THE THORN
Book One
The Chronicles of Gan
by
Daron Fraley
SMASHWORDS EDITION
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Daron Fraley on Smashwords
The Thorn
Copyright © 2010 by Daron Fraley
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
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* * * * *
For Jennifer, my dear wife,
and Ashley, Deven, Isabelle,
Audrey, Emily, Aaron,
Abigail, and Jonathan.
I love you all.
* * * * *
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to offer my sincere appreciation for the tutoring and friendship of these publishing professionals, authors, writers, and bloggers. I could not have done this without you: Tristi Pinkston, BJ Rowley, Danyelle Ferguson, Abel Keogh, Gordon Ryan, Michele Ashman Bell, Marion Jensen, Kerry Blair, L.T. Elliot, James Dashner, Josi S. Kilpack, J. Scott Savage, Jaime Theler, Wendy Elliott, John Ferguson, David J. West, Jeff Olsen, Ali Cross, Graham Bradley, Heather Moore, and every other person who ever commented on my blog. Some of these folks may brush this acknowledgement off, saying, “I didn’t do anything.” Yes, you did—if nothing else, you were kind.
And to my friends and family who were my very first readers of The Thorn, I thank you: Jennifer Fraley, Ashley Bugger, Audrey Fraley, Stefanie and David Fresques, Christie Hardey, Caroline and Randy Booth, Eric Schroeder, Monty Thornock, Jessica McAdams, Sherrie Foist, and Jim Kinkade.
Daron D. Fraley
GLOSSARY
PLACES
“Definition”
Location
Ain
“Fountain”
Southwestern borders of lands of Daniel
Bethara
“House of Gathering”
Lands of Gideon
Bezek
“Lightning”
Lands of Gideon
Gan
“Garden”
The world or planet upon which the three tribes live
Geber
“Hill” or “Mount” or “Strong”
Between Saron and Ain
Gilad
“Hill of Testimony”
Lands of Gideon, southeast of Ain
Hara
“Hill” or “Showing Forth”
Mountains north of Saron, surrounding Ramathaim
Hasor
“Enclosed Village
In the hills south of Ramathaim
Karmel
“Vineyard”
In the plains north of the Hara Mountains
Maharai
“Hasting” or “From a Hill”
Lands of Gideon
Ramathaim
“Place of Hills” or “Mountains”
Nestled in the Hara Mountain borders
Saron
“Plain”
In the plains west of Hasor, north of Ain
TRIBES
DANIEL
“A judge (is) God”
Mark: A red snake in white circle, generally on a purple background (chosen because of its relationship with the Savior).
Representative colors: Purple and white.
GIDEON
“Warrior”
Mark: A black raven with sprig of berries in its beak (chosen because a raven once fed Gideon when starving, after his prayer).
Representative colors: Green and white.
UZZAH
“Strength”
Mark: A strong ox (chosen because of its symbol for hard work, and as a symbol of sacrifice).
Representative colors: Blue and white.
PEOPLE
“Definition”
Tribe
Occupation/Notes
Abigail
“Her Father is Joyful”
Gideon
Wife of Jasher
Abram
“High Father”
Uzzah
Uzzahite Warrior
Amon
“Faithful” or “True”
Gideon
Gideonite Captain
Asah
“Physician”
Daniel-Uzzah
Uzziel’s Steward
Azmaveth
“Strength in Death”
Gideon
Gideonite Captain
Benjamin
“Son of the Right Hand”
Daniel-Uzzah
Danielite Soldier
Boaz
“In Strength”
Daniel-Uzzah
Temple Priest
Daniel
“Judgment of God” or “God is my Judge”
Daniel
Father of the Tribe
Daniel
“Judgment of God” or “God is my Judge”
Uzzah
Boy Soldier
Deborah
“Word, thing” or “A Bee”
Uzzah
Sister of Miriam
Dinah
“Judgment”
Gideon
Mother of Jasher
Eder
“A Flock, or Herd”
Gideon
Goat Herder
Eli
“My God” or “Lifted Up” or “Offering”
Uzzah
Temple Priest, Warrior
Esther
“Secret, hidden”
Uzzah
Wife of Abram
Ezra
“Help, court”
Daniel
Danielite Captain
Gad
“A Band, Troop”
Gideon
Gideonite Captain
Gideon
“He that Bruises” or “Destroyer, Warrior”
Gideon
Father of the Tribe
Ilan
“Tree”
Gideon
Gideonite Soldier
Izri
“Fasting” or “Tribulation”
Gideon
Gideonite Soldier
Jael
“He that Ascends” or “A Kid”
Gideon-Uzzah
Gideonite Captain
Jasher
“Righteous” or “Upright”
Gideon
Gideonite General
Jeremy
“God will Uplift” or “Loosen Bonds”
Uzzah
Uzzahite Warrior/Captain
Jonathan
“Given of God” or “Jehovah has Given”
Daniel
Heir of Daniel
Josiah
“Fire of the Lord”
Uzzah
Uzzahite Warrior
Kalev
“Heart, Brave”
Gideon
Gideonite Soldier
Levi
“Associated/Joined” or “My Heart”
Daniel
Inventor, Counselor
Manasseh
“To Forget” or “He that is Forgotten”
Gideon
Gideonite Emperor
Mehida
“A Riddle” or “Sharpness of Wit”
Gideon
Gideonite Captain
Miriam
“Rebellion” or “Sea of Bitterness/Sorrow”
Uzzah
Wife of Uzziel
Noah
“Rest, Quiet, Peace”
Father of Tribes
First Man of Gan
Pekah
“One Whose Eyes are Opened”
Gideon
Gideonite Soldier
Rachel
“Ewe, Lamb, Sheep”
Uzzah
Daughter of Uzziel
Rachel
“Ewe, lamb, sheep”
Daniel
Late wife of Samuel
Rezon
“Prince” or “Lean, Small” or “Secret”
Gideon-Daniel
Gideonite General
Sachar
“Price” or “Reward” or “Recompense”
Gideon
Gideonite Captain
Samuel
“Heard of God” or “Asked of God”
Daniel
Danielite Judge/King
Sarah
“Lady or Princess of the Multitude”
Mother of Tribes
Wife of Noah
Sarah
“Lady or Princess of the Multitude”
Daniel-Uzzah
Wife of Tavor
Saul
“Demanded” or “Asked for”
Daniel
Danielite
Serug
“Branch, Layer”
Gideon
Gideonite Physician
Simeon
“That Hears” or “Obeys, That Obeys”
Daniel
Danielite Soldier
Sodi
“My Secret”
Gideon
Gideonite Soldier
Tavor
“Break, Fracture, Misfortune” or “Choice”
Uzzah
Uzzahite Warrior
Uzzah
“Strength”
Uzzah
Father of the Tribe
Uzzah
“Strength”
Uzzah
Lost son of Uzziel
Uzziel
“Strength of God”
Uzzah
Uzzahite High Priest
