A Light on the Hill

by Connilyn Cossette

  What if instead of a cold-eyed Raviv, Pekah had introduced Darek as the brother who desired a match? I envisioned the way his smile would have curved upward as he stepped forward, hand outstretched, my name on his lips. The way Ora would have begged for details about him. And how long the days would have seemed until he came to claim me for his bride. Darek was like my father in so many ways; they would undoubtedly enjoy each other’s company. I lost myself in pointless visions, hoping to stave off the feeling of dread that had trailed me since Yahweh’s warning had collided with the illusion we’d been absorbed in together back at the hot springs.

  Although we saw a few farmers tending their fields in the distance or leading harvest-weary animals back home, no one crossed our path. Another mercy from Yahweh, for I surely would not have passed for a boy now, with my long hair flowing free and wearing a dark blue dress that barely covered my body. Why had I left that woolen mantle in Zendaye’s tent when I’d gone to retrieve Yuval this morning? When I returned to Shiloh I must replace the one Baz’s wife had loaned me—

  The gut-wrenching reminder hit me all over again—even if I survived this journey I would only be returning to Shiloh to be placed on trial. I would never live there with my father again.

  Darek must have noticed the stumble in my step and insisted we stop to catch our breath. We took shelter within a thick stand of tamarisk trees and through their tangled branches surveyed the last stretch of enemy territory we must cross.

  A short distance to the north, Beit She’an stood guard over the valley, high on a mound, its ramparts shining golden in the waning sunlight and banners fluttering atop imposing migdol towers, emblazoned with the symbols of the Egyptian soldiers garrisoned within.

  Threading through the long valley that stretched north to south, the same river that the Hebrews had crossed over while I had been imprisoned in Jericho now lay between us and safety. Few trees afforded us cover in this middle ground between us and the rushing water. The moment we darted out into the open to cross the road and make our way to the Jordan, we would be exposed.

  “We have no choice,” Darek said, discerning my thoughts. “We must cross here and then run with all our might toward that river.”

  A shiver traveled up my arms. All afternoon, Darek had been telling me that we’d have to cross the Jordan, and I’d pressed my panic into a little box, hiding it in some far corner of my heart. But the sight of those dark waters, the same that had nearly swallowed Alanah and me seven years ago, tore open the lid on that box to taunt me with its contents.

  Frigid rushing waters . . . a black night . . . wet ropes shredding the skin around my wrists into a bloody mess . . . the heaviness of my wool tunic dragging me down down down as Alanah desperately tried to keep us both above water . . . the roar of a giant desperately searching for us. My skin went clammy and trembling overtook me, my breath coming in short spurts.

  “Moriyah?” Darek turned to me, sliding his hands down my arms to grasp my hands. “Are you well?”

  “The river . . . last time—” The words choked to a whisper. “I can’t. Not in the dark . . . again.”

  The afternoon sunlight gilded his hair, highlighting the red again. His expression overflowed with compassion as he placed his palms on my cheeks. “I will be right there with you. I will not let you drown. Do you believe me?”

  “What if the water is stronger here than it was there? Or what if the current breaks us apart? Alanah promised the same thing but the river had other plans. We were nearly dashed against the rocks . . . and it was so cold. . . .” I tightened my arms across my body, feeling the icy fingers of the river grasping at me, even from so far away. “Is there no other way? Can we not just go north? Follow the river on this side? Or slip through those hills?” I tipped my head north toward the hills the hedged that valley. “I can climb, I know I can . . . just don’t make me cross that river again.”

  Darek interrupted my rambling with a brush of his lips on mine. “You told me that you knew that we were in danger earlier, and you were right. If we’d waited any longer I am sure those men would have stumbled across us.” He slid his thumb across my cheekbone. “How did you know? Did you hear something?”

  “I . . .” What would he say if I told him? Our people may have venerated Mosheh and even his sister Miryam as prophets of Yahweh, but why would anyone believe that Adonai would deign to speak to a simple girl? Especially one marked by Ba’al and Ashtoreth?

