Sam Barone: Dawn of Empire

He squeezed her to him again. Much too late, he knew, for such a choice.

Besides, he remained as much in her spell tonight as that first night when she came into his arms. His fate had been sealed then, and his life would revolve around her until the spell was broken or until one of them died, and perhaps not even then, if the gods’ promise of an afterlife held true.

“We’ll stay, Trella, and we… both of us, will rule in Orak.” He reached out to touch the wall before him, the gritty feeling oddly satisfying. “Our blood is already in these walls. You’re right. There must be a new wall, greater than this.”

Trella laid her hand on top of his. “The wall will hold our voices for a hundred years, perhaps even two hundred. As long as the wall stands around Orak, we’ll be remembered.” She turned her head slightly to look up at him. “I can help you rule over a great village.”

“You will guide me in all things, and I will protect you.” He barely heard her next words, so softly did she speak them.

“Protect us, Esk kar. I carry your child. Now you must protect both of us.”

He lifted her chin up and looked into her eyes as he’d done that first night. “You’re with child? When were you planning on telling me?”

“If Orak fell, then there was no need. I didn’t want to give you something else to worry about. It’s still months away, but I’m certain I carry our child. Annok — sur agrees.”

She turned again, still staying within his arms, but now she faced out toward the fields. Deep shadows hid the dead bodies scattered across the plain. Except for the faint glow from behind the hill, the darkness was nearly complete. Fewer campfires would burn tonight, Esk kar knew.

“There’s so much to do, Esk kar. You must control the soldiers, establish outposts and villages up and down the river, overcome those who resist, and plan for the next barbarian migration.”

She sighed. “The livestock and grain must be brought back from across the river. There will be more fighting, Esk kar, but in the future you’ll be leading it, not fighting yourself, not ever again. In all the time we’ve been together, I’ve asked you for nothing for myself, but this you must promise me. The great sword must stay in your scabbard.”

That might not be such a bad thing, Esk kar decided, his thoughts flashing back to that terrible fight in the Alur Meriki camp. He was getting old.

Even among the steppes people, hard fighting was best left to the young.

He brushed away such thoughts from his mind. “I’ll leave the fighting to others,” he said finally, unable to keep a hint of regret from his words, “but I’ll keep your sword at my side, in case it’s needed.”

He took a breath. “And you will have to decide how to rule Orak, what customs and decrees will come to pass, what families to ennoble, how we will get enough gold to pay for the soldiers and for rebuilding Orak and everything else we will need. I see there’s as much work in keeping power as winning it. Yes, there is much for you to do, Trella.”

The sun had set completely now. The darkness before them stretched all the way to the hills. When she spoke, the question surprised him. “What would you name our child, should the babe be a son?”

He thought a moment, then shrugged. “I know only barbarian names, and they’re not fit for our son, who will rule Orak after us. And villager names are as one to me. Do you have a name that you would choose?”

“I’d like to honor my father, since I owe so much to him. His name was

‘Sargat.’ If you allow, we could name our son after him.”

Esk kar, still getting used to the idea of being a father, considered her request thoughtfully. Even among villagers naming a son was the husband’s responsibility and not something to be passed off lightly. But her father’s name did not convey the qualities of a leader. It was an ordinary name, used by many.

Esk kar knew some names had power of their own, as certain words had influence over men. He had no preference for any name himself, but still…

“Sargat… it’s a good name, but a common one. Our son should have a name that shows strength and power.” He thought again. The name

“Sargat” had no equivalent in his native tongue, but if he had to translate it…

“Suppose we call him Sargon. That’s a name that I haven’t heard before and it seems to me to carry strength. Would that honor your father?”

“Sargon,” she repeated, saying the strange name aloud, as if listening for the gods to approve. “Sargon. Yes, that is a fine, new name and it honors my father as well. He will be called Sargon, and he’ll give honor both to his grandfather and his father.”

“Sargon, who will rule the village of Orak,” he repeated.

“No, Orak is no longer a village. It has grown into something greater.

It is a city, with a wall and brave men to defend it, a city that will grow in strength and have greatness of its own. For the first time villagers and farmers joined together and resisted the barbarians. Who knows what we can do in the future?”

“It should have its own name, then, a new name, like the name of our son,” Esk kar suggested. “Maybe we can think of a new name for Orak as well.”

“Can you choose a new name for Orak, then? A name that will make them forget the old village, and instead remind them of you and your victories?”

Esk kar kept silent for a long time, thinking about names of places.

Trella, as always, let him take his time. “When I was a boy, we spent part of a summer far to the north, by a tiny stream we called the Akkad. I saw my first lion there. It was the last happy time I had with my family.” He smiled to himself at the distant memory. “How does ‘Akkad’ sound for the name of our city?”

“Akkad… Akkad. Esk kar of Akkad… Sargon of Akkad. Yes, it’s a strong name, Esk kar, like your own. Perhaps the lion spirit will approve, and give his protection to both Sargon and the city of Akkad. But let’s not tell the others yet what new name we plan for Orak. The new name can come in its own time, when everyone sees what we have accomplished.”

So the City of Akkad would come to be in a few months, or whenever she thought it was ready. He understood her reasons. The village had endured so much change in the past months, with more to come. It would be wise to let them get used to some things gradually.

A cool breeze rustled through the stillness and for a moment the air smelled clean and fresh. He heard the bodyguards, waiting below to give them privacy, shifting their feet, probably impatient to join the revelry.

“Since there is to be so much work tomorrow, then perhaps you could find time tonight to please your husband.” His hands moved up from her waist and he cupped her breasts and squeezed them, enjoying the feel of her body through her dress. That, too, hadn’t changed from their first night. Her body, the scent of her hair, even her smile still excited him. “Or have you already forgotten your wifely duties?”

She leaned her head back and placed her hands atop his and pressed them to her. “No, master, I await your pleasure.” Her voice was soft and her tone as seductive as that first night in his bed, only now she sounded happier than he’d ever heard her.

Esk kar shook his head at the mystery of women. “Sometimes I wonder, girl, who was the master and who was the slave.”

Her answering laugh sounded low and enticing, and they turned away from the darkened battleground and its dead. They faced the village, brightly lit by many torches and fires as the villagers celebrated their deliverance. His village now… no… his city. And someday, if his luck stayed true and the gods approved, it would be his son’s. But tonight-tonight there would be more magic, and tomorrow would take care of itself.