Zev
“Wolf”
Gideon
Gideonite Soldier
* * * * *
THE THORN
* * * * *
“Again, I did prophesy to my sons, saying: And in that day when the three brothers make war with one another, and a great evil arises in the land which threatens to destroy all peoples, the Holy One shall be born upon the footstool of his creations, and the sign of his coming shall be given in the heavens. But upon Gan, he shall not be born, for upon the footstool of his creations he shall perform his great work to save all his peoples, and then shall he visit his kingdoms, which are many, each one in its hour, and in its time, and in its season, beginning at the first and so on unto the last, until every servant beholds the joy of the King’s countenance. And when he comes, a rod shall be his scepter, and light shall be his sword. And the King shall rule in righteousness.”
— Writings of Noah, First Man of Gan, Father of Nations
“I have searched the writings of my fathers. I am now convinced. Even though it appears that the span of our time has been much shorter, at least three thousand years less, this I still know: Gan was created first. And Gan was a garden, long before it was peopled. Noah wrote it.
“We do not know the name of the world where the Holy One will be born, but his world is not far away. Or at least it does not feel far away. Perhaps mine eyes have even seen the place where it rolls upon its wings in the heavens. But no matter where it lies among the stars, I am amazed at both the similarities and the differences between our two worlds. I have seen his time. He stands under a single yellow sun which is close to his world, hot and bright. And yet that sun does not overshadow him. He shines brighter than all creation. I have seen his face. I yearn for the day when I can look upon his countenance. Here, upon Gan. As he rules as my King.”
— Journal of Samuel, Chief Judge and King of Daniel
* * * * *
Chapter 1
Clamor
Another rumble of thunder, this one closer than the last, caused the final bird near the garden fountain to take flight. Without rustling a single leaf, the bird skimmed past a pruned olive tree and glided across the wheatfield to disappear in the direction of the forest beyond. The warm afternoon rain fell more steadily. Each head of wheat, laden with moisture, drooped closer to the ground. A gentle and constant breeze made the stalks sway back and forth. From the olive garden, the grain had the appearance of misty, swirling water. Other than the sound of rain and the damp rustle of wheat, the field was very still.
A Danielite soldier watched from atop the southwest garden tower. He noticed the birds leaving and sensed the unnatural quiet that settled around him. With one hand on the pommel of his sword, he scanned the field for any sign of movement. He reached up to brush a trickle of sweat from his brow.
Where did all the birds go?
He opened the brown leather case of his spyglass and placed the sight to his eye. Seeing nothing in the field, he trained his eye on the edge of the trees. With intense scrutiny, he searched the wooded border, running his sight from right to left and left to right. He waited for even a single branch to be disturbed.
Must be the thunder. He collapsed the spyglass. The flap on the leather case snapped when he shut it. In his peripheral vision, he noticed a bush straighten.
Did that branch just move? He again yanked the spyglass from its case and zoomed in on the suspicious vegetation. A sharp, fast whistle from the direction of the bush was all the guard heard. Clutching an arrow in his chest, he fell across the tower bench with a thud.
From the far side of the garden, another guard noticed that the southwestern tower was unmanned. Startled, he scanned the fields beyond the garden, where he saw a line of fifty archers step out from the edge of the trees and onto the dirt path which led to the walled village. With shaking hands, the guard clutched a mallet and struck the tower bell as hard as he could. The bell rang out loud and uneven as it quivered from the force of the blow. Even above the sound of the nearby bell, the guard could hear the advancing army in the wheatfield respond to the alarm with a deafening war cry. He turned to see them joined by more than three hundred men armed with swords. Each wore a breastplate emblazoned with a black raven.
“Gideonites!” he breathed, almost as if it were a curse.
A standard-bearer whipped a flag back and forth in the air. It bore an image of the twin blue suns Aqua and Azure. This signal drew another large group of soldiers from the trees, carrying a massive, capped pole, fitted with rope handles.
The guard jerked around. Below him in the village courtyard, he witnessed the panic of women who grabbed children and raced for the nearest protected doorway. Almost falling in his haste, he slid down a ladder to join other men who poured out of every conceivable location. Together they rallied at the fortified garden gate and broke open a weapons stash. As reaching hands clamored for a blade to defend the fair village of Hasor, the tower guard helped the other soldiers provide every man with a weapon. Troop captains nearby yelled for more support.
The Danielite guard shuddered when the heavy, crushing sound of a ram against the tall wooden gate echoed through the village streets. In dismay, he cast his eyes in the direction of the Council Hall.
