Warring Desires (The Herod Chronicles Book 3) by Thomas Wanda Ann

Author:Thomas, Wanda Ann [Thomas, Wanda Ann]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2015-10-21T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

Three weeks after leaving Jerusalem, Gabriel gripped the hilt of his sword and forced his mind to concentrate on Nathan’s instructions rather than the hulking Galilean fortress targeted for attack.

The swirling snow was another distraction. The freakish storm had blown in while they set up camp, and showed no signs of abating. Gusts of wind and brief whiteout conditions compounded the anticipation and dread hammering inside Gabriel.

Knee-deep in snow, Nathan once again demonstrated the proper method for using a shield for defense while striking out against the enemy with a sword.

Leonidas nudged Gabriel. “How long do you think it would take to learn to be an archer?”

Gabriel stared up at the gray stone ramparts. Soldiers with curved bows hunkered behind the walls, and his shoulders tightened. “A few weeks of battle training doesn’t feel adequate.”

Leonidas shrugged. “It’s not as if you can practice killing people.”

Gabriel laughed despite the grim nature of their mission. “Good point. Still...”

Leonidas leaned closer. “I’m worried I will vomit or wet my loincloth the first time I strike a man with my sword.”

“You too?”

“What I can’t explain is why I’m excited...like I’m attending a wedding or a feast instead of going to war. It’s indecent.” Leonidas shoved his fingers through his unruly hair. “What if I enjoy killing?”

“Joining Herod’s army has given me plenty of doubts,” Gabriel confessed, wondering if he hadn’t made the biggest mistake of his life. He was an aristocrat and a priest. Spilling the blood of lambs and bulls was a far cry from running a sword through a man. His friends, after a day spent reading the scriptures and prayer, would be leaving the serene confines of synagogue about now, while he stood knee-deep in snow, readying to scale the walls of an armed fortress. Mother of mercy, I must be insane.

Nathan barged his way between Gabriel and Leonidas. Broad of shoulder and thick-necked, his warrior eyes glowed with fierceness. Called the Angel of Death behind his back by the veteran soldiers, his legendary valor was spoken of in hushed tones around blazing campfires. He knocked his booted toe against the shield resting at Gabriel’s feet. “What did I tell you was the most important thing to remember when entering battle?”

Gabriel straightened. “Act. Don’t think.”

“Hesitate and you will be dead,” Leonidas echoed.

Nathan gave a curt nod. “You have to want to kill the enemy more than he wants to kill you. There’s no good or bad about it.”

“Olive farmer!” Herod called, marching down the line. “I want you along while I confer with my commanders.”

Commander Obodas, a veteran soldier from Idumea, whose neck was as thick as Gabriel’s thigh, stopped and grinned at Nathan. “Feels like old times.”

Nathan smiled. “The king looks like he’s eaten bad dates every time he says my name.”

Gabriel was just a youth when Herod marched on Jerusalem with an army and Nathan had ridden out to stop him. Gabriel didn’t know the particulars, only that Herod and Nathan hadn’t spoken in years.

Commander Obodas shrugged. “He hates consulting with you, but he detests the thought of losing a battle even more.

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