Wings of the Wind

by Connilyn Cossette

  A small lump in the middle of the trail caught my eye. I knew what it was before I reached it. Moriyah’s whistle. Her most treasured possession, a trinket whittled by Shimon when she was an infant. I bent to retrieve it, glad that it was in one piece. She must have dropped it off the back of the wagon she’d been loaded into. She would never willingly part with it, without a purpose. Smart girl, she had left me a signal.

  North. I must follow the northern tracks.

  Tzipi had pointed out the path Alanah had taken toward Moab. And although I had my suspicions about my sister’s culpability in her departure, there was nothing I could do. If Alanah had truly left shortly after I had this morning, she was hours away. I had witnessed the swiftness of her strong legs during our hunts.

  As I looked southward, the image of her face crowded my decision, calling with an urgency that shook my bones. Why did she not have the decency to tell me? Or explain why she had changed her mind? The thought of her fleeing, after four months of marriage, four months of oneness, made me ill. Her bow was gone or I would not have believed such a thing. How long had she been planning her escape? Had she been biding her time until she was close enough to her homeland that she could find her way?

  Turning my back, I headed north toward a young girl who, without me, had little chance at survival—and away from the Canaanite woman who wanted nothing to do with me.

  28

  Alanah

  7 TISHRI

  1407 BC

  I bit my lip, squelching the urge to cry out as the back of my head slammed against the side of the wagon. Was our captor working to hit every rut and bump in the road? Three weeks of rumbling along in this wagon bed, bound and without benefit of even a blanket to lie on, had rendered me bruised and hopeless. And for every day of those three weeks a litany of accusations continued to cycle through my mind: I should have fought back, I shouldn’t have run away, I should have stayed and accepted my fate. It was my fault that Moriyah was on her way to be sold as a slave, and who knew what else.

  “We’ll get more for them if we don’t touch them,” Shamir, the Midianite, said. “They pay more for the untouched ones.”

  “How do you know they are maidens?” said Uli, the woman I assumed was the trader’s wife, or something of the like.

  “It doesn’t matter. I won’t chance it again. Those last couple we brought, I barely got an ear of corn for.” His gruff laugh ended in a hacking cough. Shamir seemed to have some sort of illness. He always drove the wagon, and whenever he climbed down to set up camp, his wheeze lingered for hours. It was no wonder he employed the giant to guard his wagonload of goods.

  I’d wondered why they hadn’t abused us, other than the odd kick or shove if we were too slow getting back into the wagon over the last three weeks. And I had also wondered why they had not attempted to sell us in the last four towns we had traveled through. Their trading supplies were exhausted and gold jingled in the purse around the Midianite’s neck, but it seemed he had his eye on a larger prize. Selling us to someone who paid top price for untouched girls—of which I certainly was not. My belly had already begun to swell beneath my tunic.

  But why would it matter that we are untouched maidens? Horror swiftly filled the space where the question had been. A temple. There must be a temple where young girls were either used or sacrificed, but only if they were virgins. No! Anything but that. Not Moriyah.

  The girl was curled against me, one arm slung across my chest. Kothar, the giant, snored like a wounded lion next to us, and I had barely been able to discern Shamir and Uli’s conversation over the racket.

  Keeping my eyes closed, my jaw slack, and my expression unmoving, as if I too were asleep, I weighed my options. I would never let them destroy Moriyah. I had been watching for any chance to escape these last weeks, but Kothar’s eyes were on us every moment of every day. Tonight, however, with his mouth open, back turned, and long legs hanging off the bed of the wagon, he slept.

  My hands were tied together, but not as tightly as they had been. I had not struggled one bit since we’d been tossed in the back of this wagon. Hadn’t muttered a complaint, hadn’t even looked at the scenery passing by. And gradually Kothar had begun to relax, to sleep more deeply.

  The moon was bright, and Shamir was taking advantage of this clear night to push farther north. The rush of water to the west had been constant for the past few hours. We were finally following the river north, but from what I gathered from the conversation between Shamir and Uli, we soon would be veering away, toward Damascus.

