I nodded.

  Soon, with the others, I headed for the fortress of the Emim to await the victorious army of the kings of the East.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kron escorted us to the stark hill fort of the tribe of Emim, the fortress Shaveh Kiriathaim.

  It was a strange name, but it was their pride. A single path led up to it. The stout walls seemed impenetrable to any who’d attempt to storm it. However, Shaveh Kiriathaim wasn’t large compared to the company already camped beneath it. There were tents and lean-tos on the other side of the fortress, not visible from the trade road. That was why we hadn’t seen the encampment the first time going past.

  Various runners, I learned, had raced to other parts of the country. They gave the orders of the king of the Emim. The king meant to assemble a host to meet and defeat the advancing kings of the East.

  In the coming days, as I worked with others, digging pits, carting goods or practicing with Amorites, I learned the names of the kings of the East. Chedorlaomer of Elam led them. Elam was far to the east, weeks upon weeks of overland travel. The same was true of the other lands. There was King Amraphel of Shinar, Arioch King of Ellasar, and Tidal called King of Nations. Four kings, four warrior-kings who marched toward us.

  Chedorlaomer the Conqueror had come fourteen years ago, subduing the Cities of the Plain: Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah, Zeboiim and Zoar. For twelve years, the cities had paid him tribute. As I said before, in the thirteenth year, the cities ceased sending tribute. The kings of the five cities began to marshal their soldiers. They readied themselves in case Chedorlaomer were foolish enough to come again. The five kings of the Plain had also sent out emissaries throughout the land of Canaan. The plan was that all the giants, Amorites and soldiers from the Cities of the Plain would gather in a great host. They would march out to meet Chedorlaomer…if he dared approach.

  Chedorlaomer had found allies, however, three other kings to join him. The kings of the East had marched faster and struck sooner than expected, before those of Canaan could join with one another. It seemed clear Chedorlaomer planned to defeat each region, defeat the enemy in detail instead of facing everyone at once.

  It was a sound strategy.

  We learned that the host of the kings of the East had smote the Rephaim of Ashteroth Karnaim on the field of battle. They’d almost broken into the great city. A few giants had escaped the battle and barred the city gates.

  Storming a walled city was often bloody work. Besieging it would take time. During that time, those of Canaan might marshal and unite. This, by his actions, Chedorlaomer clearly sought to avoid. He’d shown that he wanted to defeat those of Canaan in detail, one at a time.

  Thus, the kings of the East left Ashteroth Karnaim to its fate, continuing to march south along the main trade route.

  Two days later, we received word from runners of the Zuzim. They were another tribe of giants, living between Ashteroth Karnaim and Shaveh Kiriathaim in and around the city of Ham. The giants of Zuzim requested aid in facing the army of the kings of the East, which were encamped outside the city of Ham.

  At the same time, runners arrived from Sodom and Gomorrah. I learned what they’d said. “Give us a month and we’ll be ready to march. We’re not ready yet.”

  Kron swore, insulting the soldiers of Sodom and Gomorrah. They would rue the day they left the Emim and Zuzim in the lurch.

  Other runners returned from the Horites of Mount Seir much farther south near the Land of Turquoise. “We will come soon,” the Horites said. “But we need a few more weeks before we arrive.”

  Morale dropped among the Amorites in and around Shaveh Kiriathaim. Some of the spearmen of Jethro wished to slip away during the night. They said it would be foolish to face the Eastern kings with only partial strength.

  Jethro forbade it. So did the other Amorite chieftains. They’d given their word to Kron.

  Fortunately, a trickle of reinforcements began arriving. That included more Amorites and some slingers of the Amurru desiring coin.

  Kron purchased slaves from the slavers, freeing them afterward. He spoke to each group, putting the freed slaves in companies under this man or that. The freed slaves would fight with their own people and own national weapons: Amorites with spears, Amurru with slings, and so forth.

