“If this is real, Elezar—if by some miracle or curse we’re back in time—I refuse to live out the rest of my life hiding from history in hopes of not changing it. You said yourself, that horse has left the barn.”
“Whatever fate has befallen us, we must see it through,” Elezar said. “That means we follow the orders of our IDF superiors, and in this epoch that’s General Bin-Nun. We spy out Jericho and get out before the gates close at sundown. Then we return to Shittim to give our report.”
“And if we fail?”
“Then there might never be a Jewish nation, present or future. We’re the Palestinians in this world, Deker, and the fortresses of Canaan might as well be modern Israel. Get used to it.”
Elezar seemed a bit too eager to play a starring role in history by helping the Jews steamroll into the Promised Land. Deker, for his part, refused to surrender his own fate to history. But he had to wonder if the young zealot Salmon was right: this wasn’t the plan. He and Elezar were not supposed to be here. If anything, their presence now could only threaten Israel’s future, not ensure it.
And yet, where else could they run to in this world?
They were walking at a steady pace over the verdant land, passing early day laborers until the road widened as it bent toward Jericho and the hills beyond. Apart from the dust, they were dressed in the appropriate attire, and it amazed him that they looked as if they belonged in this land.
Field workers wore basic tunics while the traders and rich had finer clothing and jewelry: bronze cloak fasteners, gold bracelets and rings. The faces here didn’t seem all that different from those he was familiar with across the Middle East, except that there were fewer beards than he expected, and mostly on older men like Elezar. Younger men shaved, the razor apparently having been invented some time ago.
The modern man in this world, much like himself, was a clean-shaven one.
Every now and then a convoy of oxen and carts carrying produce would pass by, the Bronze Age version of eighteen-wheelers. This was a trucking route as much as a passenger trade route. Deker and Elezar would acknowledge the drivers and workers with a nod but not exchange words.
The ground started to shake and for a moment Deker thought it was a seismic tremor. The region was riddled with faults. But when he looked back over his shoulder, he saw a cloud of dust coming their way as four horsemen thundered toward them.
“Must be military,” Elezar said. “They’ll be armed.”
The patrol had to be based out of Jericho, Deker thought, as horses didn’t have the long-distance water capacity of camels. They had probably made a circuit between the nearest highway oasis and the city.
Elezar said, “Move to the side of the road to let them pass.”
But instead of speeding up, the horses began to slow down as they approached. Deker counted four armed soldiers dressed in the heavy body armor of the regular Reahn army—bronze helmets and breastplates—and radiating a distinctly menacing aura.
The nearer the horses came, the smaller Deker felt. He hadn’t been next to a horse in years, and the pounding of the hooves on the packed dirt rattled his backbone. Their muscles rippled in their legs, their eyes blazed and foam formed around their mouths. Deker would have gladly faced an armored tank instead of these fearsome, fast and powerful means of war.
“It’s kill or be killed if we’re blown,” Elezar told him. “They go down or we do, and with us the future of Israel.”
Deker couldn’t argue with Elezar’s first statement, or the rest. He instinctively reached back beneath his tunic and felt the bone handles of the two bronze daggers he had slipped behind his back.
12
The hoofbeats stopped as the patrol came to a halt just a few meters away from Deker and Elezar. The four Reahn soldiers were close enough for Deker to see the emblem of Jericho emblazoned on their breastplates: a six- pointed star exactly like the one on the flag of Israel.
“What’s with the Star of David?” Deker whispered to Elezar.
“It’s the Blazing Star of Remphan,” Elezar told him. “Quick, pull out your IDF tag so they can see it.”
Deker removed his hands from the dagger behind his back and made sure his dog tag was on full display over his tunic. “But it’s Jewish.”
“A six-pointed star could never be Jewish,” Elezar chided him. “Six is the number of man. Seven, like our menorah, is the number of God. The Blazing Star is Egyptian in origin. It represents the star god Saturn or Molech.”
“Molech?” Deker had heard the name back in Shittim.
“God of the Reahns and the name of the idol secretly worshiped by the Israelites in the wilderness. Moses had his Levites slay three thousand Israelites because of it. The six-pointed star was never a symbol of Judaism. It was Solomon, David’s son, who made it a symbol of the state.” Despite the circumstances, Elezar seemed to enjoy lecturing Deker on Jewish history once again.
Deker said nothing more as two of the soldiers dismounted and walked toward them, one wielding a scythe- like sword and the other carrying an axe. The commanding officer remained on his horse. The fourth Reahn, meanwhile, rose up in his stirrups, bow and arrow trained on them.
One of the stone-faced lieutenants barked in ancient Arabic, “Open your satchels for inspection.”
Deker glanced at Elezar and understood that these thugs wanted a piece of whatever they might be carrying before they got to the main gate, which in itself suggested bribes and corruption were not tolerated within the city walls.
Deker wordlessly offered his satchel to the soldier, who ripped it open with his sword. Several pieces of jewelry fell to the ground.
“We are tradesmen,” Elezar said as the sparkling gems in the dirt fixated the soldiers. “We were going to deposit these at the treasury in Reah.”
“No you’re not,” said the commanding officer from his horse. “You’re going to deposit them with us, and then I’ll decide if I’m going to kill you and fertilize these fields with your flesh.”
Deker watched the soldier closest to him bend over to pick up a piece of jewelry, revealing a full view of the bowman with his arrow ready to strike.
He glanced at Elezar, who seemed to be thinking the same thing he was:
As the Reahn soldier bent over again, Deker saw his opportunity. He gave the soldier a knee to the face. The soldier snapped back upright, and Deker used him as a shield to take the arrow from the bowman. Then he grabbed the soldier’s sword and hurled it at the bowman, catching him under the chin. The bowman grabbed at his throat and fell off his horse, dead.
The second dismounted soldier came at Deker, swinging his axe, ready to bring it down on Deker’s head. Deker reached back and grabbed the two knives at the small of his back. Bringing both blades out in a flash, he plunged them into the soldier’s gut, just beneath his breastplate. Blood gushed out as Deker withdrew the blades and the soldier fell forward dead.
He turned to Elezar, who had sliced the captain on his horse but failed to bring him down. Now the horse and its rider were taking off, and Deker couldn’t have that.
Deker picked up the dead bowman’s bow and arrow from the ground, drew back the string and aimed. The arrow wobbled through the air and overshot the horse. But his target was still within the one-hundred-meter range for one more shot. He picked up another arrow and pointed, aiming a few degrees higher for loft, and let go.
The arrow missed the rider but hit the horse, and down it went.
Deker ran with an axe in hand as the captain struggled to get out from under his mount. The man’s leg was pinned painfully below the fallen horse. It took only a single blow to crush the captain’s helmet and the skull beneath. Still the Reahn fought, striking out at Deker with his fist even as blood seeped out of his smashed helmet.
Deker brought up his axe to finish him off and felt a sharp pain as the Reahn thrust a dagger into his leg. Deker shouted and brought the axe down again on the captain’s face, and the Reahn’s limbs flopped to the ground, his thick fist opening up until the dagger fell from his lifeless fingers.
