I felt power like heat emanating from him. The power flowed from him as he pointed the bloodied, double-bladed axe at me, chanting all the while.

  I felt it. Sorcery claimed my spirit. The power propelled me through the Maze, away from the chanting. Up through the palace, it sped faster than any eagle. It winged with me, crossing the land of Canaan until it came to the slope where I knelt and trembled with fear. The force slammed into me.

  Bloodlust filled my mind and heart. I must find Abram and slay him.

  Chuckling evilly, I withdrew the dagger of the fallen star from its sheath. In the moonlight, I examined the silvery metal. It was beautiful, powerful, no ordinary metal, but from a fallen star. The blade had been forged with evil spells. For this moment, to slay him of the strange god—

  I grinned wickedly. For this reason, I’d been chosen. I was a vessel of the Minotaur, of the fallen angel behind the Minotaur.

  I climbed to my feet, chuckling most foully. I spat upon the ground. With grim resolve, I stared up at the trees. A breeze caused their leaves, to rustle. I knew this was a momentous time. All the talk about trade and an opening into the land of Canaan for the merchants of Crete was pretense. I’d come at the behest of the Minotaur. I’d come to take the life of the acolyte. Lot could rot in Chedorlaomer’s host of slaves. His daughters and wife could rot, too. I cared not one whit for them. He’d saved my life, bah! He’d been a fool. I’d not tell Abram anything about Lot, as I’d be too busy slaying the damned acolyte.

  I began to race up the slope. I knew I’d find Abram tonight, and I’d kill him, fulfilling my calling. If I could, I’d sever his head from his trunk. I’d do it just as the Minotaur had severed the head of the sacrifice. I’d bag the bloody head, going through Canaan with it, returning by ship to Crete, to the palace. I’d enter the Maze and show my master, the Minotaur, the severed head of Abram. The, I’d collect an awesome reward for it.

  Thinking of it spurred me faster. Panting, gulping air, I reached the trees. In the short distance, I spied tents. There were torches flickering. I headed for them.

  Before I’d taken seven more steps, robed men with spears, daggers and torches stepped from behind a mound of dirt. They must have been hiding there, ten ambushing bastards waiting for me.

  A bearded man called out in the language of the Amorites, telling me to stop and put down my dagger.

  His words were meaningless though I understood them. I snarled as a wave of bloodlust filled me. A haze of red fell before my eyes. The power of the Minotaur was upon me.

  With a great shout, I raced at the ten with their torches. Several hurled spears. With a swift move of my dagger, I caught one behind its bronze head, knocking it aside. The others missed as I wove and dodged, charging.

  Would I have slain the ten? I slashed at one. He cried out and fell away. I slashed at another, and he fell away as well. The others backed away from me, frightened, no doubt.

  I crouched, looking at them.

  Were these the warriors of Abram that would make Chedorlaomer pay for his misdeeds in Canaan? They were as chaff before me. With the bloodlust beating in my brain—

  I stopped.

  A new man stepped into the torchlight. He was different, older, with a bushy gray beard. His countenance might have awed me once. Now, I’m sure my eyes burned like fiery coals. I hated him fiercely.

  Then, as he raised his hands high, a mantle of power filled him. I snarled, looking away, raising my dagger arm as if a great light poured from him. Seconds later, the light faded. I looked upon a normal man once more.

  I knew he must be Abram. I knew the power of the Minotaur propelled me. I howled as a wolf at the moon. Then, I sprinted at him with my knife poised to kill. I came at him, and he stood watching, not making a move, almost as if he knew I couldn’t harm him.

  That was ridiculous. I’d come across land and sea, facing many armies for this moment.

  I neared him. As I did, I caught swift movement on either side of me. I slashed right, slashed left. Men cried out, falling away. I howled. The blunt end of spears struck me. Two men clubbed the back of my head. I staggered. Fortunately, the bloodlust helped me shed the weakness.

  More men rushed forward. Clubs rose and fell, rose and fell. I felt the thuds upon my skull. I tried to shrug off the blows. I slashed, but a man grabbed my wrist. It was Abram. He was the oldest, but he was strong. He held my dagger hand still. More blows struck my head, one after the other.

