The Chronicles of Gan: The Thorn (23 page)

Jonathan stood with Eli, Pekah, and Tavor,
all dressed in Gideonite armor. A breastplate large enough for Eli
had been found and brought to the camp during the previous
evening’s meal. He wore it proudly.

Searching for either Captain Amon or the
general, Jonathan spied Jasher apart from the camp, talking to
Abigail. Eager to get Jasher’s opinion about leaving right away, he
motioned to the others, and they started walking. As they
approached the couple, Jonathan realized they were whispering. He
held back, not wishing to interrupt any conversation intended to be
private, but Jasher noticed them and waved them over.

“Good morning, Lady Abigail and General
Jasher,” Jonathan greeted.

Abigail smiled and bowed. The general
stepped forward and gripped the heir of Daniel by the hand.

“What a beautiful morning it is!” Jasher
exclaimed.

“I don’t mind a little rain, but it
certainly is nice to see the suns again after a day of total gray.
Far better for travel, too.”

“With weather like this . . .” Eli said with
a suspenseful long pause and a yawning stretch, “I am going to need
another breakfast.”

“You would eat three, if offered,” Tavor
chided with a wink.

Eli appeared shocked at the accusation, and
then sheepishly shrugged his shoulders in a most exaggerated
manner, causing his bright red beard to bunch up.

They were interrupted by the noise of horses
riding fast from the north, and all turned to see who approached.
Two Gideonite soldiers, both with wavy hair as black as night, rode
up to the small group, pulling their mounts to a stop. The tallest
one dismounted first and held both horses in place, but the
shorter, stronger one jumped from his perch, heading straight for
the general.

“General Jasher,” he declared, “I am Zev.
Ilan and I have been sent by General Rezon to deliver an important
message to the emperor. Where can I find him?”

Jasher studied them, but did not answer.

Something peculiar about
these two
, Jonathan thought, watching them
closely.

“The emperor is not in our company,” Jasher
finally replied. “Can we talk about this message privately? I can
then take you to Manasseh, if need be.”

Ilan shot Zev a troubled glance, but did not
speak. Zev straightened and, with a wry smile, said, “Yes, sir.
Would you like to walk for a minute?”

Jasher consented and motioned for the rest
of the group to remain as he joined the two riders. Zev and Ilan
led their horses by the reins, and the three of them went a short
distance in the direction from which the two soldiers had just
come.

Zev whispered. From where he stood, Jonathan
couldn’t hear a word of their conversation. Meanwhile, Ilan
frequently peeked over his shoulder, his expression puzzled. On his
third glance back, his countenance changed to fear.

“Did you see that?” Tavor said in a low
voice.

“Yes. The Gideonite just realized that
Jasher travels with Daniel and Uzzah,” Eli replied.

Abigail stepped close to Jonathan, who stood
next to Eli and Pekah. “Why are they each wearing a glove on the
right hand?”

Pekah turned white as wool and grabbed
Jonathan’s shoulder in alarm. “I’ve heard rumors of secret
alliances within Gideon. They make pledges in blood, cutting their
right hands.”

Abigail gasped.
“Something’s wrong!
They’re going to hurt
Jasher!”

Jonathan’s jaw clenched. Pekah’s eyes lit up
with fire as he yanked his sword from its sheath, the sound of
scraping metal heard by Jasher and the two soldiers. They turned to
see. Recognizing that their situation had become very precarious,
the two soldiers backed away from the general, putting Jasher
between themselves and the others. Jasher startled, arming himself
in a second.

Zev’s reflexes were as quick as a cat. He
was on his horse, spurring it northward, before anyone could move
to stop him. Ilan too attempted to mount, but before he could get
in the saddle, Eli threw a sizable rock and hit him in the back
with such force, he was knocked to the ground. Jasher pounced, his
sword tip pressed against Ilan’s neck.

Jonathan grabbed for an arrow from his
quiver, but realized his unstrung bow was of no use. He drew his
own sword and stepped next to Pekah for support as Zev disappeared
behind a rising cloud of dust.

“What is your message for the emperor?”
Jasher thundered, pressing his sword point harder against Ilan’s
neck.

