“All right,” I said. “Just let Malakhi take Ana to safety. I will stay.”
Samil laughed, pressing the dagger farther into Ana’s skin. “She’s my property too. I’ll do with her as I please.” He slid his hand up her torso until his palm was curved over her breast. “Now that Dilara is getting tiresome, perhaps this one might make a sweet little concubine.” He whispered something into Ana’s ear that made her entire body flinch. “But if he doesn’t lay down his weapon, she dies. I can always find another to take Dilara’s place. Makes little difference to me.”
Estebaal moved so quickly that Samil was still mid-sneer as his body crumpled forward, the knife he’d been holding at Ana’s throat clattering to the ground. Hazy from shock, I sat back on my heels, staring at the pool of blood flowing from my master’s side as he twitched and gasped for breath on the floor. Samil’s eyes went to the bodyguard he’d so highly valued and trusted, a question for the boy he’d rescued from certain death twisting his brow.
“I will guard your family to the best of my ability,” Estebaal told the man to whom he’d vowed a lifetime of service. “I owe you that much. But you will never touch Ana again.”
CHAPTER
forty
Malakhi
Leaving Samil’s body on the floor of our room, Estebaal walked the three of us to the gates, then nodded to the guards, who let us pass without question. “Come with us,” Rivkah said to the Aramean. “Malakhi knows a way out of the city.”
“No,” he said. “I will keep my vow. His wives and children have no one else to protect them.” Regardless of the cold-blooded thrashing he’d given me, there was a deep vein of honor beneath the surface that I could not help but respect. And I owed him for protecting the life of my Rivkah, so I gave him the only thing I had to offer.
“There is a tunnel.” I crouched down and drew a map of the city with my finger in the dirt, hoping my feeble markings would make sense. “It opens here”—I pointed—“into the cistern right next to the stables. If you follow the charcoal markings my friend Baz made along the length”—and here I drew the symbol of a dog with a hooked tail—“you will find yourself outside the walls and near the river.”
Estebaal nodded his thanks, then gestured toward the women. “Get them out of here. The gates will soon be breached.”
I curled my fingers around Rivkah’s wrist, tugging her forward, eager to get her to my father and brother and then on to safety. But Ana hung back, her focus on the menacing bodyguard who’d killed his master for her sake. She went to him, blood still trickling down her neck from where Samil had held the dagger, and reached for his shoulders. She was so small before him, almost childlike next to his massive form, but she tugged him down and placed a kiss on his lips. Then she whispered in his ear before darting toward us, tears trailing down her cheeks. Rivkah reached for her hand and we walked away, leaving the Aramean to fulfill his last vow to the master who did not deserve such faithfulness.
Once we rounded the corner, the rest of our group joined us, weapons in hand. “Get them into the tunnels,” my father said to me. “We’ll find Nessa.”`
“I know where she is,” said Rivkah, attempting to tug out of my grip. “I’ll show you.”
“You will not.” My fingers clamped tighter on her wrist. “You are going in that tunnel. Now.”
“How will they find her without my help?” she said, her tone high and beseeching. “That marketplace is a sea of confusion. We have to rescue her. Her babies . . . We cannot leave them. . . .”
Her despair wrenched at my resolve to personally escort her to safety. But there was no one I trusted more than Baz to take my place. “Tell me where she is, then. I know the city well.”
“No.” Tears brimming, she gripped my tunic. “Malakhi, you can’t leave me.”
I bent to look her in the eye, my palms curved around her cheeks. “I told you we won’t be parted, and I vow that it will be so. I was trained for this. We will find her, and then we will meet you in the tunnels.” I poured assurance into the words, confirming them with a sincere promise in my eyes. Then I curled my lips into my most enticing smile. “You won’t be rid of me so easily, my sweet mischief-maker. You still owe me an edible meal.”
She huffed a small, tearful laugh, and then nodded. “She is hidden on the roof of a house tucked behind the shop that sells musical instruments. Do you know it?”
“I do.”
