The Chronicles of Gan: The Thorn (25 page)

Josiah said in a whisper, “They don’t
realize they’ve been seen. Let us light our arrow. We’ll send it as
a gift and make the siege engine burn!”

Eager to comply, Abram nocked the arrow, and
Uzziel put flame to it. Abram waited a few moments to let the fire
encompass the entire tip, and then swung around to the nearest
crenel, letting the arrow loose.

It was nearly to the target before the
Gideonite soldiers reacted to the tell-tale whistle. They yelled in
alarm when the arrow firmly embedded itself in the exact center of
the catapult’s throwing arm. Several scrambled out of the way and
sent their own arrows flying toward the wall, but much too late to
hit any mark. One man yanked the arrow from the catapult arm and
stomped on it to extinguish the flame. Only a singed streak was
left behind on the war machine.

“I think we should get off the wall!” Uzziel
chuckled.

Josiah assisted Abram to move Uzziel away
from the parapet, then the three of them ducked out of sight and
bounded down the stairs from which they had come. The other
Uzzahite warriors at the fire-pit were now armed. One soldier
stepped forward, introduced himself as Samuel, and offered a large
shield. He insisted that Uzziel walk under it, and helped Josiah
and Abram to hold it above the high priest’s head. They hurried
across the grassy court and up the ramped road to the protecting
inner wall of Ramathaim. They darted through the open gate, and
Uzziel thanked Samuel, who then dismissed himself. A loud crash and
rumble came from the direction they had just come.

“They’ve used the machine!” Abram
exclaimed.

Without comment, Uzziel ran back out and
stood next to Samuel. Josiah and Abram caught up with him, and the
four of them watched as a flood of Uzzahite warriors assembled from
every direction, helmets and shields flashing in the morning rays.
With amazing speed, the troops fell into columns, with arrows
ready. A spotter on the wall signaled the direction of the catapult
and provided the archers with directional angle for their aim, and
then he dropped his other arm as if it were a mallet. Like
lightning striking from the heavens, a volley of arrows—some
flaming and some not—arced over the outer wall. They heard screams
in the distance, and the spotter reported that many of the
projectiles had found their mark.

In perfect harmony, each of the Uzzahite
warriors lifted a shield from the ground to create a protective
ceiling over themselves. Just as they had anticipated, a return
volley whistled over the wall and bounced like pebbles thrown all
around them. Again, the shields were dropped, and another strike
was delivered by the Uzzahite archers. The spotter on the wall
signaled that the catapult was now unprotected.

Twenty archers with flaming arrows assembled
on the wall. After three swift salvos, the spotter signaled that
the machine burned. The warriors’ loud cheer burst skyward. Uzziel
leaned forward, straining to see for himself if the spotter’s
report was true, his heart pounding in his chest. Like a leaf
caught in a sudden gust of wind, a pillar of smoke rose over the
wall. Uzziel danced.

Chapter 22

Plans

F
amiliar sights of industry bordering the river told Jonathan
they were very close to Saron, city of the plains. Flowing
northward from the direction of the Geber Pass, the Saron River
held both gristmills and lumber mills upon its grassy shoulders.
Each appeared to be untended, although water wheels continually
sloshed in the river.

Jonathan stood in the stirrups, but a gentle
rise before the advancing army still hid their destination from
view. Even though he could not see the city with his eyes, he
remembered its charming characteristics well—a tiny blue lake fed
by a spring at its center that eventually emptied by way of canal
into the river, wandering streets paved with brown bricks, round
adobe buildings with thatched roofs, and small parks of trees where
the citizens could gather to socialize in the evenings.

Quaint as it may seem to a visitor, Saron
was in reality a very busy place. Artisan shops of every variety,
markets for commodities and handcrafted wares, bustling bakeries,
storehouses, and especially the efficient mills drew the masses to
Saron, transforming it into a center of trade and industry.
Jonathan had been there many times himself. Every day, apart from
the Sabbath, scores from each tribe would arrive to sell their
goods and purchase needed items. Sometimes the streets were so
clogged with people, Jonathan could barely move, but he didn’t
mind. He was used to the crowds.

