When Esk kar could stand the cold no longer, he pulled himself out and rested next to the stream, letting the sun’s rays warm him as they dried his garments. He thought about what the day would bring.
When he returned to the canyon, he found his men standing about, waiting. The horses had been fed and watered, weapons cleaned, and the wounded tended. The Ur Nammu had completed the burial pit. A single lance buried in the earth, blade thrusting skyward, marked the site. A long yellow streamer bearing the sign of the Ur Nammu fl uttered from the tip.
More prayers had been chanted to appease the gods and sanctify the ground. The bodies of the Alur Meriki lay in a tangled heap around the lance. They’d be left to the carrion eaters, so all would know they’d been conquered in death as well as in life. When the Alur Meriki discovered this place, they would leave the bodies untouched and unburied. The dead would suffer in the afterlife for their defeat.
One of Mesilim’s warriors greeted him with a slice of well — roasted horseflesh, the meat burned almost black and nearly too hot to hold. Eskkar wolfed it down, surprised at his hunger. It took a second strip to satisfy him.
Mesilim walked over. “Chief Esk kar, we’re ready to leave this place.
We’ll camp on the other side of the stream. I’ll send scouts out in case another war party arrives.”
If one does, we’ll all be dead. It took time to load the men and animals with the captured weapons, food, and loot. At last they walked their horses from the canyon, their pace dictated by the wounded men and animals. As Eskkar left the canyon, he glanced back at the place where so many had died.
Already a flock of vultures and other birds fought over the dead flesh. The steppes people had lived and died this way for generations. It might be as good a way to die as any other, though he hoped his bones would find peace under a patch of earth someday, instead of above.
They camped at the small stream where Esk kar had bathed earlier. Everyone felt glad to be out of the maze of canyons and back on the sparse grasses where the air didn’t smell of blood. A dead tree provided firewood and more horsemeat soon sizzled on the flames.
Esk kar talked with Zantar. He’d recovered his senses and could speak coherently. Zantar had an enormous bruise on his forehead. Strangely, the man remembered nothing of the fight or even the hours leading up to it, and had to be told in detail what happened.
As for Tammuz, he remained fretful. They had no more wine to give him. They’d supported the boy on his horse during the brief ride to the stream, but he fainted again when they lifted him down. Mesilim’s healer examined his patient and rebound the injured arm tightly to the boy’s side to prevent further damage. Now Tammuz slept on the soft grass, his head pillowed by a horse blanket. He tossed and murmured in his sleep.
Three Ur Nammu scouts rode off, while other lookouts took up posts on the surrounding hills. Finally all the animals had been fed and watered, the men had eaten a second time, and the time for talk had arrived.
Mesilim and his son came to Esk kar. He kept Sisuthros with him, even though Sisuthros did not understand the language. The four men found a quiet place on a grassy knoll a hundred paces from the stream, where they could speak privately.
Esk kar shared what information he had about the Alur Meriki, then listened to what Mesilim had to say. Esk kar asked many questions about the numbers and movements of the Alur Meriki. As they spoke, the leaders sketched a map in the dirt between them, using twigs, stones, and knives to represent various landmarks.
“Now I understand why they march as they did,” Mesilim remarked.
“We wondered what they searched for in their movements and why they didn’t ride to the west. It will not bode well for you and your village when they do.”
“Mesilim, I truly believe we can resist them,” Esk kar said. “I’ll have many bowmen to man the wall or swing a sword.”
Esk kar didn’t wait for their polite concurrence. “But I’d like to have your clan’s assistance in my fight. If you help us, I believe you can satisfy your Shan Kar without sacrificing the rest of your men.”
“The Shan Kar is to the death,” Subutai answered firmly. “We’ve all sworn the oath and there’s no turning aside.”
Esk kar nodded gravely. “Of course. I’m a stranger to your clan, Subutai, and ignorant of your ways. But cannot a Shan Kar be satisfied by a great defeat of the enemy in battle? At least that’s what I’ve heard.”
They knew Esk kar came from the steppes, probably from the Alur Meriki clan they’d just fought. But diplomacy prevailed. Neither Mesilim nor his son wanted to ask any questions whose answers might offend them.
“That’s true,” Mesilim responded, “but we’re not numerous enough to create a great battle. The days of our clan are numbered, and we will not recover our strength before we’re overwhelmed. In a few days another ten or twelve warriors and a handful of women will join us, and that is all of the Ur Nammu.”
Esk kar hadn’t known any more of them survived, but took that as good news. “Orak is strong enough to create a great battle. We have almost as many people as in the tribe, and more come every day. It will take all of the might of the Alur Meriki to capture our village. If you join with us, then you could share in the great battle. If we win, your Shan Kar would be satisfied. And if you fight with us, I can help your people with weapons, horses, and supplies.”
Mesilim and Subutai exchanged glances. A Shan Kar sworn in the heat of defeat two years ago condemned them all to death.
“We must satisfy our honor, Esk kar,” Mesilim said, his head held high.
“But if there be such a way…”
Esk kar breathed a silent sigh of relief, then reached to the ground and rearranged the twigs and stones. “Here’s the Tigris to the north,” three small twigs bent at angles to show the big curve of the river. “And here’s Orak,” a small stone set next to the twig. “The main body of the Alur Meriki are here.” He placed a larger stone near the river. “The two raiding parties,” he put two pebbles at the lower end of the Tigris, “will sweep everything in their path toward Orak, and in six or seven weeks the entire clan will be camped before Orak’s walls.”
Mesilim nodded.
“Except for one other war party.” Esk kar picked up a stone and set it across the Tigris, opposite Orak. “This party will cut off those who try to flee, and then round up the cattle and horses we’ve sent across the river.
“This will be a smaller party, probably seventy or eighty warriors, just enough to hold the river and scour the countryside. With your help, I will ambush this party and kill all of them.”
Esk kar’s knife traced a groove northward along the Tigris. “After they are slain, your people can ride north, cross the river well upstream, then turn south and strike their main camp from behind at the height of the battle. There should be few watching their rear, because they know they’ve killed everyone in their path. The camp should be lightly defended. You can ride in and capture as many women and horses as you need to rebuild your tribe.”
His knife traced another line going northeast. “Then you can return to these mountains far to the north and rebuild your clan. If you remain north of the Isogi river, you can help guard Orak’s borders. We’ll establish trade with your people, and even give you protection should you need it.”
Esk kar planted the blade firmly in the earth.
“How will this satisfy Shan Kar?” Subutai’s curiosity got the better of him. “Even if we’re victorious, the Alur Meriki will still be undefeated.”
Careful, this has to be said properly. Esk kar took a deep breath. “The Alur Meriki have planned this attack on Orak for many months. All their marches and raids have been done only to put their full might against our village. They know we’re fortifying Orak and building a wall, but they think we cannot stop them. If they fail to capture Orak, if they are forced to move south without taking the village, then they will have failed in their plan. By fighting alongside us, you’ll help defeat the Alur Meriki in a great battle. That should satisfy the Shan Kar.”
Whether it did might be open to debate, but it offered a way to save face and would look a lot better than fighting to the death without any hope of survival. And another battle would satisfy honor. Esk kar put his hands on his knees and leaned back. He’d made the offer as best he could.
Now Mesilim would have to decide.
The Ur Nammu leader pondered Esk kar’s words for a long time. “The Alur Meriki will return in another ten or fifteen years,” he said finally.
“Even if you drive them away now, you may be defeated later.”
Esk kar and Trella had talked about that possibility often enough.
“Times are changing, Mesilim. I believe that when the Alur Meriki return, all of the countryside around Orak
