A Man Called Blessed by Ted Dekker & Bill Bright

Author:Ted Dekker & Bill Bright
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9781401688790
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2013-05-13T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

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Ismael gazed through his binoculars at the large outcropping of boulders the tracker called Manessa. They had made good time through the day's heat, thanks to the water they carried. Now the sun sat on the horizon behind him like a large orange, spreading fingers of red across the western sky in a brilliant sunset.

The white tents at the base of the rocks were unmistakable.

"They're here!" he said. His heart pounded steadily and a tremor took to his hands. "The camp is here." He lowered his glasses and snatched up his AK-47.

"Nothing lives. Do you hear me? We kill every animal and every man and every child—

everything! And every tent burns. We go in hard and smother them before they know what's hit them."

"Yes, sir." The captain was already checking his weapon.

"Horses only. Leave the tracker with the Jeeps. Weapons on automatic."

Ismael stepped into the stirrup, mounted his horse, and yanked the bit tight in its mouth. It was a fresh mount, and he didn't have time for the black stallion to question his authority. The horse's eyes spread wide and it backed up, snorting. The others mounted. They were two kilometers from the camp.

Eleven horses now stood abreast—the ten Republican Guard and Ismael. He nudged his horse

and they trotted forward, maintaining their file. Whatever else these men were, they were excellent horsemen. Ismael had no doubt they would shoot as well as they rode. His father had sent the best.

The plan to take Caleb by force wasn't really a plan at all. The tribe didn't have a defensive bone in their bodies. She would just take him and head due west, with or without the tribe's help.

Eventually they would run into territory that Caleb recognized. Rebecca was only waiting for the sun to remove its heat.

She made her way around the rocks and climbed to the perch where she'd hidden her weapons and gear. She pulled out a leather saddle pack and flipped the flap up. Thirty seconds later she was dressed in the khakis, the Glock loaded and holstered. She gripped the rifle, hoisted the bag over her shoulder, and turned to leave. An orange sun glowed on the horizon. In twenty minutes it would be dark, and she would be riding her camel west with Caleb in tow.

She glanced at the camp below. The monks loitered about, at peace with the ending of yet one more day. A nuclear bomb could go off in London or New York or Tel Aviv and these people

might never even hear about it. In some ways she coveted the simple lives they led. In other ways she pitied . . .

Something caught the corner of her eye and she turned slowly to the desert. What she saw

stopped her heart. A line was moving towards them, black against the shimmering heat rising through the sunset, like a row of ants.

Rebecca instinctively jerked down, into cover.

Eleven dark horses marched towards them out of the red sky, in even step.

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