The Chronicles of Gan: The Thorn (26 page)

Jonathan agreed.

“If Rachel is told what to do,” Eli
explained, “she will probably do the opposite, out of spite.
Whatever we decide, Rachel will have to be asked. Gently
asked.”

“Eli’s right,” Jonathan said. “Rachel’s not
going to like being left behind. At the same time, I don’t want to
leave her in Hasor alone. There may be scouting troops from Rezon’s
army patrolling around.”

“What do you think about the oak tree in the
woods?” Eli asked with a wink.

Tavor’s eyes lit up.

Jonathan knew Tavor had been to the secret
cave, long ago when all of them were still young men. To Jonathan’s
knowledge, Tavor had never told a soul of the cave’s existence.

“Why a tree?” Pekah asked.

“Well, there’s a safe place to hide near the
tree,” Jonathan said.

“But we are the only three who know how to
get there,” Tavor interrupted. “One of us would have to take her,
but it would be improper for Jonathan or me to take her there
alone. It will have to be you, Eli, or the entire group.”

Eli nudged a stone with
his foot. “I’ll take her,” he grumbled. “She’s going to like it
even less than I will. My place is with
you,
Jonathan.”

“Thank you, Eli,” Jonathan said. He sighed,
staring up at the scattered clouds drifting far above, which
partially obscured Azure and Aqua from sight. He wanted Eli and his
nine Uzzahite warriors to stay close by, but did not feel
comfortable having Rachel as part of the advancing war party. He
wondered how Rachel would react when told Eli would take her into
hiding. The thought made him wince.

Chapter 23

Hasor

A
bsolutely not!” Rachel declared. “I will
not
be left in Hasor to wonder what
has happened to my brother
or
my betrothed! I’ve had that uncomfortable
experience once already this week, and I don’t care to have
another!”

Both Eli and Tavor flinched. Jonathan wanted
to argue the point, but the smoldering flame in Rachel’s brown eyes
made him think better of it.

Once the men had been silenced, Rachel said,
“Besides, I want to be near the battle this time. I can help the
wounded. I can encourage them.”

Jonathan relented. There was no way he could
deny her, and he knew Eli couldn’t force her. “Rachel—thank you.
The men will be grateful for your service.”

Her face still red, Rachel searched his
eyes. “Good!” She mounted her steed, her look smug.

“Move out!”
Amon gave the command above the crowd.

Jasher tromped up to the men and took
Jonathan privately aside.

“I want you and your companions to ride with
me near the banners of the tribes, if that’s acceptable.”

“It’s an honor,” Jonathan said as he
tightened his Gideonite breastplate.

Once again, Jonathan’s ears filled with the
rumble of hooves, a dust cloud rising above the riders. With the
beautiful weather they were having, it seemed more like a family
outing than a march to battle, but those false perceptions faded as
the day dragged on. Several places along the Hasor road still
exhibited signs of recent battles. Fresh gravesites reminded them
all of the seriousness of their quest.

* * *

Late in the evening, the walled village of
Hasor came into view. Jonathan pulled the reins back when Jasher
signaled the advance units to halt. Far in the distance, just north
of the village and outside its walls, loomed an exposed camp of
Gideonites. Campfires there already burned, smoke drifting high
into the air.

Jonathan retrieved his spyglass to get a
better view of the enemy. Jasher did the same. Jonathan admired the
general’s spyglass—ends of polished brass, cylinders of beautiful
cherry wood, three telescoping sections—then lifted his own
two-section scope, placing the sight to his eye.

The enemy camp was small,
its soldiers easy to count. Jonathan estimated the band to be about
forty men, none of whom paid any attention to the road from Saron.
Finished counting, he reached to
give
Pekah the spyglass so he could look. Pekah scanned the camp
briefly, then handed the scope back.

Jasher cleared his throat.
In a low voice to his captains, he said, “
Thus it begins
. . .”