  One night, Kron and I walked the coming battlefield. He asked my opinion, how I’d face the kings of the East. This was before several Zuzim giants came to us, vowing to defeat the Eastern host.

  After listening to my thoughts, Kron looked at me. “How are your bones, your joints?”

  “I’ve recovered from your shield bash, if that’s what you mean.”

  I’d learned to speak plainly and boldly to Kron, to look him in the face, I’d found he appreciated that because other men, even Jethro, looked away in terror. They couldn’t stand the eeriness in the eyes of the champion of the Emim.

  “You’re tough, for a man. What possessed you to face me? Did you really think you could win?”

  “I’m an emissary of the Minotaur. I serve him, and I have a mission.”

  “Oh?”

  I spoke to Kron about the acolyte of a strange god.

  “Aha! I’ve heard of him. He lives far from here, although he lives in the land of Canaan. What was his name? Yes. Abram. His wife Sarai is said to be very beautiful.”

  “You know who he is?”

  “I do.”

  I looked around and debated asking if he’d release me so that I could find this Abram. I’d kill Abram and take his head to the Minotaur to show that I’d destroyed any semblance of this strange god.

  “Is Abram a giant?” I asked.

  “He’s no giant. He doesn’t have divine blood as we who are the sons of gods.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to that. Kron was like no man I’d ever met, other than the Minotaur. The Minotaur had supernatural power, able to call across distances and summon magic such as none I’d ever known.

  “Will we use wizardry against the kings of the East?”

  Kron snorted, spitting. “I’ve no need of magic. I’m a champion. I use these.” He raised his huge hands.

  I’d felt one of them clutch my throat. I knew their strength. Kron could have snapped me as I could a child. I’d had no chance of defeating him.

  Against Chedorlaomer, there’d be more than just three giants. At least fifty would fight the kings of the East, maybe more. How could Chedorlaomer of Elam hope to face fifty giants or more? Perhaps as many as a hundred giants would fight him.

  I was beginning to pity the fool of a warrior-king. How could he dare to pit his soldiers against the giants of the land of Canaan, those living east of the Jordan River and Salt Sea?

  Kron grinned at me. “I’m looking forward to the coming battle. We’ll smash these vain kings. You’ll win glory with us, Damon. Then, I’ll send you on your way. You can search for Abram, the fool bringing his strange ways and who follows—”

  Kron’s eyes swirled with something that might have been fear, and he stopped speaking.

  How odd.

  “I don’t want to talk about Abram,” he said.

  This was the first hint that maybe the Minotaur hadn’t told me everything about the acolyte. Was there something unique and dangerous about the strange god? There must be something about Abram or his god that could make a giant champion shudder.

  Kron left, striding away, to continue with whatever chores a champion of the Emim does.

  The continuing days passed in preparation for Chedorlaomer and his conquering host.

  Harried runners came from the north. We learned that the kings of the East had smashed the Zuzim, killing many giants, leaving them dead on the plain as carrion for the birds. Afterward, the kings of the East had stormed the city of Ham, setting it afire and looting whatever escaped the flames. They carted away a host of captive women and children. The runners also spoke of defeated soldiers wearing yokes so there was no chance they could escape and fight again.

  Eastern slavers followed the army of the kings of the East. It was a great train of slaves, wagons of loot and laden donkeys.

  That night, a few Amorites slipped away.

  The next morning, Kron with five other giants marched all of us to a grim spectacle. He showed us bloody poles. Upon them were the severed heads of the Amorites who’d attempted to flee the coming fight.

  “There’s no escape,” Kron said. “You’re here and you’ll fight with us, or you’ll die. We’ll mutilate your bodies and put your heads on poles. But if you fight with us, we’ll win and defeat these kings of the East. Each of you will be rich.” He pointed at the slingers of the Amurru. “You’ll leave laden with spoils and women. More women than you’ll know what to do with.” He laughed as he said that.

  We looked at one another and at the severed heads. The kings of the East had defeated two tribes of giants and their retainers. Why would we succeed? Perhaps Kron saw the questions in our eyes.