As the army crested the hill, Jonathan could
see Saron sprawled out before him. It spread across the rolling
plain like the branches of a fruit tree—some portions dense, and
others mere offshoots. Seeing a particular area of the city where
he had done business before, he pointed out the familiar location
to Rachel, who rode next to him. Engrossed in conversation,
Jonathan hardly noticed crossing the rest of the distance from the
hill.

When they gained the outskirts of the city,
they found themselves near one of the livestock trading areas.
Daniel, Uzzah, and Gideon always traded with each other in Saron—it
was a completely natural and common sight. But now Jonathan stared
in wonder at the gathered throng near animal pens where the proud
banners of Gideon, Daniel, and Uzzah flapped together in the
breeze. Only the colors of Daniel had ever flown there before.

Jonathan guessed that the
messengers dispatched earlier in the morning had gathered the crowd
when he recognized one of them
rushing to
greet Jasher, who now rode nearby. The soldier saluted as he
approached.

“General Jasher, the city has been secured.
All prisoners have been released. They await your arrival.”

“Excellent!” the general replied. “And our
men?”

“All patrols have been called in. They have
been informed.”

Jasher hailed the crowd that had swelled
into hundreds, then waved the army forward, leading the way. Many
people along the roadside lifted their hands to touch the riders as
they went by. Once at the center of the throng, the general raised
his arm, and the procession came to a stop. After the crowd
quieted, Jasher shared the events of past days. Even though he had
heard the story before, Jonathan listened intently.

“My brothers from Daniel and Uzzah, it is my
desire to end this war,” Jasher said as he finished recounting what
had happened in Ain. “I now ride with Jonathan of Daniel and many
of your friends from the northern cities of Uzzah. Saron is free.
You may return to your homes—but I need the help of those who are
able. Together we are strong. We must stop General Rezon. Will you
join me?”

The crowd cheered. Many able-bodied men
stepped forward and pledged their support.

Jasher again waved them onward, and the
entire crowd followed. Many of the Danielite residents of Saron,
freed by Jasher’s arrival, peeled off from the entourage to return
to their homes. Progress through the city slowed. Excited children
ran to and fro through the crowd. One child rushed up to her home
and hugged the adobe walls before entering with her mother. The
sight of her happiness thrilled Jonathan. He caught Rachel looking
over at him with a sparkle in her eye, and he winked at her.

When Jasher turned onto the road to Hasor,
Azure and Aqua were burning high in the sky. The army halted for a
much-needed rest. This allowed others to catch up, including the
many men of Saron who had previously departed to check on their
homes. They returned bearing additional provisions and weapons.
Only those with young families stayed behind, but word came that
they had committed to assist the families of those who were
leaving, making the cause of peace a communal effort.

After loosing their horses to graze upon the
slopes bordering the road, Jonathan stood upon a small hill with
his friends and surveyed the scene. Amongst the crowd he could see
banners representing every tribe—the green and white of Gideon, the
purple and white of Daniel, and the blue and white of Uzzah. A
gentle breeze made them all wave proudly. Underneath the high
banners, the gathered multitude appeared as dew upon the grass.
Jonathan smiled.

Jasher approached and pulled Amon aside, but
not out of hearing range. Jonathan watched with interest as Amon
received orders from the general.

“Place, or find, captains of fifty within
each tribe,” Jasher directed. “Then place over every three captains
a more senior captain to lead them all.”

“You wish to make units of one hundred and
fifty?” Amon verified.

“Yes. And I want to mix the tribes. Three
groups of fifty—one from each tribe.”

“Very well, sir. We have enough from Uzzah
to form perhaps three or four of these units, but not more. What do
you wish to do with the rest of Daniel and Gideon?”

“You may mix them in a similar fashion, I
suppose, but with two groups of fifty from each of the tribes.”

“And their colors? Do you wish each fifty to
fly their own?”

“Precisely. When we find Rezon, I want him
to see what has been done. I want him to see The Brothers together
and be surprised. Astonishment—that is what I am after. What do you
suppose Rezon will think when he sees us?”

