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Sam Barone

Dawn of Empire

Prologue

– The eastern bank of the river Tigris, 3158 B. C. E…

The village lay before him like a lamb trapped by a pack of wolves.

Thutmose — sin halted his sweat — soaked horse on the crest of the hill, while his men formed up on each side. He surveyed the plain beneath him, taking in the crops in the fields and the irrigation canals that watered them. His eyes soon fixed on the village barely two miles away.

There the Tigris curled sharply around the cluster of mud huts and tents that nestled against it. Today the river that brought the very sustenance of life to the dirt — eaters would be the obstacle that prevented their escape.

Those who hadn’t fled already, Thutmose — sin corrected himself. He had planned to catch the village by surprise, but word had preceded his band, as it so often did. The warriors had ridden hard for five days with little sleep. Despite that effort, the dirt — eaters had received a few hours’ warning. News of his approach must have traveled down the river, faster than a man on a horse. Even now, Thutmose — sin could see a few small boats paddling frantically to the far side of the Tigris. Those lucky ones would use the river to elude the fate he had planned for them.

His men had settled into place. Nearly three hundred warriors formed a single line across the hilltop, with Thutmose — sin at their center. Each man strung his bow, unslung his lance, and loosened the sword in his scabbard. They had done this so many times that now they spoke little and needed few commands, as they prepared themselves not for battle but for conquest. Only after the weapons were ready did they look to themselves.

Every rider drank deeply from his water skin, then emptied what remained over the head and neck of his horse.

His second in command, Rethnar, pulled up just behind him. “The men are ready, Thutmose — sin. ”

The leader turned his head, saw the eagerness in Rethnar’s face, and smiled at the man’s excitement. Thutmose — sin looked left and right along the line, and saw that every tenth man had raised bow or lance into the air. The warriors were more than ready. Their reward for the days of hard riding awaited them. “Then let us begin. ”

With a touch of his heel to the horse’s ribs, Thutmose — sin started the descent, the men following his lead. They took their time negotiating the downslope. With fresh horses, they would have raced down the incline and covered the last two miles in an exuberant rush. But after five days of riding, no man wanted to risk a valuable but weary horse-not with the end of their journey so near.

When they reached the plain, the line of horsemen became more ragged as the land flattened out. Small bands of riders detached themselves from the wings and began sweeping the countryside. They would search the outlying fields and scattered farmhouses, driving any inhabitants toward the village.

The main body of warriors cantered through fields of golden wheat and barley, Thutmose — sin at their head. They soon reached the broad, well — trodden path that led up to the village. Two minutes at a smooth gallop and they had passed the outermost dwellings.