Chapter 24

Messenger

S
omewhere over the walls of Ramathaim, a cock crowed. The
sound caused Rezon to roll over in his bedding with a groan. His
head still hurt from the night before when he had spent the evening
with his captains and drunk far too much. He pushed his sandy brown
hair out of his eyes and stared up at the top of his center tent
pole. He could just make it out in the growing light, surmising
that the suns were about to appear over the western peaks of the
Hara Range.

With some effort, he sat up and reached for
the clean clothing lying on a stool near his bed of piled furs and
blankets. He stood to dress. As he cinched his sword belt, he heard
shouting in the camp. A posted guard popped in to report, giving a
smart salute and then delivering his message like a springtime
downpour.

“General Rezon, the catapult we pushed into
position during the night has been attacked. Before we could use
it, the Uzzahites saw it. It’s burning. A few men were injured, but
none were killed.”

Rezon’s mouth twisted into
a scowl. “Was it
not
protected?”

The guard stammered as he tried to describe
the protections put in place, but gave up trying to excuse the
incident. “Yes, but Uzzah hit us too hard and too fast.”

Rezon waved the soldier away, who saluted as
he was dismissed. He reached for a crust of bread on his table,
left over from the day before, and washed it down with the final
drops in his wineskin. Temporarily satisfied, he loudly called for
assistance. One of his captains entered the tent, bearing some hot
breakfast. At the sight of the fresh eggs, fruit, and cheese, Rezon
wondered why he had finished off the old bread.

“Gad,” Rezon said with a growl, “what is
being done about the attack?”

Gad set the tray on the table. “Another two
hundred men have been stationed to assist the front line. Five more
catapults are being readied for use, and they will be pushed into
position at the same time. I do not think Uzzah can stop them
all.”

A smirk formed on the general’s face, but
changed to a frown. He glared at Gad as if the captain were at
fault for the previous mishaps with the siege engines. Gad
stiffened.

“I
will make sure they do not,” Rezon swore.

Gad left the tent, and Rezon sat to eat his
breakfast. After pushing the empty plate away, he took the
opportunity to inspect himself in a hand mirror. He retrieved his
leather headband to pull his hair back, and then straightened the
hem of his red tunic under his belt. The color of red on this first
day of battle was intentional. He moved the mirror around to get a
complete view, thinking that red did look good with his
soot-colored cloak and black leather pants.

As he stood there admiring his appearance,
his mind drifted to thoughts of his mother. He had her features.
Even his sandy-brown hair color was similar to hers. He remembered
her kindness—she had always been so patient. Rezon turned his face
to the side, searching for some of her better traits. Perhaps they
were there, but he couldn’t see them.

More like my father every
day
. He sometimes hated himself for that.
His father had been a cruel, harsh man.
Why can I not be more like my mother?
His self-analysis always came to the same conclusion: People
are weak. They do not understand kindness. They respond better to
other methods.

Rezon shook the memories away.

My mother was weak.

He left the tent and looked past six other
captains, who stood nearby, to see that the sister suns were well
above the tall, round-topped mountain fronting the western slopes.
He turned to inspect his best men and expressed his satisfaction.
Girded for battle, their leather caps edged in bloodstained wool
matched the exposed bottom linings of polished leather
breastplates, each painted with the Raven of Gideon. Most of the
breastplates were also adorned with jewels or trimmed with gold.
The captains saluted in unison with hands raised high, and the
general acknowledged them.

For the next hour, Rezon sat with his
captains around the campfire before his pavilion, discussing the
morning’s events and instructing them again on his strategy for the
day. “Once the catapults are ready, I want them all pushed forward
together. Jael and I will give orders from the observation hut. We
will use the catapults to clear the defenses, then we will bring up
the battering rams. When the gates fall, we will rush in to secure
the outer wall. This will provide us the needed protection to
attack the inner wall more freely.”

Returning from the front lines, Captain Gad
hastened up to the group. “General, we are within an hour or two of
completing enough tunnels and trenches to support the advance.”

