Covenant of War (23 page)

In the Elah Valley, a huge warrior stepped out of the ranks, and the others backed away. It was one of the champions that Eleazar had seen gathering in the valley. He had broad shoulders and arms the size of trees, taller than any other soldier by a head. Eleazar had no time to catch his breath before the giant was rushing at him.

He pulled at his fingers to break their grip on the hilt so he could get another weapon for his right hand. They remained frozen, and the shattered sword stayed in his hand. Tired and confused, he could not understand why the sword was not falling out of his hand. The warrior threw Eleazar to the ground and raised a spear.

Eleazar rolled to his left, yelling, swinging his blade across the giant’s knee guards harmlessly as the spear hit the dirt next to him. The Philistine giant stabbed with the spear again, hitting Eleazar’s broken sword as he held it up to block.

Need the covering!

Why weren’t the others charging him while he was down? Even the giant balked momentarily, staring over Eleazar’s head at something.
Eleazar saw his opportunity and shoved his broken sword forward. The jagged tip cut into the giant’s thigh. Eleazar twisted the blade, feeling the muscles shred. The warrior knelt, grabbing at the wound.

Energy came again. Eleazar rolled to his feet, yelled furiously, and sliced the blade across the only exposed part of the giant’s neck, buried under layers of armor. The giant fell.

Eleazar heard the sound of more swords clanking and breaking as the battle continued. But with who? Who else were they fighting? The giant had paused to stare at something just before Eleazar had stabbed him. What had he seen?

Eleazar’s eyes were blurry. He wished he could look behind him, but the threat was in front. He crawled to his knees to be ready for the next attack.

But the others were running in terror.

David crested the bank. He felt the end of his strength coming and coughed out a song of praise to his God for renewal. He kept running forward, ignoring the awful pain in his throat and weakness in his bones.

Finally, Eleazar came back into view. David was overjoyed. He was still alive, and the enemy was fleeing!

But who was that with him?

There were but two Philistines left, the rest having fled when they realized that swords, spears, and javelins would never bring down the foe they faced this day. The dozen remaining Philistines had stepped back from the Hebrew demon with the fiery strike, shouted
to their god Dagon, and spat in the dust before running toward the entrance to the pass to escape the counterattack that might come from the Hebrew Lion.

Eleazar, his fingers still rigidly wrapped around the hilt of the broken sword, took short, quivering breaths. His throat was so dry it choked him. The missing fingernails and the spots where blades had found flesh were numb, but he knew they would hurt later. Hurt badly.

Eleazar was kneeling, his legs too tired to stand, but he was ready, and spoke to the Philistines standing in front of him in their tongue.

“When you are ready.”

Hearing the challenge in his own language, the foot soldier lost heart and sprinted after his comrades, but the other, a commander by the design of his helmet, held his sword at eye level and continued watching something behind Eleazar, an amulet dangling from his free hand. Eleazar recognized him as the Philistine officer he had spared at the chariot.

“Tell me why you spared me,” the Philistine said, as though thinking the same thing, his eyes darting over Eleazar’s shoulder every few seconds. His face was covered in blood, his nose broken, and his jaw was swollen and distorted.

Eleazar chuckled, wiped his dirty lips on the back of his hand, and spat. “I won’t do it again, if that is what you are asking.”

“What sorcery do you use?”

“No sorcery. Our God is powerful.”

The Philistine’s mouth twitched as though he was about to reply, but he just stood holding the sword up. They glared at each other.

The Philistine finally lowered the tip of his sword into the churned-up dirt and rested his weight on it. Eleazar saw him take several deep breaths and glance around the field. Whatever the man had been nervously watching was gone.

Careful to not draw attention from the Philistine, Eleazar
resumed trying to move his fingers. They were as solid as limestone. His knuckles were pure white and there was no blood left in the muscles of his hand to move them with.

They heard rumbling, and Eleazar and the Philistine turned toward the other side of the valley. The companies of Hebrews who had abandoned Eleazar and David in the fight were rushing up the slope from the creek bed. They crossed the lines of destroyed chariots and some broke off to find water pouches and weapons from the soldiers. David was in front of them.

The Philistine looked at Eleazar one more time, nodded his head slightly, and knelt while leaning on his weapon to wait.

“I will stay with you,” he said.

“Why?”

“My own people will kill me after today’s loss. I would rather go to the afterlife killing Hebrews than being executed by my own army.”

“Then try to kill me now.”