Ilan did not respond. He lay on his side,
wincing. Jonathan and the others approached, weapons in hand.
Jasher backed away as Ilan was encircled. Ilan’s gaze darted all
around at the Gideonites, Danielites, and Uzzahites above him. He
trembled in fear.

Before Ilan could be stopped, he whipped out
his belt dagger, placed the tip against his chest, and rolled over
on top of the blade, choking out a pain-filled yell. Jonathan
leaped forward, trying to grab Ilan’s shoulders, but was too
late—Ilan gasped for breath, then stilled. Frustrated, Jonathan
dropped to a knee and flipped him over.

Abigail let out a soft scream and collapsed
into a pile on the ground. Jasher ran to her, and Eli followed to
help. The general lifted her sobbing frame into his arms, having
some difficulty keeping her limp body from dropping again. The rest
of the men gathered around, watching with great concern as Jasher
consoled his wife.

After several minutes, Abigail was strong
enough to stand on her own. She wiped the tears from her eyes onto
the sleeves of her slim green dress.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, nearly sobbing
out the words.

“I am fine, my love. I am fine.” Jasher
rubbed her shoulders tenderly until she stopped shaking.

Abigail sniffed, then pulled her raven-black
hair into a knot. She managed to give Jasher a thin smile.

His hand still on her shoulder, Jasher
turned to address the men. “I didn’t see what happened before Pekah
drew his sword. What made you all suspect something was wrong?”

With great admiration in his voice, Jonathan
said, “Abigail noticed it. She asked why they were wearing a single
glove.’”

Jasher squinted as if confused.

Pekah explained. “Her observation reminded
me of a rumor I heard while serving under Captain Sachar—General
Rezon has placed men under a blood oath to kill his enemies. They
make the oath by cutting their right hands.”

Jasher’s eyes grew as large as apples. He
looked at Jonathan, then at Pekah.

“They were going to kill you!” Abigail
trembled, her body swaying.

Catching her, Jasher pulled his dear wife
into his arms once again.

Chapter 20

Uzziel

J
ust after dawn, Uzziel the High Priest stood on the outer
city wall of Ramathaim and peered over the crenellations toward the
steep hillside below, hoping to catch some view of the army in the
distance. He grumbled, still unable to see much of anything. Rains
from the previous day caused a lingering, thick fog to enshroud the
entire landscape, including the slopes of Bald Mountain over which
the sister suns were rising. It would be another hour or so before
they would be able to burn off the mists.

Josiah and Abram stood nearby, fully armed,
with bows ready. Even though they were occupied with their own
thoughts, their presence made the old high priest feel safe where
he stood. Uzziel peeked over the battlements again, thinking about
the previous evening when visibility had been hampered by the
storms that rolled through. He hoped clearing skies would soon
allow him to catch a glimpse of the progress being made below.

The Gideonite army had been camped there for
the last four days, building embankments and connecting them with
trenches. The trenches provided cover—the only way for the
Gideonites to stay safe from an onslaught of arrows from skilled
Uzzahite warriors. Each time Uzziel had checked, piles of earth and
deep ditches were ever closer to the city walls.

Uzziel analyzed the strategy he had
previously observed, marveling at the careful, deliberate planning
being done by the Gideonite army. Clear paths on both sides of the
advance had been left completely untouched by pick or shovel, along
with a wide patch of ground next to the road from Hasor, running
straight up the middle. This would allow siege machines and other
heavy equipment to advance into position eventually. Yesterday,
Uzziel had caught a glimpse of covered battering rams and weighted
catapults being built. He expected the damage inflicted by the
machines would be terrible.

Worried, Uzziel leaned against a merlon and
looked over his beloved city. He felt gratitude for what he
saw—elegant architecture and tactical design. Ramathaim nestled up
against the Hara Mountains, its northern gates wedged far into a
wide canyon leading to Karmel and other cities of Uzzah and Daniel.
Two other semi-circular stone walls, each reaching for anchor
points on opposite sides of the gaping canyon mouth, protected the
southern side of the city. Skilled stone masons had anchored the
gray granite blocks of the outer wall to the eastern and western
cliffs, and the height was a dizzying drop of more than two hundred
feet. The inner southern wall, although not as high, rested on the
top-most terrace of a network of stepped gardens, orchards, and
vineyards. A vast, arcing courtyard touched both the bottom terrace
and the outer wall, unbroken except for a sloping road which
climbed from the outer gates, up the terraces, through the main
gates, and into the city.