Chapter 2
Murder
Jonathan, you must leave now,” the old judge pleaded. “If you don’t, the Gideonites may suspect The Thorn is here!”
“Father, how can I go?” Jonathan retorted as he rested a tense hand on the pommel of his sword. “You and I both know they’re not here just for the scepter. My absence will only prolong this conflict.”
Samuel took a long breath. “Jonathan, I understand, but The Thorn must be kept safe. If found, the Gideonites will use it to demand the allegiance of all Three Brothers. Then they will replace the judgment seat with a throne, whereon will sit their wicked, self-proclaimed emperor. Manasseh wants to hold the scepter in his own fat hand. Ruling in Gideon does not satisfy the man. Like a drunk offered only water, he will never be satisfied. He wants to rule Gideon, Daniel, and Uzzah.”
Jonathan looked away, irritated by talk about the scepter and Manasseh’s lust for it. Only a fool would think the scepter could somehow bestow the right to rule all three tribes. The scepter is just a symbol.
He turned back and studied his father’s face. Lines of stress ran deep across Samuel’s brow. Jonathan knew the real reason for Samuel’s unspoken concern. Even though the Gideonites wanted to get their hands on The Thorn, they really wanted Jonathan.
“Father, they will find me eventually.”
“You must leave!” Samuel implored, ignoring Jonathan’s declaration.
Jonathan sighed. Still undecided, he pulled at his beard as he stared at his own dusty and worn boots. Should he run, or should he stay and fight? If he left, would lives be saved? Potential peril lay ahead with either choice.
Samuel exhaled heavily and stepped forward to place his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Please go. All will be well. The One Who Would Suffer will be with us.”
“My place is with you, Father.”
The old judge pointed to the back of the hall. “My most loyal guards wait at the door to protect me. I want you to be safe.”
Guilt filled Jonathan from head to toe. How can I leave? Am I a coward? He watched for reassurance in his father’s face. Samuel’s eyes were moist. Jonathan reached for his father, and Samuel pulled Jonathan into a firm embrace. They clung to each other for a moment. When Samuel released him, Jonathan noticed how his father studied him, as if they wouldn’t see each other for a very long time. Jonathan’s gaze fell to the ground as the old judge’s mouth began to quiver with emotion.
In a stern, yet gentle tone, Samuel again urged his son to leave. “Jonathan, I do not want them to find you.”
His father’s love pierced him to the very center. He looked up from his boots and saw the kindly face of the old judge through his own tear-blurred blue eyes. Then, in his heart, he felt a strong impression. It was that familiar inner voice he had heard so many times before, and it told him he should go quickly. Jonathan didn’t hesitate to follow the prompting. With nothing more than a tender, tear-filled smile to the old man and a squeeze of his hand, Jonathan grabbed his hooded cloak from the table and ran out the back door.
* * *
After closing the door to the palace hallway, three guards entered the room to take their places around the judge, steel blades exposed and ready. The clamor outside the Council Hall intensified.
Samuel attempted a calming smile for his protectors, but sat down on the judgment seat with a deep sigh. He unconsciously tapped the stone armrest as his eyes followed the line of windows high in the east wall. On account of the cloud cover, the afternoon light only cast dim shadows on the vaulted ceiling. The projected mood caused Samuel to wonder if it would be better if he also fled. He mumbled to himself, but his guards remained at attention. I must stay. I must try to convince the Gideonites.
The front doors burst open with such force that dust fell from the plastered timbers above him. He watched with horror as a contingent of kneeling archers on the porch killed his armed guards with a single volley. Five other soldiers wearing the Mark of the Raven stomped into the room, dragging between them a beaten and bloody palace guard. One of them slammed the doors shut while the rest of the soldiers dropped their captive to the floor in front of Samuel. The Danielite soldier appeared to be dead. Samuel realized the battle was now lost, and his left hand trembled.
The judge suppressed his anxiety by gripping the armrests of the judgment seat so hard, his knuckles hurt. He glared at one of the Gideonite soldiers, who seemed to be the troop captain. The tall, strong man wore polished leather armor and a large leather cap. Both the raven-emblazoned leather breastplate and the cap were lined at the edges with lamb’s wool, dyed red. Samuel’s face contorted in disgust. The wool had been purposely colored, not with dye, but with blood.
“Where is it?” the Gideonite leader barked while slapping the blade of his drawn sword against his thigh.
“You’re too late. The Thorn left with a caravan to the north countries five days ago.” Not very practiced at lying, Samuel sensed from the Gideonite’s facial expression that his ruse had not been convincing.
With upper lip curled, the captain leered at the judge, contempt seething from him. He yelled again, “Where is your son?”
“I told you. You are too late.”
Samuel sat stiff and upright in the seat, not daring to move his feet for fear the Gideonite might sense his nervousness. The soldier who had been dragged into the room groaned, and Samuel felt relief that he was still alive. He glanced down to see who the injured man was, but the guard faced away from him, and he couldn’t tell. Samuel looked back up at the enemy.
The captain’s eyes were devoid of any emotion, and his cold stare spooked the judge. Pulling back into the seat, Samuel tried to put some distance between them, even if it was only a hand’s breadth of space. Without warning, the captain kicked the fallen palace guard in the face with tremendous force, causing the man to cry out in agony. The sound of his jaw snapping echoed in the room. Samuel felt faint.
A sneer bubbled up to the surface of the Gideonite captain’s face, and a single, low-pitched laugh fell from his lips. Samuel exerted all the self-control he could muster to show he wasn’t afraid. He glowered back at the man, who took a small step forward. The fact that Samuel wasn’t cowering in terror appeared to anger the Gideonite.
