Sam Barone: Clash Of Empires

Now, however, no one gave a thought to Sabatu. Yavtar’s next bellow ordered Daro to drop the sail. It also warned the crew that the moment of danger approached — against wind and tides, the boat needed to turn to the west. Every rower strained at the grueling labor, aware of what was at stake. If the Great Sea didn’t roll the ship over and drown all of them, the Star of Sumer would be driven far to the east, wasting who knew how many days of hard rowing to get back to this very location. And if that happened, they might find the Apikin and even more Elamite ships waiting for them.

Ignoring the sweat dripping from his brow, the pain in his knees, and the strain on his arms, Daro pulled at his oar with all the remaining strength in his body. To his surprise, Yavtar continued to guide the Star directly toward the heart of the Great Sea.

The roiling water smacked the Star’s broadside, and threatened to swamp the vessel. Daro heard the crew muttering. Turn the boat, head into the wind. Turn now . Daro’s mind echoed the same thoughts, but he trusted in Yavtar’s seamanship. The Ship Master knew more about boats and water than any man in the Land Between the Rivers.

Yavtar ignored the grumbling and kept the craft moving into deeper water for almost a mile, until Daro could just make out the thin line of sand that marked the shore behind him. At last, as Daro’s muscles weakened, Yavtar shouted the order to turn, even as he leaned all his weight on the tiller.

The crew of the Star of Sumer responded, summoning what little remained of their strength. For a moment, the vessel hung up in its turn, and a wave splashed over the bow, splattering the rowers with water and threatening to capsize the ship. A few men cried out, and Daro, too, thought their watery demise had come.

But Yavtar knew both his crew and his boat. Suddenly the Star leveled out and lunged ahead, as the vessel slipped past the worst of the shoreline current. The crew’s day-long unrelenting labor had nearly ended, as the Star of Sumer at last reached the open sea. The craft had traveled far enough from the river’s mouth and the wind-tossed breakers. Now the boat rode gracefully in its motion, rising and falling with the water instead of struggling against it.

“Make headway!” Even Yavtar’s voice revealed a trace of relief.

With a chorus of sighs and groans, the oarsmen slacked their efforts, rowing just hard enough to keep the Star moving. Once again, a skilled Ship Master and an experienced crew had thwarted the powerful waves, driven by the wind from the west.

After gulping a long breath, Daro glanced behind him. The Elamite ship, powering its way through the choppy waters, had turned far sooner than the Star , clearly attempting to cut off the Sumerian ship. But the bigger boat could not handle the cross-currents that Yavtar had so carefully avoided. Before the Apikin could get its bow pointed westward, a wave spilled over the vessel’s side.

Daro watched, fascinated by the spectacle playing out before his eyes, only a few hundred paces away. He could hear the men shouting, the fear in their voices carrying over the water. Another wave splashed onto the Apikin’s pitching deck, and he saw three men tumble over the side and into the water. Despite the crew’s desperate efforts, the boat slowed its pace, and sealed its own doom. Two more waves pushed it broadside, and the next one swamped the boat.

Scrambling back to the stern, Daro watched the Apikin’s death struggles. “Can they make it?

Yavtar shook his head. “Too much water, and too much weight. There’s not enough time.”

And then it was over. The boat’s stern dipped beneath the sea. Men clung to the hull, as its bow lifted into the air for a moment, before sliding backward into the sea, pulled beneath the waves by the weight of water in its stern. Daro heard the sound of snapping beams. In moments, the ship, the crew, all had disappeared beneath the fast moving water.

“Will any of them get to shore?”

“Not here. The current’s too strong. Even if a few survive, they’ll be carried far to the east. It will be days before anyone gets back to Sushan.”

Daro hoped every single man aboard the Apikin drowned, but knew he would risk the sea gods’ anger to say something like that aloud. “Thank you, Yavtar. You saved all of us.”

“Let’s just hope your precious prisoner was worth risking our lives, and my lost cargo.” He swore again at the thought, then lifted his voice. “Up sail!”

The crew’s collective sigh of relief was loud enough to make Daro smile. He moved to the slender mast, ignoring the pain in his knees and the ache in his back. With the help of two crewmen, he dragged the heavy cloth up to its highest position. His hands, still stiff from holding the oar, fumbled with the fastenings. At last Daro secured the sail, taller than two men, and watched with satisfaction as it filled with air. The mast creaked under the strain and the boat heeled a little, while the crew cheered.

“In oars, men,” Yavtar shouted.

The groaning crew pulled in their oars, and slumped against the gunwales, too exhausted even to crawl to the water skins stored in the bow.

“Daro! Your friend is tossing about.” Yavtar’s voice resumed its usual rough growl now that the danger had passed.

No one on board, save Yavtar and Daro, knew Sabatu’s name. The crew remained unaware of their passenger’s identity or how the bloody and unconscious man had inexplicably appeared onboard the Star in the middle of the night. After today’s terrifying chase, they might guess at what had happened. Even so, the less they understood the better.

Daro moved to Sabatu’s side. A square of linen covered the sick man’s face, protecting him from the sun rays. Daro moved it aside.

“Where are we?” Sabatu had drifted in and out of consciousness since his rescue, and even when he appeared aware, his eyes looked vacant and unfocused. For this moment, however, his mind once again controlled his tongue.

“Out of the Karum River at last, thank the gods, and onto the Great Sea, heading west for Sumer.” Daro smiled encouragingly at his patient, even as he searched Sabatu’s face for any hint of madness. Men tortured to such an extreme often lost their wits, never to regain them. “With luck and a favorable wind, we’ll reach the mouth of the Tigris by midmorning the day after tomorrow.”

“Sumer.” Sabatu took a ragged breath, as he struggled with the knowledge of their destination. “I’ve heard of the city in the Land Between the Rivers.”

Daro nodded reassuringly at Sabatu’s words. But before Daro could reply, Sabatu’s head lolled back. Asleep or unconscious, Daro couldn’t be sure. He replaced the cloth over the man’s face.

“Will he make it?” Yavtar had disapproved of Daro’s rescue efforts. Whether Sabatu lived or died, Yavtar could never dare voyage to Sushan again.

“He’s strong,” Daro said. “And he’s a soldier. He’ll fight to live.”

“Well, if he’s going to die, let’s hope he dies before we get to Sumer. That way we can just dump his body and avoid all those prying eyes on the dock.”

Sumer would indeed be Yavtar’s first stop, but Daro knew the boat would be in port just long enough to pick up cargo and take on a new ship master. Then it would continue on to the Euphrates and its final destination port, the City of Lagash. Yavtar would ensure that the Star and this crew did not get back to Sumer for at least a month or more. By then, the memory of the injured and unnamed passenger would be well in the past and hopefully forgotten.

Yavtar, Daro, and Sabatu would disembark at Sumer, where another of Yavtar’s river ships waited to take them up the Tigris to the City of Akkad.