expected. Instead, Eskkar slid onto his left knee, and thrust the point of his sword into Shulgi’s exposed armpit, the weapon’s tip piercing the laces that bound Shulgi’s breastplate and stopping only when the blade bit against the shoulder bone.
Shulgi whirled around and struck downwards, but Eskkar had already rolled away, wrenching his sword loose and regaining his footing. Blood poured down Shulgi’s side as he advanced again. He lunged at Eskkar’s head with his sword, and Eskkar nearly failed to raise his blade in time to parry the stroke.
The Sumerian king tried to raise his sword for another attack, but his arm muscles refused to obey, and Eskkar struck the weapon aside with his own. Shulgi flung himself forward, raising his shield and trying to smash into Eskkar and bring him to the ground.
Eskkar closed in, lowering his left shoulder and smashing his body against the shield. Shulgi, moving slower, couldn’t shift to the side as he done before. Eskkar’s weight now flung Shulgi backwards. The Sumerian’s heel caught on the outflung leg of a body and he crashed onto the trampled earth. The sword fell from his hand. Shulgi looked up, unable to lift his right arm, already growing weak from the blood loss that streamed down his right arm and side.
Shulgi tried to recover his sword, but Eskkar placed his left sandal on the blade, pinning it to the ground. He had to take two breaths before he could get control of his words. “I told your father
… he should have stayed in Sumer. You should have learned from what happened to him.”
Blood now soaked the ground beneath Shulgi’s arm. The Sumerian glanced at his right arm, already covered in blood, and then laughed. “A trick… to keep yourself alive. The mighty Eskkar.” He coughed, tried to laugh, then coughed again, this time spewing blood from his mouth onto his chest.
“Enough talk, Sumerian.” Eskkar thrust down, not with his sword, but with the lance in his left hand. The slim bronze tip tore into Shulgi’s throat and buried itself in the earth. His eyes bulged with pain, then rolled up into his head. The body twitched for a moment, then lay still. The boy king of Sumer had at least died bravely, fighting to the last. A warrior’s end, and better than his father’s.
Eskkar didn’t care. He straightened up, letting go of the lance, and looked around the circle of men. It had grown in depth, and it seemed as though half the Akkadian army had stopped and watched the brutal demise of Shulgi’s ambitions.
A cheer started, at first just a few men, then more, until everyone joined in. The realization that they had not only won the battle, but destroyed the enemy and killed its king sank in. They had survived and would live. The jubilation rose in intensity, until every voice shouted the same refrain. “Akkad! Akkad! Akkad!”
He let the chant go on, until their voices ran out of breath. Eskkar raised his sword, forcing himself to keep the blade steady. “You’ve won a mighty victory!” Another cheer answered him. “Now on to Sumer!”
This time the roar shook the battlefield. A new cry went up. “Death to Sumer! Death to Sumer!” It went on and on, this time accompanied by the clamor of men crashing swords against shields, until the sound came from every voice and floated from horizon to horizon on the warm air.
T wo miles away King Naxos of Isin sat on his horse, his advisor Kuara at his side. The two men had slipped out of the city, and ridden south before swinging around to the east, taking care not to be seen by the handful of Eskkar’s men still guarding the ditch. All over the horizon, they saw hundreds and hundreds of men running or riding away, all of them heading south. Many would flee to Isin, but Naxos had already given orders to admit only those who could prove they lived there.
Suddenly, a roar ascended into the heavens, a mighty cheer that echoed over the ground.
“That will be Shulgi’s death knell,” Kuara said, shaking his head in disgust. “His army is destroyed. Now Eskkar will march to Sumer and tear it down.”
Naxos shook his head. “I doubt it. The Sumerians would be fools to resist, and Kushanna is anything but a fool. She’ll slip away, or come up with some idea to turn aside the Akkadian’s sword.”
“Well, if anyone can talk their way out of trouble, she’s the one. Do you think Eskkar will turn his fury on Isin?”