Within an instant, the captain’s countenance changed for the worse. In a fit of rage, he reached for his belt dagger with his free hand. Now in immediate danger, the judge twisted from his seat, desperate to make his way to the back door. He was two paces from freedom when the Gideonite threw his weapon, striking the old judge squarely in the back. With a groan, Samuel sank to his knees and then fell to the floor, still.
One of the young soldiers said to the captain in some dismay, “This was not in our orders! We were to detain and deliver the judge so the emperor could question him. You’ve killed him!”
“Orders can be changed! General Rezon commands this troop, not the emperor.” One of the captain’s eyebrows drooped as the corner of his mouth twitched. He studied the young soldier. Feigned happiness replaced his disgust. “Besides,” he continued in a sickly sweet tone, “we do not need the old man anymore. Even if we don’t know the identity or location of his son, there is still a possibility The Thorn may be here, and I intend to deliver it to General Rezon.”
The young soldier retreated a few steps.
The back door opened. Another soldier wearing the Mark of the Raven entered. “Sir, all the guards have surrendered.”
“Good,” the captain replied. “Did you find the judge’s son among them?”
“We do not think so, sir. The men of the palace guard insist he left five days ago. He doesn’t seem to be among any of those who surrendered, although we cannot be sure.”
“Question them again! He may be hiding among them, and I want him, dead or alive!”
“Yes, sir!”
As the messenger left, the Gideonite captain began to systematically search the shelves lining the room. With the exception of the young dissenting soldier, the other men joined in, ruffling through the books. Two of the men tore out some of the hand-inked pages, threw them to the floor, and then added the broken tomes themselves to the pile. All but the youngest soldier commenced to ransack the room. They broke, tossed, opened, cleared, and swept every item from every corner of the hall. Each inspected object was hurled into varied heaps on the floor.
After twenty minutes of desperate searching, the soldiers stopped, bored of the relentless vandalism. The troop captain finally noticed that one of his men had not participated in the destruction. He grunted his disapproval.
The young soldier came to attention, but said nothing.
“It’s not here,” one of the other soldiers announced.
“We must get back to the company and report,” said another.
Angrily kicking items from their path, the group hoisted the beaten palace guard from the floor and made their way to the back door. Other soldiers were motioned in to remove the bodies of the guards. The captain pointed to the judge’s body.
“Leave this one,” he ordered. “I want him to stink. Maybe the smell of him will freshen up the place.” Stooping to twist his dagger from the dead judge’s back, he wiped the sticky blade on the judge’s robes before returning it to its gilded sheath.
He cursed as he pushed a large candelabra onto the stone floor, further dimming the available light in the hall as the fallen candles were snuffed. Turning to leave, he grumbled, “I swear, before the sister moons rise tonight, the Danielite captain who told us the judge’s son was here will pay dearly for his lies.”
Chapter 3
Sorrow
Jonathan winced as he stood up in the barn loft where a palace guard had covered him in straw, helping him to hide from the marauding troops. Four hours of squatting under the loose pile had caused his calves to cramp. He wondered if he would be able to walk once he crawled down from the loft.
Apart from some night birds and crickets, he hadn’t heard a single sound for the last half hour. When he first went into hiding, Jonathan heard screams among the other sounds of commotion, but the voices of both soldiers and villagers faded off soon after several men entered the barn with lanterns and led the animals away.
The palpable quiet disturbed him. He peered into the dark shadows below, but saw nothing. With cautious, slow movements, he moved to lean against a support beam where he rubbed each lower leg in turn to get the blood flowing. After some minutes, he felt his way to the ladder. With the aid of dim beams of moons-light coming through the walls, he descended through the dark, again intently listening for any noise around him.
Once on the ground, he brushed the dust and straw from his beard and hair, and donned his gray cloak. He pulled the hood over his head. Large enough to completely surround him, the cloak made Jonathan almost undetectable.
He moved to the large door of the barn, open just far enough to sidestep through. He left the barn and scanned the area for signs of movement. Satisfied there was no one about, he relaxed a bit, but still kept his hand close to the hilt of his sword.
He glanced up and saw that the rain clouds had moved on, revealing a brilliant night sky. The two smaller moons, Jade and Ebony, had risen above the western horizon. Within the hour, they would be joined by the last, larger moon, Sienna. The reflected light from the two moons mingled together as one beautiful lamp in the heavens. Ebony, a shiny charcoal color, and Jade, a deep green-gray, glowed almost like cooling embers. Two days from now, the largest moon, Sienna, would pass her sisters and begin another forty-five days of chasing them down again. Jonathan always enjoyed watching this dance, especially when the great reddish-brown moon would pass behind the others, giving them the appearance of a face.
Wanting to discover as much as he could about the situation in the village before the brightest moon rose, Jonathan made his way along the tall stone fences toward the back door of the Council Hall building. On any other early summer night, dim lights would glow from some of the village home windows, but tonight he saw nothing. Even the upper west rooms of the palace seemed to be dark and lifeless. Hearing nothing but the sounds of night, Jonathan became even more concerned. He quickened his pace to the hall.
Once he ascended the few steps at the outer back door with its connecting passage to the main floor of the palace, he reached into a leather pouch on his sword belt and removed a small piece of rabbit fur. He took from its folds a hexagonal crystal that had the appearance of pure water. Smooth as glass, six-sided, and flat with faceted ends, it fit easily into the palm of his hand. Jonathan rubbed the glow-stone vigorously against the fur, the friction causing the stone to emit a warm, soft, bluish light. With his thumb, he stuffed the fur back into the pouch, then snapped the crystal length-wise into the hollow pommel of the sword at his waist. Half-seated in the silver pommel, the stone still protruded like a short candle in a candlestick.