  We would only have one chance.

  Still peering through the tiny slit of mostly closed eyelids, I nudged Moriyah with my elbow. She hummed, although her eyes stayed closed. Such a smart girl. With the smallest of motions, I moved my mouth closer to her ear and then whispered slowly, “It’s time to jump.”

  She hummed in acknowledgment.

  “Go!” I hissed.

  In a flurry we were on our feet and over the side of the wagon, both of us slamming onto the rocky ground without the use of our hands for balance. Shamir bellowed at Kothar to wake up and then screamed at the horses to stop, coughing with vehemence.

  We ran, plunging into the thick vegetation and toward the sound of water. At our backs, Kothar bawled curses. Without hesitation we jumped into the black river, skidding on the slimy riverbed. Shocked by the contrast of the frigid water against the warm air, I shivered violently. “Let the river take us,” I said, gripping Moriyah’s trembling fingers with my own and wishing I had time to soothe her fears. “Stay under as long as you can. Now!”

  We dove into the rushing water that could whisk us farther away than our legs could. Hopefully the thick reeds and grasses along the banks would keep Kothar from moving ahead of us. Over the past weeks I had observed that it was Shamir who did the thinking for the enormous but dim-witted man; perhaps Kothar would assume we went across the river and not under it. Swallowed up by the icy black water, I could do nothing but pray that somehow he would not see us in the dark.

  My sodden wool tunic tugged at me, pulling me downward. Moriyah’s frozen fingers kept slipping but I gripped tighter and kicked harder, desperately wishing my hands were free to pull myself deeper. I fought the ropes that bound my hands but they might as well have been made of iron, they would not loosen. Any slack I’d had in the wagon was erased by the swelling of the fibers.

  When at last my chest felt as though it would explode without another breath, I lifted my head above the surface and looked around. There was no way to tell how far we had gone, but the water in the center of the river was rushing even faster than near the edges, the black outlines of trees and brush washing by with gaining speed. Moriyah gasped. She too had come up for air.

  The giant yelled, much closer than I had hoped, and the sound of his large body crashing through the river vegetation made my heart pound even harder than before.

  “Dive!” I whispered before gulping another breath of precious air and dragging Moriyah downward into the blackness. It was deeper now and I could not find purchase on the bottom, but I kicked as hard as my frozen legs would move.

  When again I could hold my breath no longer, I kicked toward the surface. As soon as my head popped above the water, a huge boulder appeared in front of us. Without time to react, Moriyah and I slammed hard against it, our hands slipping apart and the rush of water yanking us in different directions; she was pulled to one side of the boulder and I to the other. The river swirled me around, knocking me against another rock and pulling me into a whirling vortex of crashing water. My elbow hit a hard surface and I choked as water filled my mouth. Spitting and huffing, I tried to stand, but even here the water was deep. Had Moriyah been dashed against the rocks? Had I killed that brave girl with my impetuous escape?

  Yahweh! Save Moriyah! Help me find her!

  A cough to my right answered my prayers. Given courage by the loudness of the rushing water, I called her name softly. She answered but then coughed again. Kicking to
ward her, I assured her I was coming but then slammed against another boulder. Frozen as we were by the icy water, I knew that tomorrow I would be covered in bruises, even if I could feel little pain at the moment. Horror struck me. Would my baby be hurt by all this buffeting and this frigid water?

  Shaking away the terror-inducing thought, I kicked again, calling to Moriyah. Peering into the darkness, I was grateful for its cover from Shamir and Kothar but angry that I could not see her. You said you had a plan! Perishing in this river cannot be it! Save us! Surround my child with your protection!

  Something grabbed at me and I gasped, seeing Kothar in my imagination, but it was Moriyah’s frozen hand gripping the sleeve of my tunic. What was left of my composure nearly fled with my breath as I released thanks to the God who had somehow heard me in the middle of this icy river.

