enemy bowman went down in the first volley. Another took up the fallen man’s weapon, but Klexor’s five archers poured volley after volley of arrows at them. Both enemy bowmen went down by the third volley. The next volley struck down two more. One Egyptian killed himself, falling on his sword rather than be captured. The last three, one of them wounded, charged at their attackers and died, the deadly shafts taking them down long before they could close the distance.
Bantor and Naram-tanni ignored the fighting behind them. They kept moving, racing at full speed after the two horsemen, by now almost out of sight. The gap began to close. Bantor’s horses might not be as fresh as the ones Ariamus rode, but the best horseflesh always wound up in Akkad, and these mounts now proved their quality over the stolen farm animals. When the horse Bantor rode started to tire, he slowed to a walk and leaped onto the second animal without dismounting, and broke into a gallop, abandoning the tired horse to be recovered by Klexor’s men.
The distance had closed to less than three hundred paces when one of the horses ahead of Bantor stumbled and went down. The rider, caught looking behind at his pursuers, landed hard. Bantor saw the man’s dark skin and galloped ahead. “Kill the Egyptian, Naram-tanni,” Bantor said as he swung wide around the dismounted man and galloped after Ariamus.
Naram-tanni pulled his horse to a stop about a hundred paces away, nocked an arrow, and waited, watching his quarry. The Egyptian looked fit and hard, and Naram-tanni didn’t want to waste shafts trying to hit a dodging target. He decided to wait. Klexor and the rest of the soldiers would be arriving soon.
The Egyptian drew his sword and stood there, waiting for Naram-tanni to advance. Moments passed, until he realized the horseman wasn’t attacking. Suddenly he burst into a run, coming straight toward the mounted archer.
Before the Egyptian had covered half the distance between them, Naram-tanni turned his horse aside and cantered off, glancing back to make sure he stayed just ahead of the Egyptian.
Exhausted by the chase, the Egyptian stopped and waited. Naram-tanni guided his horse back until another hundred paces separated them. He sat there, staring. Naram-tanni had plenty of time, and the Egyptian wasn’t going anywhere. The sound of hoofbeats floated over the grass, and Klexor and two other men rode into view, each of them leading a spare horse.
“The other bandits are all dead,” Klexor said, when he reached Naram-tanni’s side. “Let’s take this one alive.”
“I don’t think this one is going to throw down his sword,” Naram-tanni said.
“Put a shaft into him,” Klexor ordered, readying his own bow. “That’ll change his mind.”
Looking a little dubious, Naram-tanni dismounted. He handed the halter to Klexor, and started walking forward.
The Egyptian, determined to sell his life, charged again, lifting his sword and shouting something incomprehensible.
Naram-tanni waited until the man closed to within a dozen paces before shooting. His shaft flew at the man’s legs, but the Egyptian leapt aside, and the arrow hissed by. But before he could change his path again, a shaft from Klexor’s bow followed, this one reaching the charging man a moment before he could close the gap between him and Naram-tanni.
Struck in the leg, the Egyptian went down. He struggled to stand, but his leg gave way. Before he could recover, Naram-tanni, sword in hand, closed in. With a savage overhand thrust, Naram-tanni knocked the Egyptian’s weapon from his hand.
With Naram-tanni’s sword’s tip at his chest, the exhausted and wounded man yielded. Naram-tanni held the prisoner that way, until Klexor joined him.
“What’s your name, Egyptian?” Klexor put his sword point at the man’s throat, as Naram-tanni sheathed his weapon, took a halter rope, and moved toward the prisoner. He pushed the Egyptian down, and began tying his hands in front of him.
“I asked you for your name,” Klexor repeated, this time jabbing the sword tip into the man’s chest just enough to draw blood, and loosen his tongue.
“Hathor, leader of thirty, in the service of Korthac.”
“You speak our language well, Egyptian dog,” Klexor complimented him. “And you’ll get to see your Korthac soon enough.”
“Korthac is alive? We thought…”
“Oh, he’s alive. Lord Eskkar broke his nose, half-blinded him, and cracked his leg.” Klexor laughed when he saw that the man didn’t believe him. “By himself. They fought man to man in the upper room. Your Korthac didn’t fare too well in the encounter.”
For the first time, Klexor saw defeat in the man’s face. By then, the rest of the men had reached them. “Pull that arrow out of his leg and bind it up. Then put him on a horse. Eskkar may want to talk to him. So make sure he stays alive.”
Picking up his bow, Naram-tanni mounted his horse. “I’ll go after Bantor. He may need help.”
Klexor grinned. “Wait for me.”
Bantor rode steadily, carefully watching the ground before him. A misstep, a broken leg, and Ariamus might get away. The distance narrowed faster now, as Ariamus’s weary horse stumbled more and more often. Bantor saw Ariamus glancing behind every few paces.
When the gap shrank to less than a hundred paces, Ariamus gave up.
He slowed the tired horse to a stop and drew his sword. “Well, where’s Eskkar?” he called out. “Was he afraid to face me himself? Or did the Egyptian kill him?”
At twenty paces, Bantor pulled up his horse and drew his own sword, noting the bloody bandage wrapped around Ariamus’s left arm. “Eskkar is well and sends his greetings. He asked me to bring you back alive, but I think I’d rather kill you myself.”
“I’m here, Bantor, waiting for you. Or are you afraid, too? Even your wife wasn’t afraid. She got down on her knees fast enough, and begged for more.”
“Your horse is finished, Ariamus. I’ll fight you on foot. If you win, you can take my horse before my men get here. Otherwise I’ll wait, and we’ll bring you down like any jackal, with arrows.”
Ariamus looked around. He didn’t like the offer, but he had no choice.
Bantor’s men couldn’t be far behind. He slid off the horse. In a fit of anger, Ariamus smacked the sweat- soaked animal with the flat of his blade, and the startled horse lumbered off a few steps before halting again, its weary legs splayed out, blowing air from its nose.
Dropping his bow, Bantor dismounted. He tossed the halter rope to the ground and walked toward the former captain of the guard.
“You’re an even bigger fool than Eskkar,” Ariamus said, baring his teeth in a wide grin. “There never was a day you could beat me with a sword.” With a shout of rage, Ariamus closed the distance, swinging the sword high in a feint, then sweeping the blade low toward Bantor’s legs.
Bantor moved a step to the side, letting Ariamus’s blade pass within a handsbreadth, and countered with his own stroke.
The clash of bronze rolled over the land, sending a flock of birds squawking into the sky. Ariamus fought with the desperation of a wounded animal trying to escape a trap, determined to get rid of his opponent; he knew the rest of Bantor’s men would be close behind. If Ariamus hadn’t taken a wound, he might have done better. But Bantor met every stroke and knew every trick. Like all the Akkadian subcommanders during the siege, he’d practiced against Eskkar and other top swordsmen for months.
The minute he sensed Ariamus tiring, Bantor swung wide, leaving an opening for his opponent. But when the blade flashed at his stomach, Bantor slipped aside and hammered down, aiming not at his opponent’s body, but where the sword arm would be.
In a gush of blood, the blade clove deep into the forearm bone. Ariamus screamed, and his weapon fell from his nerveless fingers. Bantor never stopped. Another stroke took Ariamus in the knee, staggering him to the ground. A hammer blow descended on the man’s collarbone, shattering that. Then a low thrust into his right side pierced his lung. Ariamus, blood gushing from his mouth, fell onto his back, eyes bulging, unable even to cry out in pain.
Standing over his opponent, Bantor spat in his face. He put his own sword aside, and picked up Ariamus’s. “This is for Annok-sur. And for me.”