The glow it produced allowed Jonathan to see a breadth of about six feet in a dim circle before him. To make the light of the half-hidden crystal more effective, he unsheathed his sword and held it by the hilt, with its crystal blade pointed downward. Both the small, charged stone in the pommel and the glow-stone sword blade bathed his feet with an eerie, pale blue light.
Jonathan opened the outer door and put his hand on the edge, then put upward pressure on it to prevent the hinges from creaking. He pushed it wide open, then crossed the dark, deserted passageway to the inner door of the Council Hall. Once again he prevented the door from making noise, but this one he left only slightly ajar as he entered the main council chamber. There he found his father Samuel on the floor, lying in his bloodstained robes.
Squelching a cry, Jonathan ran to his father’s side and took Samuel into his arms. The cold body was heavy and stiff. Jonathan buried his face in the robes and wept. Several times Jonathan laid Samuel to the ground as he collapsed into a sobbing heap, after which he would pound the polished floor with his fist and then crawl back to his father to lift him close again. Tears of intense sadness streamed down into his beard, only to be replaced again with the hot tears of fury. Like water from a vase, his strength poured out until he was empty, and he collapsed.
Some time later when his weeping subsided, Jonathan found himself lying on the floor, staring up at the high windows of the Council Hall where some small amount of moons-light filtered in. Jonathan could feel the shoulder of his adored father beneath his head, and he wondered how long he had rested there. Rolling over onto his knees, Jonathan gazed upon his father’s still features. He bowed his head in prayer and started to speak, his voice cracking into almost a whimper.
“My God. My King. Help me.”
Unable to say another word, he listened. Another tear rolled down his cheek. Brushing it away, he breathed deep and exhaled slowly. Then Jonathan felt it. Comfort, the loving hands of a compassionate God warming his heart as a reassuring inner voice told him all would be well for his people. That singular thought was joined by a very personal promise that came into his mind with even more clarity: he would be kept safe.
Jonathan reached for his father again to pull him into a close embrace. With a gentleness one would have when handling an infant, he then respectfully laid his father to the floor beside the glowing crystal sword. He gazed into the careworn face of the man he most admired in life. Lines caused by time and concern for others furrowed his father’s wise brow. The years of a dignified sojourn in the world flowed around Samuel’s sun-darkened face like the mane of a lion, his silvered hair and beard almost hiding his strong neck. Even now in death and at rest, his father was truly an imposing figure—strong, straight, and regal.
Samuel had been a good man. In Jonathan’s eyes, there had never been one better. He had served the tribe as Chief Judge for just short of twenty years, supporting himself and his small family by his own labors. For this, he had been admired and revered. Samuel had never asked his people to do anything he would not do himself, even during difficult times. He had become a master at caring for his own family while still shouldering the responsibilities of leadership and judgment in serving the people he loved. In fact, much of the weathering of the old judge’s features had occurred during the countless seasons of working in the fields, with his late wife at his side. Samuel was loved most of all, however, because he had much preferred the title of judge to that of king, and had asked the people to address him as such. He never taxed his people for his own support, and never caused them to do evil. Instead, he had taught his people to have faith and hope, all the while remaining obedient to God’s commands.
As Jonathan knelt there studying his father, he wondered why the soldiers had killed him. It was actually Jonathan they wanted dead, he being the last direct heir of the bloodline, for Samuel had no other children. It had been dictated from the time the Original Man left his final prophetic blessing upon his sons that Daniel would have the Rights of Judgment. The family of Daniel would rule as judges and kings until the end if they remained faithful. Gideon and Uzzah had both been promised great prosperity if they would support Daniel, but from the beginning, there had been jealousy.
Those born into the Tribe of Gideon, wearing the Mark of the Raven, felt that if the birthright heir of the Tribe of Daniel could be removed—preferably by death—and the scepter fell into their hands, they would have the right to rule. The Thorn was the physical symbol of that right.
Jonathan shook his head in dismay. A simple object, the scepter only symbolized authority and power—it was not authority to rule in and of itself. And yet the Gideonites did not seem to understand this.
Thunk!
What was that? Jonathan jerked to a standing position.
A loud, dull thump came from above him and to his left, in the upper palace. Jonathan thought he also heard a yell somewhere in the distance, perhaps in the palace, but he could not tell for sure. Someone is still here! Jonathan whisked his blade from the smooth, polished floor.
Using the light from his glowing sword to navigate around piles of books, maps, and other items torn from the shelves, Jonathan raced to the stone judgment seat. He sat down, and while stomping his left heel against a small protruding piece of stone at the base, he twisted the right armrest outward. Reaching into a concealed compartment, he removed a cloth-wrapped rod, about seven inches in total length. He shoved it into a pocket of his undershirt beneath the folds of his tunic and cloak, and slid the armrest back into place until it clicked.
Time to get out.
Stepping over the debris on the floor, Jonathan knelt one last time by his father. He hesitated, but knew if he took time to move the body, he might not escape. He kissed his father on the forehead, then made his way to the hallway door, which was still ajar. Not wanting to make any noise by moving it, he squeezed through the opening with some difficulty. As Jonathan stole across the passageway that led to the palace, he peered to the right. At the end of the hall was a large door and a flight of steps leading to the second, third, and fourth floors of the palace. He watched the stairwell, not surprised at the flickers of light from above that dispelled some of the shadow.
Jonathan hastened through the wide-open outer door and kept close to the wall until he reached the corner of the building. He popped the glow-stone out of his sword pommel, stuffed it back into his belt pouch, then returned the sword to its hard leather sheath. With the lights extinguished, he sprinted into the open. He skirted the stone fences bordering the east side of the barn, passing his previous hiding place on the way toward the garden wall. Glancing back at frequent intervals to be sure he was not being followed, Jonathan ascended the stairs to the southwestern guard tower.
