Battle For Empire (The Eskkar Saga) by Barone Sam

Author:Barone, Sam [Barone, Sam]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9780985162658
Publisher: Eskkar Enterprises
Published: 2012-11-26T16:00:00+00:00

18

Sargon woke in the predawn with Garal’s foot pushing against his ribs. It took a few moments before the harsh words penetrated, and by then the pressure of the warrior’s foot increased enough to roll Sargon over onto his side.

“Get up. Ride.”

Without waiting, Garal strode to his horse, unfastened the halter, and swung himself up. “Ride.”

Sargon’s anger rose, but he knew there was nothing he could do. The sooner they got to water, the better. Swearing under his breath, he reached his horse and fumbled with the halter. The animal was skittish. Like its master, it had grown accustomed to being fed and watered each day. It took all of Sargon’s agility to keep a grip on the animal’s mane and climb onto its back.

As soon as Garal saw Sargon astride, the warrior turned his mount toward the west and set his horse to a canter. Sargon decided that he might as well vent his anger at both Garal and his own misfortune aloud. The barbarian didn’t understand the Akkadian language anyway. Sargon cursed his companion as an ignorant savage and one that Marduk and Ishtar would soon send to the burning pits below for punishment.

Sargon’s anger soon faded, to be replaced by a parched throat that seemed to have rubbed itself raw from lack of water. He felt the weakness in his body, and the slowness of his movements. His lips felt parched and dry. He’d never imaged that a single day without water could weaken him so.

No wonder his father had defeated the Alur Meriki so easily. And today, his nervous and thirsty horse required even more attention than it had yesterday.

Garal’s horse exhibited none of these problems. The warrior tried to set the same pace as he had yesterday, but by midmorning, Garal realized the Akkadian mount needed more frequent periods of rest. Once Sargon had to fight to keep control of the animal, when it shied at a bush tumbling across their path. The result of their slower pace saw midday come and go, with still no sign of water. Of course there was nothing to do but keep riding.

By now Sargon could barely keep his seat, and the ground seemed to waver under the horse’s hooves. Thirst had sucked the strength from his body, and his youthful vigor had vanished many miles back.

In the end, it was the horse that saved Sargon from tumbling ignominiously to the ground. First Garal’s mount, then Sargon’s, caught the scent of water ahead. Both animals responded with a second effort. Still, they had to traverse more than a mile before they reached the water.

No river or even a stream, only a small sinkhole of brackish water, surrounded by a wide border of mud. Animal tracks and droppings covered the ground, indicating the water was drinkable. Sargon didn’t care. His horse forced its way through the soggy ground and thrust its nose deep into the water. Sargon slid from its back, landing on his stomach, with his face in the water.

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