  Waves of weakness surged upon me. I thudded upon the dark sward. The clubbing blows drove consciousness from me, as I’d failed to slay the acolyte of the strange god.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  I awoke by degrees, my head spinning, my mind a blur. I struggled to rise and then realized I was already standing.

  My hands and feet were bound to a stout pole driven into the hard earth. There was a bonfire before me. It crackled with heat. The stars glittered high in the heavens.

  Around the fire sat armed men who watched me warily. Some had their arms in slings. Others had rent clothing as if from my slashing dagger.

  On a flat stone near the fire lay the dagger of the Minotaur. It reflected the firelight, glittering like a jewel.

  I struggled against my bonds, exhausted, feeling like a trapped animal, with a fell spirit driving me.

  A tall man with the great gray beard stepped near until he was several paces from me.

  I struggled even more fiercely to free myself, sweat soon staining my garments.

  “Who are you?” Abram asked in the language of the Amorites.

  I snarled in reply like a beast.

  “Why did you try to slay me?”

  I glared at Abram. I’d failed. He hadn’t slain me out of hand for trying, and that would be his mistake. Perhaps he’d untie me. Perhaps—cunning from afar, from the Minotaur, perhaps, came upon me.

  “Untie my hands and feet,” I said. “I promise I’ll do no more. I’ve tried and failed. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  Abram studied me. “You’re not from the land of Canaan. Your red hair and weapon—you come from elsewhere. Tell me, where do you come from?”

  I tried to answer peacefully. Rage took over as snarls and spittle came from my mouth. I struggled once more as I felt the Minotaur looking over my shoulder. It seemed as if he raised his coarse huge hand and put it on my shoulder. He seemed to bow in prayer. Strength began to fill me, strength from the Minotaur. I knew if I struggled hard enough, I could rip these ropes from me. Strength mounted in me as I struggled harder.

  “No,” Abram said.

  I looked up at him and winced, startled.

  A bright light emanated from him. Abram mumbled under his breath even as he stared at me. His head jerked back and he took several steps back. He stared, but not at me. He stared over my shoulder as if someone was there. Did Abram see the spirit of the Minotaur? Could he understand what was happening? Was Abram a wizard then using black magic? Had he bewitched the Pharaoh back then and gained his riches that way?

  With a great cry, Abram fell to his knees. He bowed his head and raised his arms high. In a loud voice, he said, “Everyone on your knees. Bow before Him Most High.”

  One after another, the men around the fire dropped to their knees, bowing their heads.

  Abram cast himself prone onto the ground. He cried out in a strange tongue I didn’t understand. He prayed to Him Most High.

  The others fell prostrate upon the ground.

  I watched through slitted eyes. I watched and hated. How I wanted to break these bonds. I looked over my shoulder on the right and left, but I couldn’t see the Minotaur. In this moment, I could no longer feel him.

  Abram climbed to his feet. There was something terrible about him, something frightening, holy and wonderful.

  I turned my head, snarling and raving, struggling to free myself.

  Abram came to me and put a hand on each shoulder. He spoke in a gentle, soothing voice.

  It made no difference to my state.

  In a loud, commanding voice, Abram said, “Spirit of the Minotaur, in the name of Him Most High, I order you to come out from this man. You may no longer have him. The spell you’ve put on him is broken.”

  Abraham clutched my shoulders. Warmth flowed from them.

  I raised my head and screamed. The presence and power of the Minotaur tore from my soul. It was an agonizing thing. It felt as if a thing I loved was ripped away. I sensed, in those moments, as if a great band attached to me from the Minotaur released. Like something stretched nearly to breaking, it snapped away, fleeing into the darkness in the direction of Crete.

  I slumped against the ropes, against the pole. I was no longer linked to my master. He was no longer my master.

  I blinked, stunned. The Minotaur had used me like a javelin hurled at Abram. The Minotaur hadn’t cared whether the javelin broke or not, merely that it slew what he desired. I’d been a tool in the hands of the Minotaur for reasons I didn’t understand. Why would he care about Abram?