Once in the abandoned tower, he lifted up the bench seat and retrieved a shoulder sack of provisions and supplies. He also grabbed a large bow and a well-stocked quiver of fletched arrows from the wall rack. A long, silky rope hung on a post. Jonathan looped it around the main roof support, leaving both ends loose. With bow in hand and the sack and quiver on his shoulder, he tossed both rope ends over the rock wall, shinnied down, then jerked the loop free.
Jonathan tried to limit his noise as he jogged down the cobbled garden path between rows of old olive trees. He followed the moons-lit way toward the grain field, coiling the trailing rope as he went. Once the lengths of smooth rope had all been looped into his large hand, he paused to tuck it into his shoulder sack.
He rushed through the damp wheat and only looked back once he had made it to the dirt path bordering the forest. As far as Jonathan could tell, he had not been noticed or followed. The three moons were bright now, and by their light he could plainly see that the field remained empty. He watched the broken garden gate for a few seconds, then turned toward the trees. With one last sorrowful glance at his home, he disappeared into the dark forest from whence the Gideonite soldiers had come.
Chapter 4
Refuge
Familiar trails wound between aged trees, and Jonathan needed no more than the lights from above to find his way. He avoided thoughts of his father. His mind wandered to happier times as he felt his way down the dark paths splashed with occasional moons-light. As a boy, and even as a young man, he had spent many hours playing among these forest trees with his friends—especially with Eli, his closest friend. Eli’s keen gift of observation frequently made him the winner of any game that involved tracking or hiding from each other.
The sweet memories of carefree games with Eli made Jonathan smile as he went along. He took care not to leave signs of his passing—his footsteps light, his movements deliberate and smooth. As if to address his old friend, he whispered, “See, not even a single snapped branch or crushed twig left behind. Track me now, brother!”
Jonathan pressed southward for almost an hour until the terrain changed, the once-smooth, level paths starting to vary in elevation as the forest thinned. On the west side of the trail, the ground steepened, causing the trail to be diverted. He continued past the hill and approached another bend where moons-light reflected off sheer cliff faces now looming above him.
He stepped off the path between two close trees, taking care not to make too much noise, then paused to watch and listen. The forest was calm. A gentle breeze rustled the old oaks, but nothing else moved. Confident he was truly alone, he took fifteen paces to the base of the rock cliff and stood next to an old, dead tree. The weather-worn trunk still supported many branches bigger than the width of Jonathan’s shoulders. He gazed upward, intent on ascending to a large branch about twenty-five feet up that rested against the side of the cliff face. From the base of the featureless cliff, nothing seemed unusual about the specific place where the oak touched the rock. Jonathan knew otherwise, and he grabbed a limb just within reach. The familiarity of it all caused the corners of his mouth to twitch with excitement as he climbed.
Once he reached the intended branch, he could see the previously hidden depression in the rock wall just above him, shaped in such a way that until a person got right up to it, they couldn’t tell the cliff wasn’t solid all the way to the top. He stood on the huge branch and peered into the darkness of a natural cave.
Jonathan reached up and pulled himself to a sitting position on the ledge. Again he listened for any sign of movement in the forest below. Hearing nothing, he crawled back to the depression in the cliff face. Before entering the darkness, he reached into his belt pouch to retrieve his glow-stone and rub it to life, then crawled on his hands and knees into the cave. Five feet in, the chamber opened up with a raised ceiling, high enough for him to stand. Stashed along the edges of the small room were two complete bedrolls and other assorted blankets. There were also some cooking pans with utensils, old wooden chairs, a glow-stone lantern, some rope, arrows, and numerous other discarded items from the many visits he had made in years past with Eli and their other friends.
Now well after midnight, Jonathan could feel his tired bones. More than that, his heart ached with grief as the memories of the evening flooded back into his mind. Blinking away tears, he made his bed ready for the night. He was grateful the stash of bedding appeared to be pest-free, but he shook the blankets anyway.
Although hungry, he decided to wait until morning to arrange the supply sack he had taken from the guard tower. Jonathan removed his sword belt and laid it close to his bed. After taking off his cloak and his boots, he retrieved the steel dagger from his right boot sheath, placing it under a goose down pillow that had been rolled into the bedding, glad he and Eli had stashed the pillow in the cave several years ago.
A bit dusty, he thought to himself, but still very usable.
The summer night air felt quite warm, both outside and inside the cave, but the soft woolen blankets pulled to his chin still comforted him. He lay there with his head turned and stared out the moons-lit cave entrance. When tears came again, Jonathan attempted to pray, but his troubled thoughts prevented him from concentrating. Eventually weariness overcame him, and he entered a fitful sleep.
Chapter 5
Memories
Morning came, and Jonathan awoke to the singing of forest songbirds. Warmth and brightness crept into the cave, telling him of a sky both clear and cloudless. The angle of illumination in the passageway also told him he had slept far longer into the day than he had intended. Remembering the events of the evening, he sat up with a sigh. His hunger manifested itself in a strong growl. He had not eaten anything since the mid-day meal the previous day. Jonathan pressed the bedding into a tight roll and secured it with leather thongs. He pulled his boots on, then sat on the bedroll with the supply sack between his feet to take inventory of his cache.
The provisions were scanty—a mere two days’ worth of food, and that would be stretching it. There was a round of shepherd’s bread wrapped in a towel and some dried, spiced meat. He also found a half-round of goat cheese, raisins and dried apples in gourds with lids, and a small skin of wine.
Well, he thought, not a king’s ransom, but a good variety, even if it is a small portion.