  And yet, Darek had surprised me, time and again, with his unexpected kindness, his protectiveness, and the way he seemed to see who I was, even when I did not. “There was a sense that we were in danger, deep within me. Perhaps it was only my imagination—”

  “No, it was not.”

  Startled I pulled back from him. “What do you mean?”

  “I have been in the presence of Yehoshua, before he sent us out to survey the land. When I met him I was surprised. I’d imagined him to be a holy sort of figure, like I imagined Mosheh to be. He looked little different from the other warriors—albeit more grizzled and long-weathered by sun and battle—and yet, there was something about him that commanded my attention.”

  Darek looked away, through the thick trees and toward that looming river in the east.

  “It was as if he could see directly into my core and knew all my failings. As if Yahweh himself were whispering them into his ear. I’d never been so off-balance in the presence of another person before—that is . . .” He turned back with a sheepish grin. “Until I met you and found your otherworldly gaze latched on me during a festival.”

  He’d been nervous around me? He’d seemed so relaxed and congenial that night. But perhaps, like I’d seen with the Canaanite bandits, he’d learned to conceal unease with brash confidence.

  “Although my reaction to you was certainly not the same as toward Yehoshua.” He tipped the corner of his mouth up with a lift of his brows, then leaned down and whispered into my ear, “For believe me, there can be no comparison between meeting a wizened old warrior to the way I inexplicably wanted to pull a veiled stranger into my arms in the middle of a moonlit vineyard, yearning to know everything about her. . . .”

  His warm breath on my skin and the image his admission conjured threw my thoughts into disarray.

  “So you ask if I believe that you knew, that somehow Yahweh spoke direction to your soul today, then the answer is yes. It may be that Yahweh has bestowed you with a gift of prophecy.”

  “I am no prophetess, Darek.” Was he equating me with someone like Miryam? Or Yosef, whose dreams spoke the future years in advance? “I am nothing of the sort. I am a branded manslayer who pushed aside the Voice for seven years out of fear and pride. He has no cause to use me after such faithlessness.”

  “I do not know the mind of the Eternal One, Moriyah. But neither do you. He has preserved your life this far, in the most unlikely of situations. Perhaps he has a unique purpose for you, in spite of what you endured. Or perhaps because of it.” He took my face in his hands, his brown eyes intent on mine. “But I do know this, if he commands you to speak truth, you must do so. No matter the cost.” He stared at me, his expression weighty. “I believe you, Moriyah. And I trust you.” He kissed me, then caressed my face with a gentle palm. “And now I need you to trust me. All right?”

  I nodded, and then before affording me time to gather my wits back inside my head, Darek grabbed my hand and we were running. The crunch of hard-packed earth as we passed over the trade road slipped by so fast I barely registered the crossing. As we reached the last stretch of open land before the river, hoofbeats echoed behind us. The men who’d been searching us out had passed by Beit She’an and made their way south toward us. They must have seen us dart out of our hiding place to cross the road and head for the bottom of the valley.

  “Go!” yelled Darek. “Run!”

  The men behind us were yelling, shouting for us to stop and pay for what we’d done to their king. Dusk lay heavy throughout the valley, leaving only the mur
ky outline of the tree-lined river ahead. The brush thickened as we neared the water and I hoped it would prevent the soldiers from thundering through on their mounts. Pressing through the towering bushes and waist-high weeds, startling a flock of blackbirds who gave away our position by exploding into the air, we somehow made it to the marshy edge of the river.

  With no freedom to revisit my panic from earlier, we both plunged in. Although I’d braced myself for freezing water, it did not chill my bones the way it had seven years ago. But the section we’d chosen to cross was much deeper than before, and I flailed.

  “Swim, Moriyah,” Darek said. “Go!”

  “I don’t know how!”

  He grabbed my hand. “Kick as hard as you can!”

  The current caught our bodies, pushing us south toward the Salt Sea, but I kicked with all my might. A thin fog had settled over the water, partially obstructing our view of the opposite side. I gripped Darek’s hand as he swam forward with one powerful arm, thankful that my wrists were not bound like last time. I mimicked him, scooping water with my palm. Just as I finally developed a rhythm to the movement, my feet touched the riverbed. Had we reached the other side? Already?