  I raised my head, peering into the eyes of Abram.

  “What have you done?” I asked.

  “I have done nothing,” Abram said, “Him Most High has freed you from the spell of the Minotaur.”

  “You know about the Minotaur?”

  “I’ve learned about him in these few moments.”

  I glanced at the men. They were lying on the ground as if asleep. Only Abram and I were privy to the conversation.

  “I came here to slay you.”

  “I understand,” Abram said.

  “But you’ve done me no harm. Instead, you’ve helped me, I think.”

  “I’ve helped you,” Abram said. “Or should I say, Him Most High through me has aided you for reasons of His own.”

  Tears welled in my eyes as a sense of freedom filled me. I was my own man. I’d never felt that before. I hadn’t just been a servant of the Sea King, his ear. I’d been a slave to the crown of Minos. I’d been a slave to the Minotaur. A highly placed slave, but a slave no less. My thoughts and patterns had been subtly altered these many years.

  I remembered how my father and mother had wept upon my leaving on the black-sailed ship of Crete. The Sea King and Minotaur used sorcery to keep hold of other lands. Often, they sacrificed those that came from other places just as I’d seen in my mind’s eye the Minotaur slay the naked man deep in the Maze. He’d done that for greater power.

  Abram stepped back and picked up the dagger of the fallen star. He examined the metal, nodding, setting the dagger back on the flat rock.

  “I’m sorry for trying to slay you,” I said.

  Abram faced me. “I accept your apology.”

  “I have a message for you.”

  Abram raised his eyebrows. “From the Minotaur?”

  “No. From your nephew, Lot.”

  Abram stepped nearer.

  I began to relate what had happened: how I’d fought with the giants, escaped to Sodom where Lot had rescued me. I told Abram how I’d gone to Bera, about the battle with Chedorlaomer and what had happened afterward. Lastly, I told him about the sack of Sodom and the taking of many captives, including Lot, his wife and daughters.

  Abram stood still until the end. Then, his beard bristled, and he asked, “What else?”

  “Lot is a captive of Chedorlaomer. I escaped at his request. Lot saved my life, and later begged me to tell you. Now I have. But I have no idea what you can do about it. Chedorlaomer is a great king, a wizard of war. None can defeat him. All have fallen before his spear. All have fallen before his cunning.”

  “Chedorlaomer has taken Lot captive?” Abram asked.

  “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

  “Up! Up!” Abram shouted at the men around him. He clapped his hands seven times, and cried out, “Up! Up!”

  Those who had fallen asleep shook their heads and rose, picking up their weapons.

  “Chedorlaomer has captured Lot,” Abram said. “He’s taken him captive, along with his wife and children.”

  The men stared at each other.

  “This evil will not stand,” Abram said.

  “What can you do?” an Amorite asked.

  Abram looked up into the starry heavens, raising his right arm high. “Oh, Lord,” he said, “I hold my right hand high and swear that I shall not take one piece of loot for myself from those Chedorlaomer has spoiled. Let no man say that those who are evil have enriched me. I learned my lesson in Egypt. I ask now that You give me direction, that You help me free Lot and his family. I beg this of you, Lord.”

  Abram bowed his head and lowered his hand. He stood in silence staring at the flames.

  We waited. I tied to the pole and the retainers, the men of Abram, silent and waiting, none talking among themselves.

  At last, Abram looked up. There was sternness to his countenance. There was a certainty and a fearless resolve.

  “It’s time to summon my armed men,” Abram said. “We’re going to give chase.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  The next morning, Abram sent messengers summoning his armed retainers to assemble at his tent and to be ready for a campaign north.

  I rested because I was sore and tired, feeling different in spirit. Several armed men watched me, keeping me from Abram. During that time, I saw some of his herds of cattle, sheep and goats. The men told me he had many more, one of the greatest herders in Canaan.