  “We’ll win because I’m here.” Kron smote his chest. “We’ll win because I’m a master of stratagems. I’ll use each of you with great cunning. Your task will be to fight with valor and know we can defeat the invader. Remember, we’ll take all he has collected.”

  Kron laughed in a jocular way.

  Once more, we stared at the severed heads. There was no escape. Therefore, we’d have to stand and fight. Perhaps Chedorlaomer had defeated the other giants. Perhaps the other giants had been reckless and foolish. It could be the kings of the East had a special tactic for facing giants. Well, we had the Zuzim who’d fled the last battle. They’d surely told Kron what Chedorlaomer had done to win. Thus, Kron could counter that.

  We practiced that afternoon. The Amurru twirled their swings. The Amorites used their spears, thrusting into straw dummies. I remained with the attendants. We’d fight with the giants. I had my dagger, a buckler—a small shield—and a leather helmet.

  “If you please me,” a giant said, “I’ll give you a leather jacket that will ward off blows.”

  I ran errands for him and told him about Crete, the palace and the Maze. He absorbed the information.

  I had no idea why he wanted to know these things. I didn’t care. I wanted the leather coat.

  Three days later, I got it.

  On the fourth day, to the north as far as I could see, a low gray cloud billowed. The army of the Eastern kings no doubt stirred it into existence. The enemy was coming, one laden with spoils and captives.

  We told ourselves their soldiers must be tired from the constant fighting. Many would be suffering from poorly healed wounds. Now, they’d have to face us with our…I counted seventy giants. Seventy!

  We nearly had one thousand others including Amorites, Amurru, freed slaves and the giants’ attendants. Each giant had to be worth ten men, at least, possibly more.

  We’d slay the foolish kings of the East. It would have been better if the men of Sodom and Gomorrah had joined us. It would have been better if the Horites from Mount Seir and other Amorites joined. Because those others hadn’t, there’d be more loot, women and other prizes for each of us.

  The gray billowing cloud drew nearer as the kings of the East moved south along the trade road, coming toward us. Tomorrow or the day after that, we’d face the invader and stop them, or we’d all surely die.

  Chapter Twelve

  Runners raced out to observe the approaching kings of the East. Only half made it back, and they were petrified. They told of Eastern runners swifter than desert donkeys, chasing and slaying many of them. A few spoke about a massive enemy host.

  Kron didn’t cringe at the news. I was with him almost constantly now.

  He told me why, as to why he kept me near—not why he didn’t fear the coming battle.

  “There’s something about you, about your dagger. I’ve consulted the runes concerning both. I then asked my brother, the king, to search your future. You bring something I don’t understand. It’s powerful and possibly shattering. Therefore, you’ll stay with me, little man.”

  It was an honor although I wondered what I’d brought that was so shattering. Could it be the dagger, the oath I’d taken or the Minotaur watching me from afar, at least at times?

  After listening to the many scouting reports, the king of the Emim adjusted the battle plan.

  The king was a huge giant like Kron, with a bushier beard, intense eyes but without the champion’s vigor, perhaps due to his greater age.

  The other giants marched across the possible battlefield with the king. There were seventy-three giants in all. The shortest was seven feet, the tallest, Kron and the king, at nine. They were all brawny, with larger than normal heads. Each was superlatively armed and armored, and glittered with gold, silver and gems.

  I’d learned the Emim “plucked” each caravan passing Shaveh Kiriathaim. We’d been an exception. They called it a toll to use the road and be free from robbers. They plucked the caravans but didn’t destroy them, letting the lost “feathers” regrow so they could pluck again in the future.

  After marching with the giants, the king gathered the rest of the host, going through a practice session.

