Empire Rising by Sam Barone

enemy in battle could be considered a boy, let alone someone who had killed as many as Mitrac.
    “Is something wrong, Captain?” Mitrac said, surprised at Eskkar’s unexpected visit. “I thought you would be at the gate.”
    Eskkar sat down at the roof ’s edge. “No, Mitrac, I just want to see what’s happening, and I could see nothing from the gate.” Looking out over the fl imsy palisade, Eskkar saw a half-dozen women working on one of the closest irrigation channels. Part of the embankment had collapsed, either of its own accord, or because some bandits had ridden their horses through the soft sides.
    Three women stood in the ditch, in brown water reaching their knees, as they scooped the mud from the channel back onto the embankment.
    Only one had a shovel. The others used clay shards or even their hands to pick up the mud and pack it into place. As Eskkar watched, Nisaba came into view and stood at the edge of the ditch. She would be trying to reassure the women and keep them at their task. The village had to appear as normal as possible to the returning bandits.
    “The women are frightened, Captain,” Mitrac offered. “They keep looking to the hills.”
    “Well, they’ve been raped and beaten enough times.” He turned to the young archer. “Are you nervous as well, Mitrac?”
    “No, Captain, not as long as you’re here. Where you go, I can follow.
    You always know what to do.”
    Eskkar smiled at the boy’s trust. Mitrac and his bow had probably killed more barbarians than anyone else in Akkad. Eskkar hoped the young man’s confidence in his leader wouldn’t prove misplaced.
    “Let’s hope our luck holds, Mitrac.” Part of Eskkar’s reputation con-Empire Rising
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    sisted of his ability to anticipate his enemies. Luck had favored him more than once in the last few months. Trella had suggested the idea of trying to think like his enemies, to put himself in their places and to anticipate their actions. No doubt those efforts had helped the gods bestow their good fortune upon him and his followers. Now that Eskkar thought about it, his young wife had turned out to be the greatest piece of luck in his life.
    The women’s shrill cries turned his head back to the countryside, to see the women fleeing toward the gate. It took a moment before he spotted the band of horsemen. The bandits were approaching more from the south than from the east, where Eskkar had anticipated they would appear.
    He watched them ride toward the village at an easy canter, cutting across the fields and angling toward the path that led to the village.
    They would reach the trail in a few moments, and then there would be only the last five hundred paces to the village entrance. They rode in barbarian fashion, shouting their war cries as they galloped, intending to frighten and panic the villagers as much as possible. Eskkar stayed immobile only long enough to get an accurate count of the riders.
    “Damn the gods! I count eighteen of them. Good hunting, Mitrac.”
    Without rising, Eskkar slipped back down the ladder and raced to the main entrance. His ten men were going to be outnumbered. Today he would need all the luck the unpredictable gods could dispense. Eskkar reached the gate as the last of the women, breathing hard, stumbled back into the village.
    Then Nisaba walked through, still wiping her hands on her dress. She nodded at him as she passed by, letting him know that all the women had returned. Eskkar took up a bow and nodded to the two soldiers on the other side of the gate. One of them had a bow in his hands, an arrow already fitted to the string, while the other man leaned against a low cart, the sort farmers used to display fruits and vegetables in the market. Eskkar knelt down behind a similar cart, his shoulder against the rough stakes of the palisade, and peered through a crack between the logs. He ducked back his head and fitted an arrow to his string. The bandits were only moments away. The rush of battle