Amon laughed. “I know
what
I
would
think.” He saluted, then departed to relay the orders to the other
captains. Jasher walked off with his entourage of messengers and
aides in tow.

“How far is Hasor from here?” Pekah
asked.

“Slightly farther than you made me march the
day before the Suns’ Crossing.” Eli grinned from ear to ear. When
Pekah began to laugh, Eli shouldered him off balance as he had on
the day of his rescue, and chuckled.

“Don’t hurt my bodyguard,” Jonathan
scolded.

Rachel drew close and took
his hand in hers. “Your
bodyguard
?” she asked.

Pekah’s face reddened.

“Rachel,” Jonathan said as he gestured
toward the young Gideonite, “Pekah saved my life. The day before
you and I were reunited, we came upon a Gideonite soldier who was
not happy about the three of us traveling together. Pekah stepped
in front of an arrow meant for me.”

Pointing to the small dent and crack in
Pekah’s breastplate, Jonathan added, “Here is the testament to his
deed.”

Rachel leaned forward to see it better, then
looked up at Pekah, her eyes wide. “You weren’t hurt?”

Shaking his head, Pekah said, “Only a
scratch.”

Rachel gave him a warm smile. “The Great
King rewarded your selfless act by protecting your life. You are
very brave.”

Embarrassed, Pekah looked away, but replied,
“Thank you.”

Jonathan’s attention was diverted by two
Danielite women making their way through the crowds of soldiers. He
couldn’t make out what the taller woman said, but she held
something, showing it to everyone. Each person she approached
responded, “I’m sorry, I have not.”

Once the women were close enough, Jonathan
could discern what the woman had in her hand. Both of the women
recognized Jonathan and bowed their heads in respect.

“Jonathan, Son of Samuel, please help me,”
the taller woman pleaded. “We are looking for our husbands. My
husband is Benjamin, son of Daniel . . .”

“And mine is Simeon, son of Saul,” said the
other. “Benjamin is wearing a token like this on his quiver.”

The lace ribbon she held matched the one
found on the Danielite soldier’s quiver strap just outside of Ain
on the road from Gilad. Jonathan swallowed. “Yes. I have seen them,
my dear ladies.”

At first their eyes lit up with excitement,
but when they saw Jonathan’s countenance, fear clouded their
faces.

Jonathan carefully reached into the hidden
pocket beneath his tunic and pulled the forgotten items from
safe-keeping. He opened his hand, revealing a tight roll of lace,
hair sticking out both ends. Next to it was a beautiful silver
ring, a small lock of hair attached.

The sight made the women gasp. One of them
was so shocked, she seemed to be frozen in place. The taller
woman’s hand trembled as she took the lace from Jonathan’s open
hand and stared at it in disbelief. Tears welled up in her eyes.
She searched her companion’s eyes, and the two of them embraced,
sobbing uncontrollably.

Rachel wept with them.

About this time, Abigail returned from an
errand, smiling and happy, but she stilled as she witnessed the
mood of the group. Seeing Rachel trying to console the women, she
joined them, asking what she could do to help.

Jonathan still held the ring. Rachel
whispered with a sniffle, “Let me give it to her. Do you mind?”

He placed it in her hand. Tears from
Rachel’s eyes fell into his beard as she kissed him on the cheek.
He did not bother to brush them off, but Rachel noticed and did it
for him.

Making their way a few paces off, the men
left the women alone to talk, but still watched over them. Abigail
seemed to offer words of comfort. After a while, the crying
stopped, and the women talked in low voices. Jonathan saw one of
the women staring at her keepsake of ribbon. He thought about his
actions in the forest, grateful he’d had the presence of mind to
retrieve the belongings. He wondered if the women ever would have
known what happened to their husbands if he hadn’t noticed that
ribbon.

Somber, Jonathan and the others made their
way over to several horse carts that had arrived with provisions.
After taking a few bags of the items being distributed, the men
found a place to sit on a hill by the road. They ate in silence as
they watched the women talk.

Tavor frowned. He cleared his throat. “Eli,
what should be done with Rachel when we get to Hasor? The
battlefield is not really a place for her.”