“You spared me. I am honor bound to do the same with you. I will wait for your men.” He looked up over Eleazar’s head again. “And you have sorcery that I don’t know.”

Eleazar watched him curiously, but then let his head fall against the earth, beyond exhausted.

The broken, blood-covered sword was still firm in his hand. He wondered if it would always be there, wondered if he would have to take it to bed with his wife when he returned, wondered whether it would frighten his daughters.

He laughed, wiping away sweat. Dust gathered in the corners of his eyes was burning. Or was it blood? And who was this Philistine that Yahweh wanted to be spared? He did not know.

All he knew was that his courage had held.

Ittai couldn’t stop himself from searching the sky overhead, where the demon warrior had disappeared after defending the Hebrew.

Then he stood back up and readied himself for the first few Hebrews. They were charging madly, unskilled. Ittai avoided all of their strikes and managed to stab one of them while tripping the other. He buried the blade between the shoulders of the man who fell. Another Hebrew came at him and died by another strike.

He yelled and jerked his weapon free. He challenged them, hating their sorcery, confused and despairing that he had been abandoned by his patron god. He killed another Hebrew, then another, a young one. He smashed the boy’s face and felt teeth breaking beneath his fist. It felt so good that he tackled the boy to the ground and kept pounding his teeth and jaw into mush. Blood sprayed and spurted, and he punched and punched again with all of his remaining strength, wanting to butcher the boy.

Then Ittai’s vision was shot through with white streaks as something solid struck his skull from behind, and all was black, and he was swimming in the sea again, the figure of Dagon lurking below him in the darkness, circling him like a predator. He heard the throbbing waves overhead and the raging storm. He beseeched the god with every incantation he knew. He was losing sight of the scales in the water as the black and green colors of the raging sea swirled.

He reached out to the god for help, but none came. He saw the sneer on the hideous face. His heart lurched in despair as he watched the god slowly sink farther beneath the murky waves; then it all faded.

When David reached him, Eleazar was crumpled in a heap in the center of the field. He feared that Eleazar was dead, killed by the Philistine. Hebrew soldiers were about to impale the Philistine with
a spear when Eleazar raised his arm and shouted, “Stop! He is their commander!”

They were going to ignore him and kill the Philistine anyway when David shouted, “Don’t kill him! I want information from him.”

“Lord, he just killed our men —”

David raised his sling up. Terrified, they relented.

David collapsed next to his friend in relief. “Thought you were gone,” he said, panting.

“Should be.”

“Who was that with you?”

Eleazar looked at him questioningly. “There was someone with me?”

David looked at the sky. “Bless you for your covering, Lord.” Then he grinned at Eleazar. “Yahweh protects us this day, my friend.”

Eleazar closed his eyes.

Praise your name. You held the ground
.

David turned to two of the Hebrew soldiers. “Bring the Philistine back to the cave. If anything happens to him, you will greet the two commanders I killed earlier in Sheol.”

David pulled Eleazar along the side of the mountain. Men stepped forward to give assistance, but he shook them off. He would personally carry this warrior all the way back to Hebron if he had to, but he first wanted to get farther down the valley to be ready to engage the Philistines again. They would need to be chased out of the valley entirely and their idols destroyed.

“Where is the runner?” he called out to no one in particular.

“He was sent half an hour ago, lord king,” said one of the bodyguards who had just arrived from the caves.

“Keep sending them. I need to know what is happening on the Bethlehem road.”

Eleazar buckled next to him. Despite his own weariness, David caught him, but they fell together. He saw that Eleazar was in no condition to reengage anything at all; the last of his strength had been used in the field.

“My friend, these men will help you back to the cave.”

“I will kill any man who drags me there,” Eleazar rasped.

David shook his head, torn between frustration and gratitude for the courage of his warriors. He whispered thanks to Yahweh for these stubborn fools. “What if I ordered you?”

“I will go if you take a drink of water.”

“Yahweh spare me from this.” David tried to stand up straight. Exhaustion suddenly struck him like the midday sun and he could not do it. His bodyguards reached for him but he slapped them away. “Help Eleazar; I am fine. Take him back to the cave.”

The Gittite mercenary pulled back and eyed Eleazar warily.

Eleazar held up the broken sword clenched in his wrist. “Touch me, and I will cut off both your hands and hang them around my neck.”

The Gittite glanced back at David.

“He is not your king. I am. Obey my word,” David said.

“Drink water and I will go back to Adullam,” Eleazar muttered.