Jonathan decided it would be prudent to eat only enough to curb his hunger, so he ate a chunk of the crusty bread and some dried apples. On the back wall of the cave, a damp trickle of a spring crawled down from the ceiling and disappeared into a crack in the rock. Using a stashed wooden cup to catch the water, he filled and drained it several times until his thirst was quenched. He filled the cup two more times, splashing the cool, clear liquid over his head so he could wash the dust from his face and short-trimmed beard.
Jonathan then went to work and coiled the rope from the guard tower to a suitable size to be slung across his chest. He tested the tension on the bowstring by pulling it to his chin with ease. He then arranged the arrows in the quiver to be sure they had not become entangled. He strapped on his belt, sheathed his boot dagger, donned his large gray cloak, and grabbed his shoulder sack and quiver. Then he made his way through the low passageway to the ledge. Once outside, the brightness of the morning suns made him blink as his eyes adjusted to the light. He sat and dangled his feet for a few minutes while he thought about his plans.
The mid-morning heat would soon make travel far less enjoyable. Behind him and above the rocky cliffs, the small twin solar disks of Azure and Aqua had climbed from the western horizon and into the dark blue expanse above him. The suns’ distance made them visually small, and Jonathan could block them both with his little finger by lifting his hand skyward. Yet the two suns were still so intensely hot and bright that they would blind a man if he were to look straight at them. Jonathan could see that the sun Azure was near to its companion Aqua, and knew that the next morning during their rising, Azure would pass in front of the lighter blue sun, marking the start of the Sabbath day. The purplish hue in the summer sky now surrounding Azure was beautiful to him.
As Jonathan sat on the rocky ledge, he still felt a fatigue as deep as his bones. He ran his hands through his shoulder-length brown hair to untangle it, and scratched his beard. He then reached into the pocket of his undershirt, retrieving the cloth bundle hidden there. With deep respect, Jonathan unrolled the cloth in his hands. A picture of a red serpent inside a white circle had been embroidered on the soft, purple square of linen. The Mark of the Serpent signified the Tribe of Daniel.
In the opened cloth lay a stunningly beautiful rod about seven inches in length and an inch or so thick. The rod had been crafted of smooth, clear glass, knobbed at the ends with white-gold caps etched with exquisite writing and designs. Jonathan read the familiar engraving on each end: “Holiness, Honor, Humility.” The light from the twin suns glinted off the surface of the scepter, and within the glass, the embedded thorn almost sparkled as Jonathan rolled the rod back and forth in his palm.
Centered within the scepter, and visible in every detail, was a two-inch long, bloodstained gray thorn. It had been pressed into the still-molten glass, and had thus been preserved throughout the last nine hundred years.
As Jonathan studied the bloodstained tip of the thorn, his mind went back to a cold winter day long ago when, as a young boy, he sat with his father in the Council Room after eating breakfast.
* * *
“Father, why is there a thorn in your scepter?”
Samuel smiled and scooted a bit closer to Jonathan on the wooden bench. He held the scepter up to the morning light streaming from the high western windows and turned the rod to catch the rays, dispersing the soft beams around them onto the floor.
“What do you see?” Samuel asked.
Jonathan looked closer and noticed that the tip of the thorn was dark brown, whereas the thorn itself was gray. “It looks like blood,” he said with some uncertainty.
“That’s right. It is blood. Would you like to hear the story about this thorn?”
“Yes!”
“Do you remember the name of the person who lived about one thousand years ago, the person we call the Original Man?” Samuel asked.
“Sure—Father Noah!”
“That’s right. When our world, which we call Gan, was created, the first man to live upon it was Father Noah. Noah’s wife was named Sarah. He loved her more than anything else. Mother Sarah bore Noah three sons, whom he named Daniel, Uzzah, and Gideon. The Writings of Daniel, Noah’s eldest son, tell of a day when he was chopping trees and brush on the edge of a field with his brothers to help his father clear it for planting.”
Jonathan frowned with disgust. “I don’t like chopping bushes.”
Samuel chuckled. “I know you don’t. But sometimes we have to do things we don’t like so we can provide food for ourselves. Much like the good eggs and bread you had for breakfast!” Samuel poked Jonathan, and he giggled.
“Daniel said in his writings that on this particular day as he chopped bushes, he happened to trip over a root. When he got up from his fall, his head hurt, and blood dripped into his eyes. His father rushed to him to be sure he had not been severely injured. Noah pulled this thorn from Daniel’s forehead.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Yes, I am sure it did. But Daniel felt much better when the thorn was gone.” Samuel assured his son with a pat on the shoulder.
“But that is not where the story ends. With Daniel’s brothers looking on, his father stood up and was very quiet as he stared heavenward. Daniel, Uzzah, and Gideon all watched Father Noah gazing into the sky. Daniel said, ‘his father’s face shone like the sun, his eyes full of joy and gladness.’”
Jonathan gaped at the excitement in Samuel’s eyes as he retold the story of Daniel. Oh, how he loved his father and wanted so much to be just like him.
Samuel continued, “As the young men watched their father, they realized Noah was listening to somebody they could not see. The three brothers felt a very special spirit. Then Father Noah gazed down at Daniel, and around to Uzzah and Gideon, and said in a clear voice, with power and humility: ‘Just as this thorn has pierced the head of my eldest son, thorns will pierce the head of The One Who Would Suffer. He will be mocked and beaten, and a crown of thorns will be made for Him to wear. Daniel, because of your faith in God, you will wear the crown of a king, and you will judge this people in righteousness to the end of your days. Through you and your posterity will all the peoples of my seed be judged until the True King comes and receives his kingdom here on Gan!’”
Samuel put his arm around Jonathan’s shoulder and explained, “Father Noah blessed all his sons that day. He prophesied of their posterity and told them of the great blessings they would all receive if they remained faithful to their Creator and God.