  “Swim to the edge,” I said, my teeth chattering.

  Kicking my numb legs with the remainder of my strength, I did my best to push toward the vegetation on the west bank. When finally my feet met the ground, I nearly shouted with glee, but remembering how long Kothar’s legs were, I urged Moriyah forward with a whisper. The weeds tangled around my legs, threatening to drag me back into the black water, their menacing whispers calling out our position, but there was nothing we could do but push forward.

  The bank was steep and slick, and my wrists had been rubbed raw by the rope that still bound me. We slipped and stumbled our way to the edge and dragged ourselves to the shore using elbows and wrists. Panting, we lay on our backs, the water still swirling at our feet.

  “We have to keep moving. Put as much distance as possible between us and that giant.”

  She whimpered but nodded.

  “Ready?”

  Another whine. “I’m frightened.”

  “Look at me,” I ordered.

  Her eyes were pale with moonlit terror.

  “We are going to live. Both of us. You are going to see your family again. Do you hear me?” I said the words with as much conviction as I could with my teeth chattering and my body convulsing with shivers. “We must survive.”

  She nodded her head.

  Rolling over, I propped myself up and somehow dragged my knees under my body to stand.

  “Which way?” Moriyah asked.

  “They’ll expect us to stay close to the river. We go west.”

  As much as I felt like we needed to run, my feet would not comply. My waterlogged leather sandals grated at my skin, sliding and squeaking loud enough to alert anything out on the hunt in the middle of the night. I feared, too, that if we stopped, we might succumb to the cold. The only way to get warm was to move our bodies.

  Straining my ears, I heard nothing more than the hush of night sounds, a few restless birds and insects. Had we truly lost Kothar back on the other side of the river? I could not chance it.

  We walked until Moriyah’s knees buckled and she toppled forward. The smallest wisp of light on the eastern horizon highlighted a hill in front of us, covered in thick trees.

  “Moriyah,” I said, pulling her back up. “We need to get around that hill and start a fire.” Not giving her a chance to argue, I pressed forward. Our progress was slow, but by the time we reached the small hill, the sky had lightened enough to reveal limestone caves, like gaping wounds, in its side.

  “Gather kindling,” I said and began to search for tools to start a fire.

  By the time Moriyah had a handful of twigs and dry grasses, I’d found a piece of flint and a large stone. We climbed up the side of the hill, sliding on the limestone rubble as we made our way to one of the larger caves with hands still bound.

  “What if there is an animal in there?” she said.

  “Our chattering teeth will scare it away.”

  She grinned at my jest, a small measure of the terror replaced with a glimmer of hope in her light eyes.

  The cave stank but was empty. Although it was shallow, it afforded us a dry place to start a small fire—another skill learned from my father. Before the sun had fully risen, Moriyah and I were tucked together next to the fire, too exhausted to deal with our restraints. I hoped Kothar had given up the chase, or at least was blind to the wisps of smoke curling out of the cave. An easterly breeze swelled and dragged the smoky trail with it.

  Yahweh truly had protected us this night, or at least had honored my request to save Moriyah and my innocent babe. But I was grateful that he cared for them, for he certainly could not care much for a murderer like me.

  29

  Tobiah

  7 TISHRI

  1407 BC

  NEAR EDREI, BASHAN

  A surge of energy from the center of my bones answered the call of the thundering war drums. Shofarim screamed their response and the men around me pounded a pulsing rhythm with spears on shields. Everyone reeked of sweat, dust, and righteous anger. After the victory over King Sihon’s forces, Yehoshua had issued an order to travel north and take the kingdom of Bashan from King Og, a man whose legendary height caused the tiny thread of foreboding that niggled at the base of my spine.

  Now that Alanah was gone, I had thrown off the armor of the first year of marriage and donned the battle gear of a man who needed to forget the faithless wife who had fled.

  This was where I belonged, alongside my tribal brothers, sword in my belt and spear in hand, my body ready to push forward into whatever lay ahead, with no thought of anyone or anything except my goal—especially her.