As if on cue, three mercenaries of the bodyguard ripped open their own paltry water bags and thrust them toward him, offering the last of their rations. David stared at them. Even the Philistine mercenaries were willing to sacrifice their last ration for him. For what? What had he done to deserve any of this? Besides cowering behind palace walls and filling his bed with women? He spat, disgusted with himself. He shook his head.

“You slept after we did, you ate after we did, and you drank after we did,” Eleazar said, discerning his thoughts.

“Not in many years, my friend.”

Eleazar shrugged. “That does not matter. We will never forget it.”

“Lord king, please!” the Gittites urged.

David shook his head again. He wanted to weep; he was so unworthy of such an offer.

Someone called out and they looked up. Around the bend in the valley, the remnants of the Thirty appeared. The Hebrew soldiers cheered when they saw them. David picked out Benaiah, Josheb, and the other familiar faces that were so dear to him.

Somehow, his brave and loyal soldiers had held off the Sword of Dagon, and he gave thanks to Yahweh for it.

But when they got closer, there was no triumph on their faces. Josheb, Benaiah, Keth, and Gareb were the first to reach him.

“How many lost?” David asked.

“Four.”

Josheb quietly gave the report of the battle. When he was finished, David walked to a tree and leaned against it, his back to the other warriors.
Lord God, thank you for the victory. The cost is great, but so is the victory
.

He let his head sag for a while. Then he turned and looked at his men. “We will mourn them later. The day is not over yet.”

No one moved.

“I promise, I won’t stand in the back of any battle, and I will never send men to their deaths without reason.”

“What reason was there to attack that force on the road?” The question came from one of the quiet warriors of the Thirty, a man named Zalmon the Ahohite. David knew him to be a brave fighter. David had just learned that his friend, Eliphelet, was one of the Thirty who had died in the forest.

“They cannot take Jebus from us,” David answered gently.

Zalmon kept his tone respectful, but there was deep hurt in his eyes. “There are other cities, lord.”

“There are. But we need to stop them from taking that one.”

Zalmon bowed his head in acquiescence, but he did not look at David.

David walked over to and lifted his head up. “Did he have a wife and children?”

Zalmon nodded.

“Then I will take care of them myself. Any who falls among the Thirty will have his family provided for until they are dead. My vow.” David raised his sword over his head. “This place will be
called Baal-perazim, because Yahweh has burst through our enemies like a flood!”

Then, to everyone’s shock, he collapsed.

Eleazar shrugged off the assistance and stumbled to where Benaiah, Keth, and Gareb were standing over David. Pain stabbed under his arm. Must have been a stray blade swipe, he thought. Would need to get it treated.

The king was limp — flecks of white saliva covering his beard — but conscious.

“Don’t frighten us like that,” Benaiah said.

David squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Oh, what I would give for a drink of the cool Bethlehem water.”

Benaiah placed the tip of a water satchel into the king’s mouth, and David almost took it before realizing what it was and spitting it out. The soldiers gathered around gasped.

“You have to drink this!” Benaiah said, exasperated.

“How … many water pouches … were recovered?” David said between gasps.

“A few dozen. The Philistines slit most of their bags open when they were dying to make sure we didn’t get any. Only enough for one or two sips for each man until we can find water.”

“Then give it to the injured,” David said, gesturing toward the rows of wounded soldiers who were screaming ever louder.

“You are one of those injured, lord,” Gareb said.

David waved his hand to end further discussion. Benaiah tossed the water pouch to a soldier who then carried it to the rows of wounded.

“Why has Yahweh cursed us with no water anywhere?” Benaiah complained loudly.

“Yahweh has given us a mighty victory today! Be grateful!” The strength in David’s voice surprised everyone. “You four help get everyone moving back to the cave. We need to prepare for their next attack. It could come any day. There are still other regiments on the plains and more soldiers at the garrison in Bethlehem. That might not have been all of the Sword of Dagon soldiers.”

When David said the word “Bethlehem,” his voice cracked with longing, and Eleazar imagined that if he could have produced it, a tear would have fallen. Such was the power of the memory of his hometown.

The four of them bowed, and Benaiah, Gareb, and Keth helped Eleazar toward the center of the field as several troops obeyed David’s orders to help him up. They watched as the king staggered to where Josheb and other members of the Thirty were discussing their withdrawal.

“I know what the men need to see to rally them,” Eleazar said.

“What?” asked Benaiah.

Eleazar looked at David again.

Then he told them.