not cast me aside.”
My heart broke for him.
“Never,” I said. “I will never leave you.”
“Swear it to me.”
“I swear it.”
For how could I forsake what I loved?
A single tone drifted through the sky above us. A pure and gentle note, piercing the still air with perfect clarity.
I glanced up at the red cliff that rose thirty yards to its crest. There, on the precipice, stood Talya, stripped of his tunic, wearing only his loincloth. His arms were spread down by his thin thighs, and he faced the horizon with eyes closed.
My little lamb was singing. Long, beautiful tones that were at once haunting and full of wonder.
He’d found his way up the dunes and climbed to the top from behind, and for a moment I worried that he might slip and fall. But his song stilled my heart and then filled me with a strange sense of amazement.
A lump gathered in my throat and the air became difficult to breathe. Saba slowly rose to his feet, staring up at his little apprentice. I thought to join him, but I dared not move, fearing I might break the song.
The wind had stilled. The camels did not move.
Still he sang, in pure and unbroken notes that swept away all of my fear.
As though requiring no breath, Talya’s high notes cut through the desert air. Tears misted my sight. A tremble came to my fingers. Talya was in another world, I thought. My young son was seeing into another realm.
Talya, my dear Talya! How beautiful you are!
Only then did his last note fade. The desert went quiet.
Talya opened his eyes and stared ahead as though mesmerized by the horizon. His mouth parted and broke into a smile. Then he looked down at me.
“A garden, Mother!” he said. “There is a garden called Eden.”
Eden …A paradise of delight.
This was the eternal realm called heaven on earth?
Talya snatched up his tunic, spun around, and disappeared from the edge to climb back down and join us.
“He sees,” Saba whispered, still staring up at the cliff. He shifted his astonished gaze to me.
There was no such amazement in Judah’s eyes. They remained in the darkness of the dungeons that had held him captive so long.
But this would change. Yeshua had come to set the captives free from their blindness.
I would take him to Yeshua.
I would take him the very next day.
Chapter Seven
JUDAH STARED at the man who stood at the entrance to Maviah’s tent having made his plea before Fahak, Saba, and their queen.
Maliku, the betrayer of them all.
The one who might even betray the Thamud.
As promised, Maliku had brought the camels and the food as well as Saman’s coin. Compensation for the people’s suffering had been promised and delivered. Fully emboldened and triumphant, Maviah’s men had retrieved the swords they’d placed in a cache. The surrender of weapons made little sense to Judah.
Distant cries of victory and excitement filled the valley. The women were busily preparing for celebration.
But Maviah was wary. She was their mother as much as their queen, Judah thought.
The sheikh Fahak sat on a white camel hide in her tent while she stood over him. The unprecedented sight attested to the honor she’d earned among the Bedu. Had he not always known she would be queen?
How beautiful she was! How majestic the movement of her hands and her mouth and her every step. Her blue shawl fell to her waist over a white dress. Leather bracelets accented with red twine were fastened about her wrists and forearms. A necklace with a single round pendant carved from green marble rested upon her breastbone.
How stunning were her brown eyes, like windows into another world. How commanding was the curve of her soft lips beneath high cheekbones. Though in a simple Bedu tent, she stood as a bronzed sculpture in the courts of Petra. How utterly intoxicating, this queen of the desert!
His queen.
To her right, an oil lamp and a bowl filled with ghada fruit sat upon a chest. Her sword and dagger rested against the chest. Propped against the wall
My heart broke for him.
“Never,” I said. “I will never leave you.”
“Swear it to me.”
“I swear it.”
For how could I forsake what I loved?
A single tone drifted through the sky above us. A pure and gentle note, piercing the still air with perfect clarity.
I glanced up at the red cliff that rose thirty yards to its crest. There, on the precipice, stood Talya, stripped of his tunic, wearing only his loincloth. His arms were spread down by his thin thighs, and he faced the horizon with eyes closed.
My little lamb was singing. Long, beautiful tones that were at once haunting and full of wonder.
He’d found his way up the dunes and climbed to the top from behind, and for a moment I worried that he might slip and fall. But his song stilled my heart and then filled me with a strange sense of amazement.
A lump gathered in my throat and the air became difficult to breathe. Saba slowly rose to his feet, staring up at his little apprentice. I thought to join him, but I dared not move, fearing I might break the song.
The wind had stilled. The camels did not move.
Still he sang, in pure and unbroken notes that swept away all of my fear.
As though requiring no breath, Talya’s high notes cut through the desert air. Tears misted my sight. A tremble came to my fingers. Talya was in another world, I thought. My young son was seeing into another realm.
Talya, my dear Talya! How beautiful you are!
Only then did his last note fade. The desert went quiet.
Talya opened his eyes and stared ahead as though mesmerized by the horizon. His mouth parted and broke into a smile. Then he looked down at me.
“A garden, Mother!” he said. “There is a garden called Eden.”
Eden …A paradise of delight.
This was the eternal realm called heaven on earth?
Talya snatched up his tunic, spun around, and disappeared from the edge to climb back down and join us.
“He sees,” Saba whispered, still staring up at the cliff. He shifted his astonished gaze to me.
There was no such amazement in Judah’s eyes. They remained in the darkness of the dungeons that had held him captive so long.
But this would change. Yeshua had come to set the captives free from their blindness.
I would take him to Yeshua.
I would take him the very next day.
Chapter Seven
JUDAH STARED at the man who stood at the entrance to Maviah’s tent having made his plea before Fahak, Saba, and their queen.
Maliku, the betrayer of them all.
The one who might even betray the Thamud.
As promised, Maliku had brought the camels and the food as well as Saman’s coin. Compensation for the people’s suffering had been promised and delivered. Fully emboldened and triumphant, Maviah’s men had retrieved the swords they’d placed in a cache. The surrender of weapons made little sense to Judah.
Distant cries of victory and excitement filled the valley. The women were busily preparing for celebration.
But Maviah was wary. She was their mother as much as their queen, Judah thought.
The sheikh Fahak sat on a white camel hide in her tent while she stood over him. The unprecedented sight attested to the honor she’d earned among the Bedu. Had he not always known she would be queen?
How beautiful she was! How majestic the movement of her hands and her mouth and her every step. Her blue shawl fell to her waist over a white dress. Leather bracelets accented with red twine were fastened about her wrists and forearms. A necklace with a single round pendant carved from green marble rested upon her breastbone.
How stunning were her brown eyes, like windows into another world. How commanding was the curve of her soft lips beneath high cheekbones. Though in a simple Bedu tent, she stood as a bronzed sculpture in the courts of Petra. How utterly intoxicating, this queen of the desert!
His queen.
To her right, an oil lamp and a bowl filled with ghada fruit sat upon a chest. Her sword and dagger rested against the chest. Propped against the wall
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