  After three futile days of searching for Moriyah, Noach, Simcha, and I had conceded defeat. None of the traders we questioned had admitted to seeing any young girls in a wagon and, truly, whoever had taken her could be anywhere by now.

  First I’d failed Shimon, and now I’d failed his young sister. What good was a warrior who could not protect the people he loved? That poor girl, so innocent, so full of life . . . The thought of what she might be enduring nauseated me, and I could not let my mind linger on such hideous imaginings. As morbid as it was to think, I prayed that instead she was in the arms of her brother, wherever that may be. It was the only thing that kept me from shattering to pieces.

  And Alanah, the woman to whom I’d offered my protection and my love, had chosen to return to Canaan over marriage to me. How could she do such a thing after those months together? Especially when she had told me of how the only option left to her there was so repugnant.

  Yet even though anger at her incomprehensible decision had cycled through me again and again, my gaze was constantly drawn to the edge of camp, hoping to see her burst through the tree line, returning to me with that rough-edged smile on her beautiful lips.

  Don’t think! Forget her face. Forget the feel of her in your arms.

  Instead, I focused on the tall mountain range to the north; the three giants were laden with caps of snow and sweeping skirts of green that sloped toward us. In the distance, Edrei perched atop a high hill, the enormous city surrounded with walls of astounding height.

  We had marched for days, through the richest, lushest countryside I’d ever beheld. Abundant crops stood at attention. A vast array of fruits—most of which I had no names for—shone from the trees like tiny points of sunlight. We’d scavenged in the orchards as we’d passed through, and I’d been surprised at the variety of tastes on a tongue accustomed to a steady diet of manna—from crisp, sweet globes, to tangy citrus fruits, to small red ones whose juice stained our teeth bloody.

  The land was rugged, lined with hills and valleys. The sounds of rushing streams and rivers had become a common occurence, a contrast from the days without water as we trekked barren deserts.

  I could see myself living here, breathing the clean air, taking in the sight of the majestic mountains, and hunting the plentiful deer and mountain goats that populated this land. The thought of hunting without Alanah soured the vision and I blinked it away, just as the quick double-blast of a shofar drew my attention from the mountains to the men standing on a ridge above us.

  I’d seen Yehoshua before, the
tall, dark-haired commander who answered to Mosheh alone. He’d been present for some of our training sessions, his silent perusal of our skills causing a rush of nerves in my belly. The man inspired me like no other. This faithful leader, along with Caleb, the revered warrior, had stood firm against the cowardice of the other ten spies forty years ago. He was the man my brothers should have been, had their ears not been bent by the likes of Korah and his band of rebels. But instead they had chosen their own destruction, like Alanah.

  “Brothers!” Yehoshua’s voice rang out across the valley and every man hushed to absorb the words that would usher us into battle. “Look to the city there, called Edrei. Do you see the towering walls? Do you see the impregnable bronze gates? Can you envision the vicious man-beasts there whose heads top yours by two cubits, or more? Can you count the swarms of their armies who fight in the name of a god whose depravity you cannot fathom?”

  He paused, scanning the crowd slowly, as if searching out cowardice among us. I schooled my features even as the bleak visions he’d conjured marched through my head. Would this be my last day? My last moments on this side of the river that separated this life from the next? Would one of those horrid beasts spear me through?

  “Sihon was nothing compared to Og,” called out Yehoshua. “A puppy. Og himself is twice your height. The spies we sent brought back toe-curling stories of daily human sacrifice in this place. Blood runs through the streets of that city like rivers during their profane festivals. But we do not serve a filthy, man-eating god of iron and stone.” He held up his sword, pointing toward the enormous peaks that edged the northern horizon. “We do not serve false gods who live on top of mountains. We serve the God who made the mountains. We serve the God who rescued us from Egypt with the very unraveling of the Creation he began. We serve the God who built the foundations of the earth with a mere word.”