Ignoring our audience, I pulled her close, memorizing the scent of her hair and the feel of her body against mine, wishing I could linger there for an eternity. Instead, I kissed her forehead and pushed her toward Baz and Chaim. “Go. They’ll keep you safe.”
She complied, but hesitated when she noticed Raviv standing off to the side. Rivkah’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Nessa’s father,” I said.
Understanding dawned in her amber eyes, and in spite of the swelling sounds of battle now being waged at the city gates, a smile curved her rose-colored lips. “I told her you’d not stopped caring,” she told my uncle. “And that somehow Yahweh would show her the way home.”
Raviv went still, looking as if he were struggling to take a breath, but his chin dipped in a gesture of silent gratitude.
Rivkah and Ana followed Baz, with Chaim walking behind them, and fully assured the two of them would protect my love with their lives, I turned to lead the men of my family into battle.
Gut-wrenching sounds of agony emanated from the marketplace. Every drop of blood in my body cried out to do something, to take a stand against the soldiers plowing through the square, destroying every soul in their path. Under the command of their wicked king, they were deaf to the pleas for mercy from the women and blind to the innocence of the children they slaughtered.
Baz had informed the elders about the tunnels below the city when he first brought news of the invasion, but from the screams rending the air, few had taken shelter below. I hoped the cowards who’d allowed Edrei to slide into such compromise and then thought they could bargain with evil were among the first to be put to the sword. They’d offered up the people of this city on the altar of their arrogance.
Before, when I’d been involved in skirmishes, I’d fought for the glory of battle and to keep Naftali’s territory intact. But regardless that Edrei was of the tribe of Manasseh, these were my people—brothers and sisters by blood and covenant. This land was ours, given to us by Yahweh himself and won beneath his holy banner. Baz had been right to call me out. Slinking away to lick my wounds had been nothing less than cowardice. It had taken Rivkah’s balm to heal my arm, but it was righteous anger that gave me fresh purpose and burned away any latent worries over the limitation of my sight. I vowed that these snarling dogs would not snatch away the promise of Avraham so easily. If the generation before me would not do its duty, then I would inspire my own to take up the cause.
Yet as horrified and enraged as I was by the carnage before me, Nessa and her children took precedence. They were my own kin, and I’d made a promise to Rivkah that I was determined to keep.
My father allowed me the lead as we slipped through a back alley toward the instrument shop, Raviv and Eitan trailing behind. At the sound of sandals approaching around a corner, I raised a fist, a silent order to halt, and we pressed ourselves against the mud-brick walls.
A foolish young Aramean whipped around the side of the building, his eyes going wide at the sight of the four of us. Before his mouth could open to call for aid, my dagger had lodged in his throat. Pushing the body aside, I pressed on, battle-rush flowing through my limbs, searching for the stairway Rivkah had described.
A sudden clash of swords and loud grunts behind us caused me to swing around, a weapon in each fist. Two more Arameans had snuck up behind us in the narrow alleyway, Raviv and Eitan engaging them. One enemy swept Raviv’s leg from underneath him, raising his sickle sword to slash my uncle’s torso, but Eitan, having knocked his own opponent senseless with an axe, plunged his dagger beneath the attacke
r’s arm, driving the bronze blade deep where his scaled armor did not hinder the blow. Then, before the soldier could recover, Eitan brought the axe down and ensured that he would not rise again.
Blood-spattered and wide-eyed, Raviv sprang to his feet, his chest heaving. A brief but weighted moment passed between my brother and uncle as Eitan’s actions stretched an olive branch across a twenty-five-year-wide gap. Without a word, Raviv nodded, accepting the gift.
Reeling from the implications but unable to pause, I moved on, pushing aside any thought but finding Nessa and knowing the rest of them would follow. The instrument shop was on fire, smoke billowing from the windows and flames consuming the brightly striped awning that once shaded its wares. I breathed a prayer of thanks for the smoke that concealed our climb up the back staircase. Although the battle raged out in the market, we reached the rooftop without being seen.