  Amurru slingers and younger Amorites were in front, a skirmishing line. The Amurru would employ their favored weapon, peppering with stones and other items those who marched against the host. The younger Amorites were armed with javelins and darts. The javelins were longer and lighter lengths of springy wood, often shod with stone. The darts were heavier and shorter, with bronze heads, and thus more costly. Not many of the Amorite runners possessed darts. They would race at the enemy and shower those already peppered by the sling stones. If they were lucky, they would retrieve the darts—and those of their enemies. In fact, battlefield scavenging was one of their main activities, it seemed, including looting the dead.

  The main body of Amorites had shields and spears. Jethro and the other slaver captains were among them. They’d act as a spear wall to stop the onrush of the kings of the East. Behind the spear wall would stand the seventy-three giants with their retainers, me among them.

  The giants had a more familiar method of war to me. Each giant fought as a champion with his selected attendants around and assisting him. Most of the giants had axes, a few had heavy bronze swords, and others used ominous spears. The attendants primarily protected the giant’s back and sides, allowing him to plow ahead and wreak havoc upon those facing him.

  I’d stand with Kron the champion, a place of pride and honor.

  The king told us the third line would sweep the kings of the East from existence, annihilating the soldiers the Amurru and Amorites had softened with their valor. Or at least, with their bodies.

  I had time to speak with several Amurru slingers. They were shocked I knew their tongue, and spoke freely with me, man to man now that I had no stench of enslavement upon me. They had normal smooth stones, and special heavy lead balls. The latter were meant to smash shields and crumple helmets. Again, because of cost, the slingers didn’t have many of those.

  The king had us eat and drink in place. We knew the enemy was near.

  Perhaps an hour later, scouts shouted a warning.

  Many of us rose and looked up.

  The army of the kings of the East approached on and along the Trade Road that went north and south. We couldn’t see them, but we saw a massive billowing dust-cloud approaching. It had simply grown and now advanced swiftly toward us.

  What did that mean?

  I noted that many of the Amurru and young Amorites shifted uneasily on the skirmishing line. The older Amorites were better at hiding their apprehension.

  A broad plain separated us from the approaching dirt-cloud. There were hills and gullies to our left and a marsh far to the right.

  “Look!” a giant roared. “They seek to trick us.”

  I looked, as did everyone else. What I saw surprised me.

  Mules raced out of the dust cloud. They had large branches tied behind them and were driven by runners. The branches had stirred and thrown up the dust.

  Did the enemy mean to hide the army from us until the last minute? Why raise such a dust cloud days ago then? Had the cloud meant to hide the main host from our scouts?

  These actions bewildered us. We already knew the composition of the enemy host due to the Zuzim giants among us. But perhaps the enemy commanders didn’t know that.

  The enemy runners drove the mules to the sides. Others stopped the beasts of burden, divesting them of the branches, which they tossed in heaps. The runners then drove the freed mules around an approaching host of marching spearmen.

  We all watched the performance. The spearmen—their numbers made my gut clench. Out of the settling dust they came, serried ranks, holding great rectangular shields. If I were to guess, the shields were constructed of stout wood and were brightly painted. The most troubling aspect was how they marched in unison. I’d never seen so many men move as one.

  “Phalanx,” Kron said. “They’re a phalanx.”

  In Athens, my father and uncles fought with the champions in front, more of a wild melee as the warriors with their eight-shaped shields roared and smote at each other. They did not wait in back, as the giants did here.

  I understood the Emim king’s cunning, however. They’d use the freed slaves, Amurru and Amorites—lesser men—to take the brunt of the enemy attack. Battle was exhausting as a man used all his might to slay and stay alive.

  After pelting the foe with sling stones, raining javelins and thrusting spears down upon them, the giants would wade in against a weary enemy. Seventy-three giants would roar and charge, with their chosen retainers around them. It would be a massacre. Kron and the king had instilled in us that belief.

  How else could we think, seeing seventy-three giants and their glittering arms and armor?

  I had my first doubts as I watched the serried ranks of enemy spearmen. The line grew and stretched across the plain. Behind followed more in close order. The rows of spear tips shimmered in the sunlight, bristling like some great hedgehog.