those who would target only clan leaders. His two sons would target little else. Well, Totomes, this is your day for taking your revenge on the Alur Meriki. By sunset, no matter how it ended, the master archer and his sons would slay more than enough of their foes to satisfy their blood feud.
Esk kar scanned the plains. Two streams of riders, backed by archers and men carrying ladders, moved toward the north and south walls. They’d try and draw soldiers away from the gate and towers. The bulk of the Alur Meriki came straight at the gate. They meant to bridge the ditch by pushing wagons and wooden platforms into place until they could attack the gate itself. Wagons and shields would provide protection for their archers.
Looking at the hills, he saw men still coming from the camp, but fewer of them. Almost all those in the front ranks were weaponless slaves, many of them women. They pushed wagons, or carried wood or pots of fire.
The Alur Meriki considered the slaves expendable, since a new supply could be obtained once they captured the village. So nothing would be held back today-every slave that could walk and every man that could hold a weapon. Esk kar signaled to one of the messengers kneeling against the wall. “Find one of the scribes and try to get a count of their fighting men.”
How many men did Thutmose — sin have left? At least a thousand, Eskkar guessed. The horde in front of the village slowed, stopping just out of bowshot as they found their stations and took up their shields, preparing to face the arrows they knew awaited them.
Only silence came from the enemy. There would be little shouting or taunting, no eager war cries. They’d learned their lessons and knew they faced hardened soldiers who would not easily yield. They’d miss the joy of battle, Esk kar decided, no quick slaughter of men on foot, no feats of horsemanship, just moving forward into the rain of arrows.
Esk kar understood why they didn’t use the horses. They’d lose too many, more than they could replace. He smiled at that thought. Thutmose — sin must be worried about how big a price he’d pay today, even in victory.
The Alur Meriki leader must have a victory, and it must be cheap enough to satisfy those who hoped for his failure.
We just have to give them a reason to turn back, and some will take it.
Calls for silence moved up and down the walls as Totomes and his men finished testing their bows. The master archer had no more instructions for his men and needed no orders from Esk kar to tell him when and what to shoot. Huge stocks of arrows stood ready and the archers would begin loosing shafts as soon as they could, for as long as they could bend a bow, until every last arrow was gone.
Esk kar nodded in approval. He’d done all he could, and now the arms of his archers would determine whether Orak stood or fell.
He felt a gentle tap on his arm and turned, surprised to find one of the women standing there. At first he didn’t comprehend her words, then he saw the water jug in her hand. An elderly matron, she had long gray hair that blew around her shoulders in the light breeze. The jug’s weight made her hands tremble. She’d carried her burden first to him, bypassing others on her way.
Esk kar took the jug and lifted it to his lips. He didn’t feel particularly thirsty yet, but the sun already warmed the wall and the full heat of the day would be on them soon enough. So he took a long drink and returned a much lighter vessel to the woman.
“Thank you, elder,” he said, not knowing her name, as he wiped his mouth with his hand.
“Good fortune,” she answered soberly. “My sons fight with you this day. So bring us victory.” She didn’t wait to hear his reply, moving down the wall with her water, a task she would perform throughout the long day or until an arrow took her down.
Behind her stepped Grond, newly promoted leader of the captain’s personal guard, carrying Esk kar’s copper helmet, now painted brown to look similar to the leather ones. He handed it to his captain, as well as a leather vest and gauntlets for his arms. Esk kar fastened them on his body, taking care to lace them properly, letting Grond help him. The other bodyguard handed Grond a thick leather collar.
“I’ll not wear that.” Esk kar shook his head. “It itches, and I feel like I’m in a noose.”
“I’m sorry, Captain, but Gatus and Lady Trella insisted.” Grond stared at him. “Or we’ll have to carry you from the wall. The enemy will be targeting you and we don’t want you to take an arrow in the throat.”
Esk kar could have browbeaten the bodyguards, who looked nervous.
But so long as Grond stood firm, they’d obey orders to carry off their captain. For a moment Esk kar’s annoyance flashed, but Grond waited patiently, meeting his eyes, still offering up the collar. Esk kar felt tempted to take it and pitch it over the wall, but that would be childish. Besides, Grond would probably climb down into the ditch to retrieve it.
Esk kar ground his teeth and jerked the collar out of Grond’s hand, then wrapped it around his neck. Immediately it began to chafe. Grond stepped around him to fasten the laces. “Make it loose, damn you. I don’t want to choke to death.”
Grond knew his business and the nearly three inches of stiff leather sat on the base of Esk kar’s neck, loose but capable of deflecting, with luck, an arrow. That duty done, Grond nodded to the two bodyguards and they moved in front of Esk kar, bringing their wooden shields up to rest on the wall.
Esk kar would be able to peer between and over them, but the thick wood would shield most of his body. More men moved into position, including two special marksmen assigned by Totomes. These archers looked grim as they glanced at their captain. Their job was to kill anyone targeting Esk kar.
A messenger arrived, breathing hard, eyes wide as he reported to Eskkar. “Captain, Corio says there are at least eleven hundred armed men coming toward us, with about five hundred slaves.”
“Send word to the command post.” Esk kar spoke calmly, though he swore to himself at the number. He hadn’t thought they had that many warriors left. They must have recalled every outrider and pressed into service all the old men and young boys. Or perhaps another raiding party had joined them. Wherever they came from, it would be a lot of men to stop.
“Already done, Captain,” the boy answered.
Esk kar thanked the boy who moved aside, wedging himself out of the way in an empty space near the back of the tower. Out on the plain, a drum began to beat. Everyone turned toward the sound. The Orak bowmen looked nervous, almost anxious to get on with the battle. Their day had come and they’d be put to the test in the next few hours.
The barbarian horsemen moved to the flanks, staying just out of range.
They’d try to keep as much pressure on the other walls as possible. They’d probe for any weak points, and they had enough men to mount a rush. But their primary task was to draw off as many defenders from the main gate as possible.
Meanwhile the main force of Alur Meriki paused, crowded together, carts ready, and wooden shields lifted on high. Suddenly the drum changed its rhythm. With a few shouts the mass of slaves, warriors, horsemen, and carts began to move. Esk kar glanced up at the sun, well above the horizon.
An hour had passed since dawn.
The men on the wall fell silent. All eyes focused ahead as they took their stances and put arrows to the string, waiting for Totomes’s order. The tall archer took his time. He waited until the thick block of men reached the range of even the weakest of his archers before giving the command.
That order echoed along the rest of the wall, as the first flight of arrows told everyone the battle for Orak had begun.
The main wall held just two hundred and twenty archers, with the rest spread thinly along the other three walls. They faced at least seven hundred warriors heading straight for the gate, plus the mass of slaves used as shields and beasts of burden, well over a thousand men.
Arrows rattled up into the sky, flight after flight. His men were loosing between fifteen and eighteen arrows a minute. Out on the plain barbarians fell to the earth but the wagons kept coming, slowed for a moment as one or two men went down, but moving steadily forward.
So far no one fired back, but that would soon change. The enemy advanced, stoically absorbing the losses. War cries sounded on all sides now, as warriors raced their animals along the north and south walls.
The drumbeat quickened. The barbarians broke into a run, driving their slaves in front of them by the flat of their swords. Before long the leading edge of Alur Meriki knelt in the dirt and planted their shields about fifty paces from the ditch, as archers moved up behind the protection and began to return fire.
For their shorter bows it was still long range, and the advantage lay with the defenders, aided by their