  Many people moved among the tents, including children. None of them was from Abram’s loins, however. Though Abram was a great chief and highly respected, he didn’t have any children. That struck me as odd. What was the reason for that? He should take more wives then. Surely, the problem couldn’t be from him.

  That afternoon, I caught a glimpse of his wife Sarai. Although she was older, she was remarkably beautiful, a queen of loveliness and poise. No wonder Pharaoh had wanted her.

  I spent most of the time staring at the clouds or walking under the Great Trees of Mamre. I reflected on all that had happened to me on the journey to Canaan. I reflected on my instructions given by the Minotaur in the Maze beneath Knossos.

  Afterward, I recalled my youth in Athens, how joyous it had been. I remembered the black-sailed ship of Knossos, how the captain had chosen me, walking across the gangplank onto the ship, leaving my family. I’d forgotten about my entrance into Knossos. Upon our arrival, soldiers had taken us tribute gifts to a school. There a lean man with evil eyes had droned to us for many days. They’d allowed us a little water but no food during the ordeal. The lean man must have cast the first enchantment on us. He bound us to the throne of Minos. We verbally accepted his rule in us, agreeing to serve him with all our might and soul. After that, we left the school and went to a feast.

  As I reflected on that, I recalled that not all of us had made that choice. A few had refused—the most stubborn or pious. I’d never seen them since. The Minotaur must have sacrificed them down below, which meant the legend about our sacrifice to him was true.

  I’d been too pliant in those days, becoming a servant to the throne of Minos, not quite with my full wits. Sorcerers had cast other spells on me. The Minotaur had put the final enchantment on me.

  Abram with a prayer and the touch of his hands had broken that. I was free, as I hadn’t been since my childhood in Athens.

  What kind of god freed men from the dominion of the Minotaur, freed men from captivity?

  The armed retainers began to trickle in, men with arms. Some had armor. Many had leather helmets. They all seemed skilled. There were three-hundred-and-eighteen armed retainers of Abram in all.

  Others arrived, three chieftains of the Amorites leading them. There was Mamre, an older man, and his younger brothers, Eschol and Aner. Each chieftain brought warriors. Altogether, with the armed retainers of Abram, they numbered close to a thousand. None had shields like the phalanx of Chedorlaomer. The Amorites had spears, a few slings, as they were shepherds, and some had axes. Abram’s men had axes and daggers like mine, close-in fighting weapons.

  By the time the last warrior arrived, Abram learned that Chedorlaomer marched north, having already bypassed the Trees of Mamre. Chedorlaomer headed back to Elam and Shinar far in the east.

  Abram summoned everyone to him. When they gathered, he climbed onto a large, flat rock. He was dressed for battle, a leather cap on his head, his cloak tucked in his belt and a short bronze sword thrust through his sash.

  Abram didn’t talk long or make a grandiose speech. He did say in a loud voice that Him Most High, the Creator of heaven and earth, would be watching over us. God would give the enemy into our hands. We would win, not by the power of our arms, or keen stratagems, but because we trusted in the goodness and righteousness of a holy God.

  The men gave a great hurrah, doing it three times.

  Abram nodded and pointed.

  I along with many others turned. Servants brought up many donkeys laden with supplies. Clearly, Abram had no plan to live off the land like raiders, but bring our food with us.

  I shook my head at the brave folly I was witnessing. What did these shepherds and armed retainers think they could do against Chedorlaomer? There weren’t enough men to take on the conqueror. If giants like Kron and soldiers like the Sacred Band had failed—miserably, too—how could Abram’s paltry numbers make a difference?

  We set out several hours later, marching swiftly, the donkeys bringing our supplies.

  Later, Abram dropped back with my guards and me. Eschol was with Abram, and the Amorite chieftain never took his eyes from me.

  “Damon,” Abram said, “I’m giving you a choice. If you wish, you can start out for Crete.”

  “I’m a dead man if I return there now,” I said.

  “You fear to return to the Minotaur without my head?”

  “Most assuredly.”

  The men around Abram glowered, Eschol most of all. They clearly wished to run me through with their spears. Had I wounded some of their brothers my first night?