  Dripping, we pulled ourselves out of the water and scuttled into the brush, crouching low as we made our way up the bank and onto a low ridge. On the opposite side of the river, the sounds of men calling out to each other reached us.

  Darek lifted a brow. “You ready to run again?”

  “No, but let’s go.”

  Even in the dim light, his dimple appeared again. “You never cease to amaze me.” I’ll miss that little divot when his beard fills in.

  “Will they follow us?”

  “I don’t think we should stay around to find out. We are in Hebrew land on this side of the river, but if the king has died or is close to it, they will be determined to avenge him.”

  A thought struck me like a cedar falling. “Yuval. What if . . .”

  “There is nothing we can do, Moriyah. He is in Yahweh’s hands. Shuah and the others will do their best to protect him. We can only hope they left the city as soon as we were taken and are far north now.”

  The memory of the way Yahweh had protected Yuval within that evil temple chamber soothed my frayed nerves. Surely he would continue to do so?

  Lifting my head a bit, I tried to scan the opposite river bank for the soldiers, but the fog that had been steadily gathering across the water had thickened, lifting higher into the air. An impenetrable wall now obstructed my view. The moon, rising at our backs over the eastern mountain ridge, cast an eerie glow on the inexplicable fog that now barricaded the opposite shore, blocking the soldiers’ view of our hiding place. Only their voices penetrated the screen of mist, wild shouts exclaiming with terror-stricken confusion, as if they were under some sort of attack.

  “What is happening?” I whispered.

  Darek’s gaping mouth must mirror my own as he shook his head, wordless.

  The memory of a story, told by my grandfather by a campfire out in the wilderness years ago, rose in my mind. The Cloud had blocked Pharaoh’s army from entering the wide beach on the shore of the Red Sea, keeping the multitude safe until Yahweh split that sea in two with his breath. But why? Why, Yahweh, would you send such a thing for me?

  “Come,” Darek said, not taking his eyes off the strange and wonderful sight. “Let’s take advantage of whatever has happened here. Get as far away as we can.”

  We made our way across the ridge and found a road similar to the one we’d crossed on the other side of the river. Darek kindly held to a fast walk instead of a jog like before, and I kept pace beside him, dreaming of the soft sleeping couch at Rahab’s inn, my bed at home, and even the lambswool pallet I’d slept on in the wilderness as a girl.

  My eyes fluttered shut, time and time again, this longest of days catching up with me. I bit my cheek, pulled in draft after draft of fresh air to keep myself awake, and tried to concentrate on the feel of Darek’s strong hand encircling mine. But still, my eyelids continued to droop.

  With a jerk I came awake, realizing I was on the ground with Darek’s arms around my body.

  “You fell asleep on your feet.” His soft voice held a note of humor. “I’ve seen soldiers do such a thing, but never a woman.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “You are sorry?” He kissed my forehead. “In my determination to get you to safety I pushed you too hard. Let’s find a place to pass the rest of the night.” I struggled to stand but Darek was faster, scooping me into his arms and standing with breathtaking ease for a man who must be just as exhausted as I was. “You are not taking another step tonight.”

  Too tired to protest, I slid my arm around his neck and relaxed against his chest, trusting him fully to keep me safe. Yet in the back of my mind, as I let myself float away, a thought unfurled.

  I may be safe for the moment, but Raviv waited in Kedesh.

  CHAPTER

  Thirty-One

  The chirrup of a lark and an invasive ray of sunlight woke me. Disoriented by the low green canopy above me and the strange, nearly upright position I was laying in, I tipped my head back and blinked my eyes. Arms were loosely wrapped around me, and my head was slumped against a hard chest. Darek must have slid down next to a tree, still holding me, and fallen asleep himself. His body warmth kept the chill of the morning at bay.

  With the shalom of deep sleep transforming his features into a new arrangement, he took long, even breaths. His weary body needed to soak up as much rest as possible so I held very still and allowed myself to study him up close for a long while, tracing every bit of his face with my eyes.