Besides being the fastest way to the
northern realms, the canyon provided a plentiful water supply to
the city. Fed by natural springs, the small river descended from
the heights above to duck under the northern wall, disappearing
into numerous tunnels under the city streets. Various branches of
the hidden river then poured into open-air stone canals that
zig-zagged across the city until all routes met again at a
beautiful pool in Ramathaim’s eastern quarter. Water then spilled
over into an aqueduct that hugged the eastern cliffs and bridged
the city walls. Reaching the end of its journey, the water
plummeted into a small lake below the outer wall, and the remaining
stream then meandered through the southern foothills until it
turned east to the ocean.

As he looked northward, Uzziel thought of
the reinforcements who had arrived the previous day. In addition to
families seeking protection, warriors from neighboring communities
to the north had poured into Ramathaim, greatly adding to its
strength. The provisions they brought with them would easily allow
the city to endure a siege of over ninety days, if the walls were
not breached. Many of the northern cities had been emptied of their
inhabitants, and a thousand of their men were staged in the
northern canyon to protect both the passage and Ramathaim’s water
supply.

All of this gave Uzziel some amount of
confidence. Reinforcements and provisions were blessings from
above. As long as the southern walls held, families would be
protected.

Families.

Uzziel searched below for the road to Hasor,
but still couldn’t see through the fog. Previously guarded emotions
bubbled up within him.

Where are Asah and Rachel? They are now five
days late.

Uzziel’s chest
tightened.
With Gideon here, may the
heavens keep my daughter away!

He caught an unexpected sob before it could
escape and gripped the parapet to steady himself. Neither of the
attending soldiers seemed to notice his body trembling under the
control he tried to exert. It took him several minutes to fight
back the grief that threatened to overwhelm him.

With a heavy sigh, Uzziel motioned to Josiah
and Abram to follow him back down the steep steps into the grassy
outer courtyard. “I will come back later,” he said. “Perhaps with
more time, the fog will burn off.”

“That’s fine. We can go,” Josiah
replied.

Uzziel led the way. Already girded up, his
robe was held in place by a coarse, white sash, but the steep
decent still forced him to further lift the lower folds in order to
prevent a fall. His robe, almost entirely white except for the
exquisite blue hem, bounced on his bony knees with each step down
the granite stairway.

Pushing thoughts of Rachel out of his mind,
Uzziel thought instead of the colored hem. “As blue as the heavens
above,” he was fond of saying, or as his wife Miriam would say, “As
pure as the color of Azure.” Both were good descriptions for the
rare color, produced from saltwater shellfish obtained in one
particular lagoon a few days north of Karmel.

Uzziel was comfortable in the simple garment
of a temple priest. The coarse, white cloth accentuated his
red-streaked hair and long, well-groomed beard, also nearly white.
Miriam said all the white caused him to look much older than he
really was, perhaps even distinguished, but it still suited him
well. Thinking of her made him smile.

Once on flat ground, his rapid pace across
the courtyard made it hard for Josiah and Abram to keep up. They
seemed to be distracted by everything around them, watching for any
sign of danger within the city walls. When they reached the far
side of the grassy courtyard and approached the main city gate,
they were hailed from above. Gigantic wood doors, made of beams
thirty feet long, groaned open to receive them.

The three men passed the sentinels posted
inside the doors, expressing their appreciation, and the doors shut
behind them. They followed the cobbled pathway across a second,
much smaller, interior courtyard where several groups of soldiers
were preparing arrows and other arms. Uzziel took the second street
on the right that immediately began to ascend. Buildings bordering
the street leaned in on them, getting closer with every step, until
the width of the passage became barely wide enough to allow two
horse-drawn carts to pass each other. The cobbled road steepened
further.