Empire Rising (60 page)

Death to all traitors!” His men took up the cry, screaming the words into the darkness as they raced to the leftmost tower, Drakis raising his sword as he ran. He hurtled over the dead bodies just as four men burst out of the tower’s entrance, swords in their hands.

But two of them saw what looked like a hundred demon shadows rushing at them, and darted back inside the tower. The others raised their swords, and one swung his blade at Drakis’s head. Drakis screamed his war cry even as he parried the thrust. Then he let his momentum carry him into the man’s chest, and he used his shoulder to knock the man to the ground, then thrust hard with his sword.

Wrenching his sword free, Drakis flung himself inside the tower’s dark opening. A shadow moved before him, and he struck at it, screaming “Eskkar! Eskkar!” The words rang up into the darkness. Here, deep within the tower’s base, almost no light penetrated. Normally a torch burned inside the doorway, to light the steps that led to the top. The careless guards had let it go out, too lazy to replace it with dawn approaching.

Drakis pushed forward; he needed to destroy the defenders as quickly as possible, before they could regroup, before they realized that they still outnumbered their attackers.

The guards inside the tower reacted slowly. They’d been caught relaxing, most of them asleep. Jolted awake, unsure of what was happening, the gatekeepers fumbled for their swords, trying to fend off what seemed like a horde of ferocious attackers. Some fled up the stone steps, bumping into those trying to come down.

Drakis reached the base of the steps, and saw a man coming at him, stumbling in the dark. Drakis had the advantage—anyone in front of him must be an enemy. He lunged upward, arm extended, and felt the sword bite deep into muscle.

His victim screamed as the blade pierced his thigh, and Drakis felt hot blood splatter his arm and chest. The stabbed man tried to step back, but the wounded leg failed him, and he pitched off the steps, crying out as he fell.

The other defenders stopped their descent, bunching up at the first landing. Drakis never hesitated, pushed on by his men sounding their war cries behind him. He hurled himself up the steps, toward the guards, still screaming Eskkar’s name, the confines of the tower amplifying his voice into something inhuman, something full of menace.

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Another guard turned away, to scramble back up the steps, but lost his footing and fell to the stairs. Drakis swung his sword down viciously at the man’s back, ignored the scream as the blade cut deep into the man’s shoulder, knocking his opponent to the steps. The rest of the guards fled back the way they came, anything to get away from the demons charging at them. Drakis stepped on the wounded man’s back, and raced up the stairs two at a time.

Behind him, his men filled the tower with a wall of sound. An arrow launched by one of Drakis’s men hissed by, followed by a scream as another guard pitched off the steps, falling heavily to the ground below.

Drakis ignored it all, shouting his war cry and sprinting up the last stair-way until he reached the opening at the top of the stairs. Another guard met Drakis at the top of the stairs, a sword in his hand, but Drakis struck at him so quickly that the man didn’t even have time to attempt to parry the stroke. Knocking the wounded man aside, Drakis, breathing hard, pushed his way out of the darkness and onto the tower’s battlement. He saw shadows moving about and naked blades glinting in the starlight, as the tower’s defenders rallied their forces. “Eskkar has returned!” he shouted, and charged straight at his opponents.

24

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A riamus woke before dawn, a lifetime habit that had served him well, whether for fighting or fleeing. He’d gone to sleep late last night, once again in Korthac’s new residence. Ariamus would have preferred sleeping in his own house, the one he’d appropriated for himself. Nicar, the former ruler of Akkad, had lived there for more than ten years. Ariamus had enjoyed ordering him out. Now the wealthiest noble in the city and his entire family lived in a wretched one-room mud hut, and counted themselves lucky to have even that.

Unfortunately, Korthac wanted Ariamus close by, and Ariamus had swallowed his objections and accepted his leader’s “invitation” to take a room in the big house. In many ways it had turned out to be a good idea.

Ariamus had a half-dozen subcommanders who pestered him constantly with questions and petty problems. Having to pass by Korthac’s Egyptians, grim men who spoke little and fingered their sword hilts often, helped Ariamus avoid his men in the evenings.