  Giving in to the urge to touch him, I feathered a finger down the line of his stubbled jaw, across his high cheekbone, over a faint scar that arced over his temple, then down his nose, exploring the slight curve that proved it had once been broken. Then, with my blood simmering as I considered the sensation of his mouth on mine, I brushed my fingertip across his lips and was rewarded with a smoky flicker of his brown eyes and a sleepy upturn of that delicious mouth before his lids drifted shut again.

  “You must be uncomfortable,” I whispered, sliding my palm down his neck before pulling away. Darek’s hand shot up to clamp mine against his chest.

  “I’ll keep that, thank you.” His lips quirked again.

  “Your legs must be numb.”

  He hummed. “I don’t care. I’ve never been more comfortable in my life.” A roguish grin lit his face as he gripped me tighter. His eyes peeled open, one at a time, echoing the mischief in his smile, and that blue line encircling the brown of his eyes caught my attention again. “Numb legs are a small price to pay to have you this close.”

  A giggle built in my chest. “Are you intimating that I’ve been sampling too much of my own cooking?”

  “Not at all.” Wicked tease sparked in his eyes as he slid a hand down my side, over my waist, and then pressed his fingers into my hip. “These curves are perfectly shaped, in my opinion.”

  With a gasp, I slapped his hand away but could not keep the smile from my face nor a flush from heating my cheeks. Darek’s stomach grumbled, and I pulled away from him with a laugh, as my own loudly echoed the sentiment. “Speaking of food,” I said. “You haven’t eaten a thing since yesterday morning in the trader’s camp.”

  He made a noise in the back of his throat, his eyes narrowing in jest. “No. This slave did not have the benefit of sharing a king’s table.”

  I placed a hand on his cheek. “Believe me, with my gut roiling, Oni licking my toes, and that king’s greedy eyes on me, it was not nearly as enjoyable as it seemed.”

  “Still, I’ve never wanted to snatch a hunk of bread from a woman’s hands before,” he said. “If I’d been forced to stand there for one more minute watching the two of you gorge yourselves . . .” He let out a little growl. “And the lion too . . .”

  Laughter bubbled up in my chest. “That would have been the last bread you’d have ever tasted
. I don’t think the king would have taken kindly to you lunging for his food, especially since he suspected we were spies.”

  “True. But at least I would have died with a sweet taste in my mouth.”

  “I would not have let you have it anyhow,” I said. “Terrified or not, that was the most delicious bread I’ve ever had, and I devoured it. You’d have only found a bit of honey and a few crumbs on my lips.”

  His gaze went to my mouth, his voice dipping low. “Then it would have been the sweetest crumbs I’d ever had the pleasure of tasting before I died.” He pulled me into a kiss that made every thought in my head vanish like manna beneath the morning sun.

  How did someone I’d met not even ten days before seem so wholly familiar to me? As if I’d spent every day of my life listening to his rich voice and basking in warmth of his presence? And how would I possibly walk away from him, when the time came?

  Tears came to my eyes, and I pulled back from him, grasping for breath and composure, the denial in which I’d cloaked myself dissipating like mist. “What are we doing? Darek, we cannot—this is foolish. Your brother . . .”

  He leaned forward, his forehead touching mine and his gaze downcast. He let out a sigh that could have dredged the river bottom. “Why did he have to be the one . . . ?” He looked up, expression tortured. “If only he had stayed away a few more days.”

  “We cannot change what has been done.”

  “Run with me.” His eyes begged me. “We will go far away. We are in the territory of Gad now. We can run northeast, live among the tribe of Manassah. The land there is beyond lush, green valleys full of orchards and fertile soil. We will find shelter there, live our days in peace, in freedom. Raise our children in freedom.”

  The beauty of the life he described filled my mind with hope. Our children. Freedom.

  It was what my father had desired for me from the beginning: a man who would protect me, a man who saw past my mark and wanted me for who I was. A man who somehow, even on the run for my life, I’d come to love. We could send word to my father, let him know that we were safely tucked away. No one else need know what happened to us. There could be no harm in escaping Raviv’s vengeful intent, and I would still live with the guilt of those boys’ deaths in my soul. Was that not punishment enough? Surely Yahweh would have mercy.