“And the trenches are within striking
distance of the wall for our archers?” Rezon asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well done. We will attack
today, when the sister suns are high in the sky,” he said. “I want
to give the units assembling the war machines a little more time to
finish
all of them
.”

Rezon paused and then said, “Once the
forward trenches are complete, set our archers into position.
Prepare your men. I will join you at the forward observation hut
when it is rolled into place.”

The captains stood, saluted, and then left,
except for Gad. He stayed behind to assist Rezon with any
last-minute preparations for the attack. Numerous soldiers also
came and went, performing various tasks and errands as Rezon and
Gad discussed strategy over a hot drink.

About the time their cups were drained, a
rider approached the pavilion area, his horse visibly failing and
wheezing. A lather of sweat covered its mouth and chest, some of
the froth dripping to the ground. The horse’s muscle tremors and
wobbly legs caused the rider nearly to fall as he dismounted.
Another soldier led the exhausted animal away. Rezon stood to
receive the rider. As Zev approached, he frowned. “You rode that
horse too hard.”

Zev saluted but did not respond. His eyes
went to the pavilion.

Rezon understood. “Come with me.”

Upon entering the tent, the door flap was
lowered, and Zev stood alone before General Rezon. Over the next
few minutes, Zev described his journey with Ilan to Hasor, Saron,
and the Geber Pass. He told of the various groups of Danielite
soldiers they had to avoid, and then of their uneventful passage
through the mountains. As Zev told of the encounter with General
Jasher when they reached the high point, and of the companions who
traveled with Jasher, the general stiffened.

“Jasher was traveling with
Danielites and Uzzahites . . .
and
women
?”

“Yes, sir. They were definitely together.
Many of the Danielites and Uzzahites were wearing Gideonite
armor.”

“Where is Ilan?”

“I fear he is dead, sir. As I escaped, Ilan
was captured by Jasher. Hoping he followed, I glanced back, but I
saw him roll over onto his weapon.”

Rezon wandered over to his table and
retrieved his goblet. He wanted to fill it, but instead just stood
there, tapping the side of the cup with his finger. His clenched
jaw made his teeth hurt. Distracted, he lifted the empty goblet to
his lips to drink, but no refreshing liquid came forth. The lines
in his forehead deepened.

“If Gideon is traveling
with The Brothers, it can only mean one thing,” Rezon said as he
slammed the empty goblet to the table. “Jasher of Bezek has already
killed the emperor. He has somehow convinced those who should be in
subjection to me
,
to support him as the new leader. I cannot fathom how he did
it, but I see no other explanation.”

Zev nodded.

“Tell me again when this happened. How did
you return so fast?”

Zev explained that he had ridden hard all
day after meeting Jasher in the pass. To reach Ramathaim more
quickly, he went through the hills in order to bypass Saron, and
continued most of the night with just a few rests for his horse.
During the last hour of the ride, he pushed the horse to its
limit.

“My guess is that Jasher’s army left Saron
just this morning,” Zev added.

“You have done well, my wolf. I would like
to reward you for the speed at which you returned with this
information.”

Rezon turned to his desk and removed a
parchment sheet from the writer’s box there. With a raven’s quill,
he wrote a hasty note, held a green wax stick to a candle flame,
and melted a drop onto the bottom of the parchment. From his pocket
he pulled a small medallion on a chain, which he pressed into the
soft wax, then returned to his pocket.

Zev approached the desk and removed his
belt. He slipped Rezon’s dagger from it, placing the sheathed
weapon on the table.

“I’m sorry you have returned it unused,”
Rezon said dryly. “But don’t worry—I will find another use for
it.”

Rezon rolled the written message and tied it
with a leather strap from his box.

“Take this to Jael of Maharai.”

“Yes, sir. I will.”

“Good. These are orders to make you a
captain of fifty. Jael has been instructed to reassign you.”