them ride, graceful on their wiry horses, so much at home as they rode across the burnt out stubble of what had been, until a few days ago, a grassy plain. He glanced up at the sun and saw noon approached. They’d watched the horsemen for almost two hours.
“Gatus, do whatever else you need to strengthen this corner of the wall. Make sure that the whole length from here down to the river is ready. No matter what that eager war chief decides, there will be some attacks down this side.”
“We’ll be ready. Now you go and talk to Trella. She’s waiting down there for you.”
Eskkar looked down into the village. He picked her out at once, surrounded by half a dozen women and her two bodyguards. Eskkar recognized the burly Klexor standing behind her.
Walking along the wall until he could descend, Eskkar strode across the open space toward the house that shaded Trella and her party. He greeted everyone as they moved aside.
“Good morning, husband. I’ve some food and water for you.” Trella carried a small basket under her arm.
She looked serene and confident, not a trace of last night’s frightened girl. She wore her poorest shift, the one she had on that first night. Today she carried the dagger Eskkar had taken from Drigo’s dead hand. He felt glad that she’d been trained in its use.
They sat on the ground, their backs against the wall, while the others moved away to give them some privacy. “You seem much better today, wife. Did you sleep well?” Eskkar ignored the smiles that appeared on some of the nearby faces. He wondered whether they knew everything that went on in his bedchamber, including how often and how well he made love to his woman.
“Yes, I slept very well. Now eat and drink. You may not get a chance later.” She handed him a piece of bread. “Will they attack today?”
“In a few hours. They’re waiting for the great chief and more men, just in case the first attack is successful.” He told her what he’d seen from the wall and his thoughts on what the barbarians would do.
“You know how they think, Eskkar. More important, the rest of the villagers feel secure when you act confidently.” She put the basket between them. “Finish your food while you can.”
Her agreement made him feel surer of himself and he took pleasure in that. He fell to work on the slices of bread and chicken, the meat still warm. Though he’d eaten breakfast only a few hours ago, he found himself hungry again, and the heat of the day had already given him a thirst.
Eskkar almost drained the water skin before he remembered to offer her some. She finished the water. “Give the rest of the chicken to Gatus. I must return to my duties. The old men grow nervous and quarrelsome if I’m not there to reassure them.”
“Be careful,” he warned her. “Don’t stand where a stray arrow can find you. And don’t . . .”
She stood and smiled at him. “Yes, master, I will obey, and you don’t need to repeat yourself a dozen times.” He must have looked crestfallen, for she leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Good fortune to you today, husband.” And she walked off, her followers trailing behind, some of the women looking back at him and giggling.
He hadn’t adjusted yet to that new experience, the constant stares and giggles from the women, who acted as if they knew all the intimate details of his personal life. Before Trella, no woman had dared to laugh at him. Barbarian customs had much to recommend them, he decided once again. He walked back to the wall, carrying the basket. He found Gatus underneath the parapet, swearing at two of his men for some infraction.
“Trella sends you some chicken for lunch, so I suppose you’ll have to eat it.” He pushed the basket into his hands. “Get some rest.” When the man started to protest, Eskkar held up his hand. “You won’t have time later.” He turned to one of the ever present Hawk Clan bodyguard. “Bring water for Gatus, and make sure you men get something to eat and drink as well.”
Eskkar spent the next hour pacing the wall, making sure everyone stayed alert and that the archers knew their roles, places, and orders. He had to be careful where he stepped—the top of the parapet creaked under the weight of stones piled upon it. Anymore and there would be no room for his archers.
Satisfied with the preparations, he reviewed the signals that would allow him and his men to communicate through the chaos of battle. He even found time to talk with some of the villagers, those who stood ready to use short spears, axes, and forked sticks.
Three hours past midday shouts went up from those manning the wall.
Eskkar ran lightly up the steps to the position he had selected to defend, about fifty paces from the northeast corner. He looked to his left and saw Gatus standing at the corner. Eskkar had to push men aside to get to the wall, but one look told him the attack had begun.
The hills were covered with mounted men, riding slowly toward Orak, most of them still more than two miles away. Their numbers seemed endless, and he felt the doubt rise up inside him.
“Mitrac,” he shouted, and this time the young man reached his side in a moment. “Get a count of their warriors.” Some of the barbarians carried ladders or climbing poles, sticks with crosspieces tied or nailed to the upright. They didn’t seem to have very many of those, he noted.
While Mitrac counted, Eskkar scanned the riders, looking for standards as the men walked their horses slowly toward the village. Three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . seven. That’s all he could see, and nowhere in sight was the giant standard of the sarrum. Riders continued to come over the crest of the distant hills, but fewer now, though he did see one new standard. They rode slowly or walked their horses, coming toward the village, mostly silent, strong men on fine horses, ready to do battle, all of them eager for glory and loot.
Gatus walked over to his side, as Jalen came up the steps behind him.
“By all the demons, is there any end to them?” Jalen asked. “Ishtar, they’re still coming!”
“I think we’ll see about two—thirds of them today,” Eskkar said. “They’ll wait for the clan chief before they attack, so he can witness their bravery.” The leading riders had stopped now, waiting, as their leaders held up lances or bows horizontally to mark out a rough line less than half a mile from the wall.
“How long before the big chief shows up?” Gatus inquired. “He won’t keep them waiting long, will he?”
“Less than an hour,” Eskkar answered, staring at the warriors. “Enough time for us to become weak with fear.”
“Then he can come right now, as far as I’m concerned,” Gatus said.
“Maybe we should have stayed across the river.”
Jalen looked shocked, but Eskkar laughed. “You should’ve thought of that yesterday.” He turned back to Mitrac. “Well, how many, lad?”
The boy’s lips moved wordlessly as he checked his fingers. “Captain, I count about eleven hundred, maybe a few more.”
Eskkar had done his calculation the easy way, figuring a hundred men to each standard, with extra men for the chief who would lead the first attack. The answer made him feel a little better. If the first attack were a full assault, with every warrior participating, there’d be even more men facing him.
