“Their prophets, yes. Most of their prophets are weak. But as long as this one remains alive, he gives the people strength. We must find him.”
Yambalya’s eyes burned in the torchlight. “The servants of Baal seek him even now. They have never failed in the hunt. He has not been seen since casting his curse. We believe he has fled the land.”
Izevel laughed. “There is nowhere for him to flee. I watch the roads, and I have sent word to my father. He rules the sea. We will find him.”
“Indeed we will, my Queen. I have read his future in the stars.”
Izevel bent her head forward, close to Yambalya’s. “What have you seen?”
“Eliyahu will not die the natural death of men—to this I will swear.”
Izevel settled back in her throne, her face flushed with pleasure. “Excellent. I will hang his body from the walls of Shomron for the crows to devour. Let his death be a message to all who would stand against us.”
“Yes, my Queen. It will be done.”
Uriel shook me awake before the sun, the image of Izevel still looming in my mind in the half-light. I wanted to ask my master about the dream, but his distant eyes still defied interruption. As I stepped out of the cave, the old prophet stared back up our path in the direction we’d come. He sat down on the earth, placed his head between his knees, and was soon trembling with the spirit of prophecy.
By the time my master returned, our bedrolls were repacked and Balaam ready to travel. Uriel swept past me, stepping out of the cave and down toward the trail. “We have to move quickly. There isn’t much time.” He didn’t elaborate as he dropped into the brush below our camp. Balaam trotted to keep up.
The navi kept to a driving pace all day. Daniel once told me that Uriel didn’t concern himself with taking the shortest or fastest paths, that his goal was to travel among the people. Yet, we met no one along our path. What had changed?
The late afternoon sun had already reached the western ridge when Uriel finally stopped with a raised hand and gazed back up the trail. I spotted a man in the distance running toward us. Uriel increased his pace, but in that brief pause, a sad smile flit across his face.
The runner drew closer, but Uriel didn’t slow or turn again. I kept glancing back over my shoulder, measuring the runner’s progress as the trail rolled up and down between the hills, gently climbing toward the west. When our pursuer reached the hilltop directly behind us, he paused and bent forward, hands on knees to catch his wind, then straightened and resumed running down the hill. In that moment, the dying sun illuminated his features, and I realized he wasn’t a man at all, just a boy: Yonaton.
Uriel did not pause until Yonaton caught up with us. Gasping for air, he tried to speak, “They’re looking—”
Uriel cut him off with his own skin of water. “First drink. You’ve had a hard journey—it was brave of you to come.” The tenderness in Uriel’s eyes contrasted with the rigid impatience of his body.
Yonaton gulped down the skin of water and began again to deliver his message. “Yesterday afternoon they came looking for you. They were part of the Queen’s personal guard. I recognized them from the wedding. They heard that I played during the gathering. They came to my house and had me lead them to the valley, where they searched all the caves with swords drawn. They asked me where everyone had gone. I told them that you were the last ones to leave that morning. They asked which direction you went, and I pointed them toward Jericho.” Exhausted by the flood of words and gasping for breath, Yonaton doubled over.
My mouth went dry. I pictured the long column of soldiers that had escorted Izevel to her wedding. How many had remained behind?
“How many were they?” Uriel asked.
“Four,” he forced out. Yonaton held up as many fingers without standing straight.
“You saw them go toward Jericho?”
“Yes. I wanted to come and warn you immediately, but it was already too dark, so I came at first light.” I thought of the fire inside the cave and Balaam remaining burdened all night, ready to travel—had Uriel known?
“You brought nothing with you?”
“When I finished my food and water, I dropped the skins so that I could run faster.”
My feet ached in sympathy. I had a hard enough time keeping up with Uriel; I couldn’t imagine trying to overtake him. Yonaton stood barefoot—had his sandals also slowed him down?
Uriel sighed, turned his eyes to the sky, and shook his head. “Again, that was very brave of you. I doubt you can appreciate how much you risked coming after us. You will need to stay with us now. It is no longer safe to return.”
“Why? They don’t know I’ve come.”
“They do. You were followed.”
Yonaton and I turned as one, but saw nothing other than the wind playing over the low hills in the distance, stirring the brush.
“You won’t see them.” Uriel shook his head. “They will stay out of sight until they are ready.”
I gazed up at my master. “Ready for what?”
“Surely you can reason that out for yourself?” Uriel started again up the trail. “Come, we must go on.”
Despite the prophet’s words, Yonaton was too drained by his run to do more than trudge along. When the sun set, we were forced to a crawl. Our trail wound through a steep ravine, already deep in shadow. Balaam brayed as he struggled to find footing on the loose rocks. After one particularly loud protest, Uriel laid his hand on the donkey’s nose. “Peace, old friend.” He gazed up at a rocky outcrop on the hillside above us. “Stay here. I want to examine that cave.”
Uriel displayed no sign of fatigue from the day’s march as he climbed up the steep slope and disappeared between the shadowed boulders. Moments later he reappeared and yelled down to us, “Come up. This looks like a good place to spend the night. Lev, see to the donkey. Yonaton, gather wood.”
It took all of my skill to coax Balaam up to our resting spot. By the time I finished tying up and watering him, Yonaton came back with a double armful of wood. “Build the fire inside the cave,” I whispered. “That way it won’t be easily seen.”
“No, build it outside tonight.” Uriel turned away before either of us could question him.
I struggled to prepare the evening meal—a large crack at the back of the cave drew the wind right through the hollow, turning our shelter into a chimney. My eyes stung as smoke swirled in the cross-draft, and the fire licked my fingers from every side. Any feelings of security brought about by finding cover faded with the dying daylight. Our pursuers couldn’t be far behind Yonaton. I stared out into the night as I cooked—listening.
Uriel hummed softly to himself in the back of the cave, unpacking and repacking our gear, while Yonaton snored between us. I gazed up at the stars. Was it really less than three months since Dahlia and I lay on the wall watching them, wondering what the future held? Was I now gazing at them for the last time?
Uriel finished packing and came to the mouth of the cave. “Take the food off the fire, it is time to eat.”
My eyes watered from the smoke. “It’s not done yet, Master.”