He thanked all the gods he’d ever heard of that Korthac didn’t have a few dozen more Egyptians. Instead, Korthac needed Ariamus and the men he’d recruited. Not that Korthac trusted Ariamus or his men. Ariamus didn’t have much faith in them either. He had few enough experienced fighters, men who could do more than follow orders and swing a sword. In a few more days it wouldn’t matter. He’d be riding out into the countryside, recruiting more displaced and desperate men willing to do whatever he told them for a chance to eat and earn some silver. With enough followers, even inexperienced ones, they could hold the city indefinitely.

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Dawn still hadn’t risen when Ariamus finished dressing and stepped out of his room, the one closest to the kitchen. To his surprise, he heard Korthac’s voice coming from the upper rooms. Climbing the stairs, he found the Egyptian seated at the big table, a lamp casting a soft glow around the big room. The ever-present guard stood a few steps behind his master, watching the inner room but keeping one eye on Ariamus as well.

“Did the slave deliver her child?”

“Yes, about an hour ago.” Korthac frowned at him. “You haven’t heard her screams? She woke the whole house when she finally delivered.”

“A woman screaming in the night?” Ariamus laughed, a booming noise that filled the room. “Never keeps me awake.”

Korthac cut the laughter short with a look. “Are you ready to ride out today?”

“Yes, lord.” Ariamus managed to look properly subservient. “I’ll ride to the east. I should be able to get another ten or twenty farm boys to join up with us, one way or another.” Ariamus planned to take a dozen men and begin visiting the big farmhouses surrounding Akkad. The local farm-holders had plenty of silver, women, and other valuables, and Korthac wanted to make sure they felt no safer on their farms than did the city’s inhabitants. Ariamus intended to pick up some more booty along with the recruits, after enjoying their women.

“Make sure you’re back by sunset,” Korthac said. “And I want you to ride north, toward Dilgarth, not east. I haven’t heard from Ziusudra, but I expect this Eskkar is dead by now. Just in case he isn’t, I want more patrols along the road, if he tries to move against us.”

Ariamus shrugged. “Even if he’s alive, what can he do? With less than seventy men? I wouldn’t be surprised if he stays where he is, or runs to the west.”

Korthac sighed, a long breath that made Ariamus regret his light-hearted words. “No, the barbarian will come here. I’ve learned much about him in the last few weeks. He won’t give up such power without a fight.

And there is something about his whore”—Korthac inclined his head toward the bedroom—“that will bring him back.”

“Ziusudra’s a good man, more than good enough to take care of Eskkar,” Ariamus said, shifting his feet and wishing he’d been invited to sit down. “You’ve promised him plenty of gold for the job. Even if he fails, it will take Eskkar a few days to figure out what’s happened, so we’ll have plenty of time to prepare.”

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Annok-sur appeared at the bedroom door and bowed low, keeping her eyes on the floor. “Master, may I fetch fresh water for Trella?”

Ariamus looked at her and grinned. “Maybe you can carry something for . . .”

A crashing sound echoed throughout the house, coming from below.

For a moment, Ariamus and Korthac looked at each other. Then a shout in Egyptian came from the courtyard, and even Ariamus had no trouble understanding the message. He moved to the landing and looked down into the darkened room below. The main door remained closed. Then heavy steps echoed from the kitchen area, and again he heard men shouting Eskkar’s name. Louder footsteps sounded below, and Ariamus ground his teeth with an oath.

Stepping back from the landing, he yanked the door shut, then dropped the heavy wooden bar across the braces.

“What is it?” Korthac rose to his feet, though he remained behind the table. The guard moved beside him, hand on his sword.

“We’re under attack! Eskkar has returned.” Ariamus heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, then the door shuddered. A voice he recognized called out “Trella” again and again.

Ariamus backed away from the door. “It’s Eskkar! He’s here!” Something heavy pounded on the door, making it shake against the braces. Ariamus pulled his sword from its sheath. Damn the barbarian. How had he managed to get into the city, inside the compound? Not that it mattered.

He turned to face the Egyptian. “Where are your men, Korthac?” Almost in answer, the sound of men fighting rose up from the courtyard.

“Stop her!”

Korthac’s voice made Ariamus turn. He saw Annok-sur, who’d shrunk against the wall when the noise started, dart past him toward the door.

Ariamus lunged to catch her, but she slipped beneath his arm, reached the doorway, and flipped the bar up from its catches, shouting Eskkar’s name.

Ariamus caught her by the hair and dragged her back, but the door burst open, crashing against the wall and outlining a looming shadow holding a long sword.