“He may be a barbarian,” Naxos said, “but he’s no fool, either. He knows he’ll need as many allies in Sumeria as he can get. With Larsa gone and Sumer’s wealth exhausted, Akkad needs our trade to recover, just as we need theirs. No, he’ll keep his word and spare our city.”
“Then we’ll have to ally ourselves with him.” Kuara sighed. “Still, it may not be so bad, if Akkad directs its trade to Isin. In a few years, we’ll be strong again.”
Naxos had reported his encounter with Eskkar to his advisor, but hadn’t mentioned that Eskkar had invited him to visit Akkad. “Perhaps I will visit the barbarian’s city for myself.”
Kuara glanced at him. “You’d put yourself within reach of Trella’s power? Why would you risk your life to go there?”
“Ah, to meet Lady Trella, of course.” Naxos laughed. “Sooner or later, Eskkar is going to get himself killed. Some day she may need another strong leader to protect her.”
Kuara shook his head. “If what Eskkar told you is true, you just escaped Kushanna’s poison, my king. I don’t think you should be taking yourself from the path of one viper and placing your neck in front of another.”
“Well, we’ll see about that. After all, only the gods know what the future holds.”
“I doubt if that particular future is in the stars.”
Naxos laughed. “Well, the years will tell us. Now let’s get back to Isin. We’ve got to fill in that ditch as soon as possible.”
T he first thing Razrek felt was a fly buzzing around his face. He lay flat on his back, something hard pressing against his spine. His eyes refused to open, and all he could make out was a reddish haze. Blood, he decided. It took all his strength to raise his hand and rub it across his eyes. First one eyelid, then the other broke loose from the dried blood, and the fierce mid-morning sun nearly blinded him. Razrek closed his eyes and tried to ignore the pain. Something had struck his head, but he couldn’t remember…
The silence washed over him. He heard no sounds of fighting, no horses crying out, nothing. Razrek used the pain to force himself fully awake. The battle had ended. No matter which side had won, he had to get to a horse.
“Here’s another one still alive.”
Razrek squinted into the sun, but couldn’t see the speaker. He tried to sit up, but a foot planted itself firmly on his chest.
“This one’s a commander, at least,” another voice remarked. “Look at that fancy knife!”
Razrek twisted his head and gazed upward. A boy had moved into view over him, a bulging sack slung over his shoulder and a long knife in his hand.
“Should be good for a few coins.”
Another boy joined the first, his shadow blocking out the sun. Razrek saw a sling hanging from the second boy’s neck. He, too, carried a long knife in his hand. Both blades, Razrek realized, were stained with fresh blood.
“Should we take him to Shappa? He may be someone important.”
“And give up what he’s carrying? Your wits are slow today, little brother.”
Before Razrek could reach for his knife, the second youth dropped down and thrust his blade into Razrek’s neck. The powerful stroke sent the sharp point straight through the flesh and into the earth.
Pain lanced through Razrek’s throat and head. He flailed his arms, trying to grasp the knife, but already he felt blood gurgling up. Choking, he thrashed about, but the pressure on his chest increased. His muscles failed him, and the pain slipped away. His eyes remained open, and words still reached his ears.
“Look at this purse! We’ll never have to work again!”
“Hurry, before anyone sees! Strip the body. He may have more concealed in his tunic.”
For Razrek, the bright morning sun faded to darkness as the two slingers finished looting his dead body.
B y sundown the Akkadians had established a camp about a mile north of the battlefield, every man and beast stumbling wearily northward until they reached the chosen site. The burst of energy after the defeat of the Sumerians had faded. Exhaustion set in, as well as sadness. Many in Eskkar’s army had died, though not as many as he’d expected. The wounded — and there were many — needed to be cared for. With the river now clear of Shulgi’s men, more riverboats arrived to deliver food and take those who could not walk back to Akkad.
Eskkar sat before the fire, staring into the flames. Every muscle in his body ached. His right arm still felt numb, and he’d had trouble controlling his horse on the brief ride upriver.
