Adah nodded.
“I don’t know what to say.”
She nodded again.
“I must think on this.”
“Wise,” she said.
“I’m scared.”
“You should be.”
“Does a Seraph always win?”
“No.”
“But a Seraph is Elohim’s agent.”
“In this life, victory does not always go to the righteous. It rains on the wicked and on the good. In fact, evil is strong, for many hands work against Elohim. The rebellion begun in the Celestial Realm is now carried out on Earth.”
Joash was unconvinced he was qualified to be a Seraph. How could he hunt First Born and Nephilim? Who was he to take up such a task?
“How do you know if I’m even qualified?” he asked.
“At the cave,” Adah asked, “who was not bewitched by the emeralds?”
“I must think carefully,” Joash said. This was all so sudden. He wondered, for just a moment, if Adah was dumping all this on him so she could avoid talking about the two of them.
“Very well,” Adah said. “But remember, sometimes no answer is an answer.”
“What does that mean?”
She smiled, squeezed his arm, and then signaled Lord Uriah that she wished to ride again. Soon Adah stepped beside Lord Uriah and left Joash to his thoughts.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Beach
Goliath… stepped out from his lines and shouted his usual defiance… When the Israelites saw the man, they all ran from him in great fear.
Lord Uriah called a halt beside a muddy spring. It was hot, and the horses were tired.
After waiting his turn, Joash used his silk cloth to filter out the worst of the mud. He lugged the water to Herrek’s new horse-team. For most of the day he’d kept a sharp lookout for sabertooths, or for a flash of reflected sunlight that meant an armored giant or First Born. He’d seen gorgeous orange poppies, and a field of dandelions where plump rabbits nibbled. With his sling he’d bagged two. After hobbling the horses in a pasture of lush grass, he skinned the rabbits and put the meat on skewers. Amery brought coals from Lord Uriah’s fire, while Beker tossed dry bison-chips that he’d collected during the march. Three pots of tea began to boil and the rabbits sizzled. Joash cut up day-old meat for Othniel’s hounds. The big brutes gobbled the meat and then went back to the spring for more water.
The chores helped calm Joash’s thoughts. Seraphs, giants, and First Born who controlled sabertooths, it was all very daunting. He wanted to forget about trolocks, the lichs of bene elohim, and ancient weapons forged in an age of Earth-shattering wars. He was a groom, and someday, despite his leanness, he wanted to become a charioteer.
Joash rubbed his nose, wondering how Harn was doing, and then he wondered about Nestor. Would Nestor continue to be Herrek’s groom when his leg healed? Or would Nestor also step up in rank and become a warrior? Nestor’s bold drawing of his sword when the yellow-fanged sabertooth had attacked could be enough to propel him into warrior-hood.
“Here now,” Othniel said, “quit staring at the flames or you’ll burn the rabbits.”
Joash grinned sheepishly, giving the spits a turn. The rabbits smelled good. His mouth watered in anticipation.
“Wonder which beach we’ll use,” Karim said, sitting at the fire.
Joash cocked an ear, but was sidetracked when Amery nudged him.
“Bet you don’t get to eat any of your rabbits,” she whispered. She ran off to Lord Uriah’s fire, where Adah and the standard-bearer sat.
Joash frowned. He wondered if Adah was avoiding him, and he frowned because he knew that Amery was probably right. Too bad he hadn’t been able to bag one more rabbit. Actually, that he’d gotten one, let alone two, had made him feel good. His slinging had improved. Ever since the incident with the hyenas his confidence with the sling had soared. Confidence seemed more important than closing one eye and aiming, or trying to remember what the Massa slave had said about releasing one string at precisely the right moment. It wasn’t a confidence that he could manufacture, either. It had to be a gut-level feeling. After saving Harn and himself from the hyenas, he just knew he could hit what he aimed at. Now when he missed, it didn’t shatter his confidence like it used to. He just shrugged and tried again. Two rabbits had been the result.
“Are they ready yet?” shaggy-bearded Karim asked.
Joash eyed the meat. He turned one spit and listened to drops of fat sizzle from the other. “Soon, Warrior.”
“How did you slay them?” Karim asked. “With a javelin?”
Joash shook his head.
“Well how in the—
”—They’re ready,” Joash said. He took the spits, and with his knife he pushed the mouth-watering meat onto a white cloth.
Karim frowned for only a moment. Then he stabbed a piece after Herrek and Othniel had. Gens took a piece next, and after him the other two drivers.
“Tasty,” Karim said, with grease staining his lips. He glanced at the cloth. All the cooked rabbit was gone. He tore off a chunk. “Here, you should at least taste your own handiwork.”
The kindness surprised Joash. He thanked the red-bearded warrior and gobbled the tidbit. It was tasty. Now, more than ever, he wished he’d bagged three, instead of just two rabbits.
“Your new groom’s a good forager,” Karim said, as he wiped his hands on his leathers.
Herrek nodded.
“How’d you do it?” Karim asked. “Surely not with your new spear.”
“No, Warrior.”
“Well?” Karim asked, his voice rising.
“A sling.”
Karim’s bushy red eyebrows rose. So did Othniel’s blond ones.
“A handy tool, that sling,” Gens said before anyone could chide Joash about using Shurite weaponry.
Othniel grunted, while Karim scratched his bristly chin. At last, he said, “Yes, a good forager’s tool, I suppose. But don’t be thinking it will save you in a fight. Learn to cast your spear with skill. Only then will you become a warrior.”
Joash nodded, amazed they didn’t laugh at him. Then again, maybe warm rabbit in the belly was hard to argue with.
Soon Joash was up. He brushed the horses, checked their hooves, inspected the chariot, and found a worn pin in the yoke. He replaced the pin with a new one, dabbed some grease onto the wheels, and tapped a nail down that held the leather tire in place. He studied the dogs next. They panted, but each seemed content. With all that done, he went to the fire where the warriors talked and lay down to rest. It seemed that only a moment later the word was given to move out. Joash rubbed his eyes and harnessed the team. Only when all was ready did the warriors finally bestir themselves. They belted their swords, picked up their helmets, and climbed aboard their vehicles.
The advance continued, with scouts fanning out to check for ambushes. An hour later, a chariot careened back. “Sabertooths!” the warrior roared. Herrek led the squad that went to investigate. Joash stayed behind, taking his place with Herrek’s new hounds. Soon, Herrek returned. The scouts had just seen a local pride. The huge beasts lay in the shade of a big boulder, not even stirring when the entire company wheeled past.
The day wore on. Finally, Herrek took his turn as a scout. Othniel joined him. It was several hours before dusk, and the consensus was that the beach was still two hours of stiff marching away.
“Sooner or later, Tarag will know we survived,” Joash told Herrek.
“True enough.”
Gens flicked the reins. The horses broke into a trot. Alongside, the dogs kept pace. Joash, who had climbed aboard at Herrek’s command, hung onto the railing. It was a tight fit aboard the chariot, but now that he was a groom, he would, from time to time, be allowed this privilege.