transpired over the last several days. By the end of the tale, all the Gideonites in the camp had sheathed their weapons, including Izri. Many of the soldiers appeared eager to join with Jasher and his men. These Gideonites stepped back toward the camp, allowing their leaders to work out the tension felt between the two groups.
“Will you join me?” Jasher asked.
Izri still stood between two other armed men, one of whom was also a captain. Izri acted as though he wanted to negotiate. He tapped on his breastplate under his folded arms. The captain next to him shifted on his feet, glancing nervously about. All heads turned to see Amon and Sodi approach.
Amon and Sodi commanded their troops to stand down, and most of their weapons were stowed. Sodi, still holding his sword, marched to the front with Amon, taking a spot next to Jasher. Jonathan made room for both of them. His interest piqued, Jonathan watched the general. Jasher still waited for a response from Izri.
Sodi and Izri made eye contact for the first time, an almost imperceptible signal passing between them. Jonathan pulled back, not able to tell what it meant. The exchange reminded him of the encounter in Geber Pass, and his palm found the pommel of his sword.
Jonathan looked at Amon.
“Yes, I saw it,” Amon whispered.
“Do they know each other?” Jonathan whispered back.
“It appears so.”
Jonathan’s eyes rested back on Izri with some suspicion. Izri’s hand was now on his weapon, but he remained as stiff as a statue and did not look at Sodi again.
Izri’s eyes were fixed on Jasher-a cold, empty stare, as if he were looking at the general, but not actually seeing him. Jonathan stiffened. He gripped the hilt of his weapon, ready to pull.
As fast as a lightning strike, Sodi swung his weapon high into the air, and then slammed the blade down on Jasher’s right leg. Pandemonium ensued as Jasher fell to his knee with a yell. Amon leaped toward Sodi, his sword thrusting forward. The sharp tip of Amon’s steel blade struck Sodi square in the chest, splitting his leather breastplate and killing him instantly. One of Sodi’s men took a swing at Amon, but Jonathan was able to block the blow. He then dispatched the man with a single stroke. He held his ground, hoping to prevent any other would-be attacker from within Sodi’s unit.
Other men loyal to Jasher lunged forward in an attempt to stop Izri and his soldiers, but only Izri and the two Gideonites next to him had armed themselves. The three of them screamed an unintelligible threat and rushed forward, trying to fight their way to the general. Somehow Izri broke through.
Just as Izri planted the tip of his sword in the general’s side, Izri’s head was lopped off in the wide swath of a sword held by a nearby Danielite. The other two men were killed before they reached the general. Fifty Gideonites, led by Captain Mehida, surrounded Izri’s remaining men, demanding that they surrender.
Jasher fell to the ground in agony. Pekah and Eli both knelt at his side, fumbling with a tourniquet around the wounded leg, while another soldier ripped green and white cloth from a banner. Yet another soldier pressed cloth strips against the deep wound in the gasping general’s left side. Jasher tried to sit up, but several soldiers kept him down.
Jonathan stood near Amon and Tavor, searching the faces of every man nearby, intent on detecting any other imminent attacks. He still held his sword high in the air, ready to strike any foe. Many of the men around him stared up at his hand, their expressions confused. Tavor nudged him and pointed to the blade. Jonathan’s heart skipped a beat when he realized the Gideonite soldiers had now seen the Sword of Daniel. Too late now, he thought.
He whispered his thanks to Tavor, then stooped to the ground, removed the bow and quiver from his back, and retrieved the piece of lamb’s wool from the belt pouch that held his small glow-stone. After vigorously rubbing the entire blade for a minute, he did the same to the small stone, jammed it into the pommel, tucked away the wool, and snatched up his items.
Jonathan lifted the blade skyward. A pale blue glow that continued to brighten gently rested on the scene. In the near dark, the light of the large glow-stone sword was of great benefit to those who worked feverishly to save Jasher’s life. Within moments, the sword nearly blazed like the suns. Jonathan ignored the few Gideonites who gaped at it.
Amon barked orders to the troops. Runners were sent with all speed to the main body of Jasher’s army, secreted around the bend of the road. Other soldiers prepared a stretcher, on which the general was laid. Several of the captured Gideonites shared information about their camp and directed Captain Mehida to Izri’s tent. There, Mehida’s men found bedding, unlit torches, and some glow-stone lanterns. They lit up torches and charged lanterns, then passed them down a line so the pathway to the tent was easier to see.
Jonathan, Pekah, and Eli followed the litter bearers, encouraging Jasher to stay awake and talk to them. They arrived at the tent to find the inside fully ablaze from the many lanterns and torches held by the soldiers. Several men carefully transferred the general from the stretcher to the more comfortable bedding at the center of the tent.
“I am trained in healing,” a soldier hollered, pushing his way through the crowd.
The healer arrived at Jasher’s side, paused briefly, then checked the wounds.
Looking on, Jonathan could see that Jasher’s skin was pale as moons-light. His breathing strained, he drifted in and out of consciousness. His body trembled intermittently from shock.
The healer placed a few nearby blankets over Jasher to keep him warm. Only the general’s right leg and left side remained uncovered so the wounds could be treated. Jasher still bled through his temporary bandages, and those attending his wounds could barely keep up with making more cloth strips. The healer ordered the assisting soldiers to apply more pressure, then searched the crowd.
“Where is Captain Amon?” he asked.
Amon stepped up from the back and identified himself.
“My name is Serug. I need to speak to you alone.”
Amon barked orders that the tent was to be cleared except for those attending the general or holding lights. Jonathan paused and wondered if the captain meant for him to leave with the others. He caught Amon’s gaze, and the captain motioned for him to stay.
Jasher’s weak voice was heard, but not understood right away. Amon went to his side, and Jasher repeated his request.
“I want to speak… with Pekah. His companions should stay. Where… is Abigail?” The wheezing general coughed, and Serug wiped blood from his lips, then called for a small sip of water to be provided for Jasher’s comfort.
Abigail burst into the tent with an escort. She rushed to Jasher’s side and shook her head, saying, “No, no, no, no!” Tears poured down her cheeks as she took Jasher’s right hand in hers.
Managing a smile, Jasher gazed lovingly upon his distraught wife. His shoulders shook with another cough. Turning white, he winced. His eyes fluttered shut, but then opened wide.
“Amon?” Jasher called out.
Amon leaned down. “Yes, sir?”
“I did not know it… before tonight…” he paused to cough, then continued. “Sodi… part of Rezon’s covenant. Izri, too.” The general coughed again, but it was shallow and labored. “There may be others. Find them.”
“We will. I promise,” Amon replied.
“Pekah?”
Pekah moved up to where Jasher lay. “Yes, General?”
“Amon… is my most loyal friend. I can always…”
Jasher shook. The veil of death seemed to be drawing over him. But once again, he became very alert.
“I trust him like none other. But he is married and can’t help me. You are not. I trust you.”
Pekah didn’t seem to have any idea what the general was trying to say. He looked quizzically at Amon, at Eli, and then at Tavor who were all nearby, but they could not explain. Pekah cast his questioning gaze toward Jonathan. All Jonathan could do was shake his head and shrug.
With great effort, Jasher tried to lift his head to see Abigail. A soldier rolled a spare blanket and placed it behind the general’s neck.
Tears welled up in Jasher’s eyes. “My only love… my dear Abigail.”
Abigail nearly sobbed. She clung to his shoulder.
“Pekah, give me your hand,” Jasher choked out.