I’d never met Nessa, but there was a woman huddled here with her three children. She lifted eyes full of resignation at our approach. But when my uncle pushed by me, her expression transformed into profound confusion.
“Abba?” She clutched her baby closer to her chest.
He reached for her, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Are you hurt?” he asked, then grazed two fingers over the cheek of his tiny granddaughter with a look of awe.
Dazed, she shook her head. “How . . . why are you here?”
“There’s no time. We must get you out.” Raviv grabbed one of the boys, who looked to be twins, and held him out to me. The child did not struggle but clung to me, trembling and smelling of fear. A pang of longing for Amit struck my chest, along with gratitude that it was not him witnessing such brutalities today.
“Where’s your husband?” Raviv asked his daughter.
“He fled this morning,” she said without emotion. The coward had abandoned his family? I consoled myself with the thought that if he wasn’t dead already, he soon would be.
Once the other twin was in my father’s arms, Raviv aided Nessa to her feet. Eitan led the way down the staircase, my father and me coming next, and Nessa and Raviv directly behind.
Unfortunately, the fire in the instrument shop had already burned itself out, dissipating the cover we’d had before. Within only a few moments of our descent, a group of three Arameans came up behind us. With a loud cry, Raviv spun, slamming one of the soldiers against the wall with his sword. Helpless to do anything more, I yanked Nessa closer to me and shielded the infant between our bodies. After passing the child he held to Eitan, my father pushed past us to go to his brother’s aid. As Raviv tussled with the second man, the last and largest of them held firm, staving off my father’s every blow. Then, to my horror, the Aramean caught my father by the edge of his breastplate and threw him against the wall. Although over the ruckus I could not hear the sound of my father’s helmeted head slamming into stone, the reverberation traveled all the way through me. Dazed and bleeding, he dropped to his knees and slumped to the side.
The Aramean sneered, spitting blood on the ground and setting his sights on Nessa, as if a weeping woman clutching her innocent babe were some great battle trophy. I tried to push my cousin behind me, but her son grabbed for her neck, frantically calling for his ima and clinging with the strength born only of sheer terror. Tangled between the two with my back against the wall, I was helpless to move. Three paces away, the large Aramean stumbled to the side as Raviv pushed him from behind with a roar. But although he managed to disrupt the enemy’s charge toward his daughter and grandchildren, my uncle was unable to defend himself against the axe that crashed into his chest. He went down, his torso covered in blood.
At the same time, my father flew at the Aramean, as if the sight of his brother being felled had given him a burst of supernatural power, and was joined by Eitan, who’d dropped the second twin next to me to join the fight.
Tears streamed down Nessa’s face as she swayed into me, calling her father’s name. I gripped her close, glad that the boys were both hiding their faces from the ghastly sight of their grandfather gasping for breath on the ground.
When the last opponent was finally overcome, my father dropped to his knees beside Raviv and gripped his face in his hands. “Brother,” he said, “hold on. We’ll get you out.”
Raviv shook his head, his eyes wheeling toward his daughter. “Nessa,” he gasped, blood bubbling at the corners of his mouth. “Twins—promise—”
“Of course. We’ll get them to safety. Just breathe,” said my father, his face nearly as pale as Raviv’s and his voice full of sorrow. After all these years of separation, these few moments would be all they had together. He brushed his palm over his older brother’s face, as if to smooth away the pain, muttering assurances and pleading for him to live.
“My—family—”
“I vow that I will care for them as I do my own, brother.”
Raviv’s eyes fluttered closed as his body convulsed and he exhaled one last word. “Forgiven—”
A sob burst from my father’s throat. “Yes,” he said, dropping his forehead to Raviv’s. “All is forgiven between us.”
“Abba,” said Eitan, his tone somber but urgent. “We must go. More will come.”
As if in a daze and looking years older than he had an hour ago, my father gently laid Raviv’s lifeless body on the ground, then stood and picked up one of the twins, clutching him to his chest. I gripped Nessa’s hand, and regardless of her sobs and cries for her abba, dragged her behind me as we followed Eitan back through the maze of alleyways, heading for the tunnel and praying that Yahweh would blind the enemy to our flight.
