Sam Barone: Dawn of Empire

The ram crashed against the gate once again and this time its fire hardened tip penetrated the wooden structure. As the ram’s head withdrew, some of the archers fired at the opening, and Esk kar heard a scream from the other side.

“Keep shooting,” he ordered, moving well away from the gap as the archers loosed a volley, a few shafts going through the narrow, jagged opening. Then the ram, repositioned slightly, smashed into the next set of vertical logs. Four more times the ram struck before another log snapped in two.

The ramming stopped for a moment, as warriors with axes pried at the weakened logs. Then the ram began its hammering again. It took less than a dozen strokes before another pair of logs gave way. The din increased, as more axes hammered at the loosened logs, widening the aperture. A warrior tried to climb through the breach and was riddled with arrows that knocked him backward from sheer force of impact.

Esk kar gripped his shield and drew his sword, then turned to Grond and the bodyguards. “We have to stop them here. They can’t be allowed past the gate!” He grabbed the nearest bodyguard and shouted in his ear.

“Make sure the archers hold their fire when we move to the breach. Go!”

The man nodded and raced back to the line of archers, who stayed in their rough line, still loosening their arrows at the opening. Alur Meriki shields appeared, pushed through the breach, protecting the attackers massing behind them. Esk kar and Grond gave out mighty shouts and rushed toward the gap.

The attackers shoved their way through the narrow opening, crouching low and using their shields to avoid the defenders’ arrows. Rushing forward, Esk kar had no time to worry about an arrow in his back from his own men.

Raising his shield to his eyes, he took four quick steps and crashed against the shield of the first Alur Meriki warrior. Caught off balance, the man reacted slowly, stumbling in the jumble of beams and splinters, and Esk kar took a half — step back and swung the great sword down on the warrior’s head.

Again Esk kar lowered his shoulder behind his shield and shoved with all his might, pushing the dead body into the man behind him.

Battle fury took all of them, as Esk kar, Grond, and four soldiers formed a half — circle around the breach and defended it with a ferocity that surprised the attackers. The defenders were fresher, while the attackers had been working the ram or ducking arrows in the hot sun without water for nearly two hours.

The first wave of Alur Meriki fell back, driven by the vicious blows of Esk kar and his companions. But as the defenders exulted, a second horde of screaming attackers, seeing victory within their grasp, fought their way through the opening, a gap that grew wider as the enemy outside kept hammering away with their axes.

These attackers wielded lances as well as swords. They quickly widened the half — circle of warriors who had pushed through the opening. Eskkar struck again and again, using his shield to turn their swords and spears and striking at anything within reach of his great sword.

Suddenly a loud voice behind them commanded, “Down!”

Esk kar and his men responded by habit, so well trained were they, dropping to one knee and ducking their heads under their shields. A wave of arrows flashed over their heads. Instantly Esk kar and the others arose.

They’d practiced this tactic so often that now they did it without thinking.

The volley had stopped the invaders for a moment. Esk kar and his men, behind their shields and thrusting with their swords, attacked the wavering men before they could recover, forcing the warriors back. The besiegers gave ground for a moment, but once again fresh warriors pushed their way through the ever — widening breach into Orak.

Esk kar and his swordsmen anticipated the next command, and when the shout of “Down” came again, they dropped, letting another flight of arrows cross over them before they rose and again rushed the barbarians.

The Alur Meriki hesitated, taken aback by this strange tactic, not used to fighting swordsmen and archers at the same time. Before they could recover, Grond pushed his way nearly back to the breach, carrying a dead man pinned to his shield and hurling the body into the opening.

Swinging his sword over his head, Esk kar brought it crashing down with all his strength on a warrior’s shield, slicing through it and into the man’s arm.

More defenders surrounded him. A spearman pushed in front of Eskkar, even as fresh swordsmen arrived. Twenty swords now blocked the opening. But surprisingly, no new attackers tried to force the breach, so Esk kar stepped back and looked up at the gate. The upper parapet hung crookedly from its supports, but men continued to hurl stones down on their attackers. Only now they shouted with glee and worked with renewed energy. Something strange was happening, but he had no idea what.

Esk kar turned to Grond. “Hold them here.” He needed to see what had happened in the ditch. Racing to the right side of the gate, he dashed up the steps, nearly knocking over two men carrying baskets of rocks up to the defenders, and continued all the way to the parapet. He felt it sway precariously under his weight and hoped it would hold a while longer.

This time Esk kar didn’t bother with a shield, just looked over the top of the gate, standing back to be out of sight of any archers beneath him.

What he saw stunned him. Warriors were turning back, moving away from the ditch and running to the rear. Others backed away more slowly, firing their bows as they retreated. From the sides of the village, horsemen galloped back toward the plain, urging their horses hard and ignoring the fi ght at the gate. To his surprise they didn’t slow their mounts, even when they passed out of range of Orak’s arrows. They were racing back to their camp, but he didn’t understand why.

He squinted into the sun as he looked toward the highest hilltop, ignoring the sweat that ran into his eyes. That looked different, too. More than a dozen smoke trails rose into the cloudless sky from the Alur Meriki camp.

The fires themselves couldn’t be seen, but they burned near the northern portion of the Alur Meriki main camp.

He saw movement all over the hilltop. More men came running down the hills toward Orak to join the battle. No, by the gods, they were women!

Women running away from the camp. And dozens of riderless horses galloped toward Orak as well. Something had stampeded the animals. Another movement, something different, caught his eye and he strained to make out what it was.

On the crest of one of the highest hills a lone horseman stood, wheeling his horse and waving his lance high. Attached to the lance hung a long streamer. Even at this distance, Esk kar could make out its yellow color as it rippled in the breeze. The rider waved it for a few more moments, ignoring the rapidly approaching horsemen, before he leisurely turned away and galloped over the hilltop and out of sight.

“What is it?” Sisuthros stood at his side, breathing hard, his left arm covered in blood. “What’s happening?”

Esk kar tried to laugh, but his dry throat wouldn’t permit more than a cackle. A wheezing villager came behind him with a bucket of water destined for the fire below. Esk kar grabbed it and poured it over his face, filling his mouth at the same time.

“Can’t you see, Sisuthros,” he answered when he’d slacked his thirst.

“That was Subutai, and by the gods, he’s ridden clean through their camp!”

“They’ll catch him for sure, won’t they?” Sisuthros’s voice showed concern.

Esk kar turned his gaze back to the vacant hilltop. He laughed now, his throat refreshed. “Subutai’s not that foolish. I’m sure he put his horse to a full gallop the instant he left the hilltop. He’ll have a hard run to escape them, but he’ll make it. He must have raided the camp, burned some tents, stampeded the horses, and made sure the Alur Meriki knew he was there.