Cries of alarm sounded across the courtyard. Eskkar knew Korthac’s men would be spilling from the doors behind him, swords in their hands. “Keep them pinned inside,” Eskkar shouted, hoping Mitrac’s ar-Empire Rising

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chers could contain that threat. Then over all the clamor, Eskkar heard Grond’s voice, bellowing out to him.

“Captain, come here.”

Hearing the urgency, Eskkar abandoned his assault on the main entrance and rushed to his bodyguard’s side. The kitchen door stood open.

A half-asleep servant had opened it, either to let the attackers in or just to find out about the commotion. Whatever the motive, Grond had already pushed his way inside, and Eskkar followed behind him. The two men rushed through the kitchen, knocking a stool aside, toward the dark corridor that led to the main room. They’d barely cleared the cooking area when two shadows stumbled into the hallway from one of the sleeping chambers.

One of them cried out as Grond struck the first man down and grappled with the other. Eskkar ignored them, pushing both men aside. He knew the house even in darkness, and he ran past the other two doorways, turned the corner, and took the steps that hugged the wall two a time. At the landing he pushed against the door to the workroom, but found it, too, fastened. Nevertheless, he flung his weight against it, but this barrier, as strong as the one below, scarcely budged. Calling out Trella’s name at the top of his lungs, he pounded on it with the hilt of his sword.

To his surprise, he heard a woman’s voice call his name. The sound of the bar rasping against the door caught his ear, and he shoved the thick planks, pushing the door open. Light from the upper room illuminated the landing, and he saw Annok-sur there, struggling with someone who reached out to slam the door closed. Eskkar shoved his shoulder against the thick wood and forced his way in.

The man stepped back, knocking Annok-sur down with his fist even as he raised a sword in the other. Only a single oil lamp burned in the outer chamber, but the wavering flame gave more than enough light for Eskkar to recognize his opponent.

“Ariamus!” All of Eskkar’s anger and hatred went into the name. He’d despised the man every day that he served under him, and now Ariamus stood here, in Eskkar’s private room. His sword lunged out, a straight, quick thrust that should have pierced his enemy’s heart.

But Ariamus sprang back, then countered with a powerful thrust of his own. Another man, black bearded and dark skinned, no doubt one of Korthac’s guards, appeared at Ariamus’s side and thrust his sword as well.

Eskkar knocked it aside, but yielded a step, the long sword cumbersome 356

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in this kind of fight, with no room to swing the blade. Both his attackers pressed forward and Eskkar, weaving the blade between them, had to take another step backward as he fended them off. One more step and he would be back on the landing, the door closed in his face again.

Suddenly Ariamus cried out in pain, stumbled, and fell to his knees with a curse. Annok-sur clung to Ariamus’s leg, her teeth fastened to his calf. The distraction gave Eskkar the moment he needed. He took a half-step back, ducked down, then lunged forward. The foreigner shifted to parry the blow, but Eskkar stretched out his arm and extended his body into the thrust. The guard managed to deflect the point from his stomach, but the blade buried itself in the man’s side, and he gasped in pain. Eskkar tried to free the sword, but the man staggered against the wall, his body holding the blade fast.

Eskkar twisted the hilt and the man shrieked in agony, dropping his sword as his hands clasped the blade that burned within him. Eskkar rushed forward, lowering his shoulder into the wounded guard and knocking him backward. At the same moment, Ariamus smashed the hilt of his sword on Annok-sur’s head, freeing himself from her clutch. He drew back his sword, but before he could thrust forward, Eskkar leapt toward him. He slammed into Ariamus, pulling the big sword free from the dying Egyptian as he did so.

They grappled. Too close to use his sword, Eskkar dropped his weapon and seized Ariamus in both arms, pinning the writhing Ariamus before his enemy could bring his weapon into play. Something blocked the light for an instant, and Eskkar knew someone moved behind him. Keeping his arms locked around Ariamus, Eskkar whirled around, keeping Ariamus between him and whatever danger threatened.

Eskkar caught the flickering flash of the blade in the lamplight, and Ariamus screamed as a sword pierced his upper arm. Lifting Ariamus off the floor in a burst of rage, Eskkar threw the man at this new attacker, stopping the third man’s advance for an instant, until he shoved Ariamus hard against the wall. The former captain of the guard slid to the floor, dazed and clutching at his arm.