CHAPTER
forty-one
Rivkah
Huddled inside the small cave where Malakhi had hidden himself away for the last two weeks, Ana and I clung to each other, listening to the war raging above our heads. We’d been down here far too long already. A few paces away, Baz and Chaim discussed whether to press on through the tunnels, fearing that the exit might be blocked by the time the men returned.
If they returned at all.
Although airshafts dotted the ceiling of the tunnels every so often, the smoke from above and the foulness from within ensured that the deeper we’d ventured into this stone fortress, the more effort it took to snatch a full breath. Thankfully, Baz had prepared for our retreat weeks ago by leaving a few oil lamps in ancient niches along the way, but nothing could dispel the dread whispering from the shadows.
The thought of Malakhi engaged in combat made my bones turn to water. Somehow over these past two months, I’d discovered that life without the man I’d once thrown away was unthinkable. Neither did I want to consider Amit’s life without his strong influence. He needed Malakhi as his abba. So there in the dimness, with my back against the cold limestone and a battle overhead, my heart finally bowed to Yahweh as I pleaded for the life of the man who’d come for me—twice. And in that same desperate moment, I saw a vision of my own abba kneeling on his rooftop so far away, even now pleading for my return.
Overflowing with grief for my transgressions against him and against the God who’d somehow protected me over and over again in spite of my rebellion, I leaned into Ana and wept. When I realized that she too was trembling and her tears had mingled with mine, I pushed aside my own concerns and drew in a shaky breath to console my sister in spirit.
“Did you know?” I asked. “About Estebaal?”
She nodded. “I saw him watching me, even though he never spoke a word. But he frightened me, so I did nothing to encourage him. Perhaps I should have. . . . Was I was too hasty in my judgment of him?”
“No,” I said, gently combing my fingers through her tangle of curls. “No, you did nothing wrong.” I should tell her the full story, but it was more than likely that Estebaal would not survive this day. Someday I would reveal it all, but not while death breathed down our necks.
Near the entrance of the cave, Toki jumped to attention, her hackles raised and a growl building in her throat as she stared up into the blac
k void of the tunnel.
“Someone’s approaching,” hissed Baz as he and Chaim took positions in front of us, daggers drawn. But if the Arameans had somehow discovered this tunnel, there was little chance we would survive, even with these two fierce warriors to protect us.
I was flushed with a strong wave of gratitude that my boy was far from here, safe in his grandmother’s arms. I owed Moriyah and Darek a profound apology just as much as I owed my own father one, but if I could never deliver those words in person, I prayed that Amit’s return would be the restitution for my sins.
Yet it was not a group of vicious Arameans who stepped into the feeble light of Baz’s oil lamp, but Darek himself carrying one of Nessa’s boys, desolation written across his brow with a heavy hand.
Everything in my world went still and silent. Not Malakhi.
Nessa emerged next from the gloom, her face pale and her baby tight against her breast. I untangled myself from Ana and ran to her, checking to see that the baby was unharmed before tugging her close. The infant was wide-eyed but quiet as I cradled the two of them in my arms.
“Are you wounded?” I asked.
She shook her head against my shoulder.
“Your husband?”
“Abandoned us,” she said without a hint of regret. A coward at the last, her man, but at least she was finally free of him.
“Yes, but Raviv did not.” From directly behind me, the beloved voice brushed the curve of my ear with warmth. “He gave his life for her. For all of us.”
My entire body shook as I spun to face Malakhi. Blood spattered his face and his tunic, but he looked to be whole. Although he held the other twin on his hip, I collapsed against him and sobbed my relief into his chest. He swept his hand down the length of my hair and then pressed me closer, a heavy sigh coming from deep within him. Eitan stepped into the light as well, and for Sofea’s sake, as well as for their children, I whispered another prayer of gratitude.
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