“It has been said that Daniel was both awed and humbled, and that his brother Uzzah was gracious and glad for him. But Gideon was jealous of the birthright blessing Daniel had received. The day eventually came, after the death of Noah, when the three sons and their families became tribes, separate one from another. Wars between the Gideonites and the other tribes became common because of the great jealousy Gideon had for Daniel.
“Remember! Remember to always pray for them that someday their jealousy and anger will be turned to love for their brethren.”
* * *
Jonathan’s mind returned to the present, and he again felt the pain of the previous day. He frowned as he regarded the scepter. Much of the suffering in the world had been caused by the desires of wicked men to go against the will of the Creator as spoken by Father Noah. All three tribes were very large now, comprised of thousands of men, women, and children. But recently, many had died at the hands of the Gideonites. Hundreds had been sent to their eternal home, leaving behind their loved ones to mourn their departure.
He reached up with a free hand, brushing a fresh tear away. His heart ached as he realized Samuel had paid the ultimate price for defending his family and his beliefs, leaving Jonathan alone in the world. Somber as he sat in quiet contemplation, he stared into the glass rod for quite some time.
Growing uncomfortable under the mid-morning light of the twin suns, he sighed and rolled the scepter back into its protective cloth, then retired it to his shirt pocket. Jonathan pulled himself up from his sitting position and yawned, stretching his strong back muscles. He viewed the green trees below him and prepared to climb onto the large, dead oak branch below.
Just then, he heard the faint noise of voices coming from the direction of the trail he had intended to follow south. He fell prone onto the rock ledge, his feet inside the cave entrance, and retrieved his spyglass from its belt pouch. Inching to the edge, he searched the trail for signs of movement.
He lay very still, but the strain of minimizing his movements and controlling his breathing caused him to sweat. Through the ocular of the spyglass, he saw an army of about two hundred soldiers coming from the south, all wearing hardened leather breastplates adorned with a black raven. They would soon pass directly below. Jonathan collapsed the small scope so as not to cause a visible reflection, then cautiously pushed himself back from the ledge and waited.
The noise grew louder as the army approached. Heavy sounds of marching feet on the shaded trail below echoed against the face of the rocky cliff. Jonathan strained to hear conversations, but could not discern any specific words from the men. He heard only the occasional muffled shout of orders from one section of the advancing army to another. Because of the speed of their march, it did not take the Gideonites long to pass the cliff and disappear over the rolling, wooded hills to the north.
Even though they were now gone, Jonathan was disturbed. He moved back into the defenses of the cave and took a squatting position a few feet into the shadows.
Now what do I do? he thought, frustrated. If I leave now, I am sure to be caught. If they are still sending large numbers of troops north, there will be more to come.
He puzzled over the predicament, then went to his knees.
“My Father and my God, what shall I do now?”
Jonathan listened with eyes closed and his hands on his knees. After a brief moment, he heard within his mind just one word from that familiar sweet voice—wait. Rising from his knees, he retreated to the confines of the cave and said audibly to himself, “Yes, I will wait until I feel differently.”
He busied himself in the cave for the rest of the morning. Feeling he would be there for a while, he removed his sword belt and shoulder sack and began to clean things up a bit. He organized the items in the cave, then took time to inspect his own clothing for frays or tears. The few he found he repaired with the use of some ingenuity and threads painstakingly removed from discarded cloth in the cave. The morning grew late, and Jonathan ate a more substantial part of his provisions for lunch. But as he finished his meal, he still did not feel it was time to leave. On one other occasion during the morning, Jonathan had stopped his activities to listen to what seemed to be another army passing below.
The much quieter afternoon relieved some of his anxiety. Even the chirping and activity of birds in the forest caused Jonathan to feel more relaxed. He decided to take the opportunity for a brief nap.
Although it seemed such a short time that he slept, he awoke late. He sat up suddenly, alarmed that the light outside was already dim with the onset of early evening. He got to his feet and stretched under the rough cave ceiling, touching it. Now twenty-nine years old and over six feet tall, what had seemed like such a grand cavern to him as a youth now just barely allowed him to move about comfortably.
Jonathan gathered his things and decided to go to the ledge for a look around. Reaching the old oak tree, he surveyed the forest floor below him and listened. Nothing out of the ordinary came to his senses, and yet he still did not feel inclined to leave. He still had the same feeling from earlier that morning. Not wanting to return to the cave, he set his back against the cliff wall and stretched his legs out, his dusty brown boots almost reaching the edge of the rock shelf. The heat of the day was gone, having been replaced with a refreshing, cool evening breeze. Coursing through a darkening sky, the twin suns both descended toward the eastern horizon, the expanse painted like an ocean scene in shades of intense blue. Soon the deep hues would be mixed with the familiar colors of a scarlet and violet sunset. Jonathan felt almost content as he rested there, admiring the beautiful sights of nature. He let his mind wander from thought to thought.
Not much time passed before Jonathan was startled by noise below. “Another army!” he whispered to himself.
He again went prone on the ledge to avoid detection, and inched his way to a better place to see the trails winding below him. The army approached, but this time from the north, heading south. Their march was quite slow for some reason. Jonathan studied their movements and soon realized the small group was a prisoner escort. He strained his eyes, scanning for the face of the prisoner between the branches and leaves which obscured a clear view. It was getting darker among the trees and harder for Jonathan to see, but as the eight men got close, he caught a glimpse of a man in bonds—as large as a bear, and wearing a sour expression beneath his flame-red beard.
Jonathan gasped. Eli!
Chapter 6
Rescue
The band passed Jonathan’s location, wending its way southward down the forest path. Jonathan’s mind raced with numerous options. The instant he committed to leaving, an impression came into his mind—rescue Eli. His whole body surged with adrenaline as he dropped from the cliff ledge onto the dead oak branch below, and climbed down the old tree to the ground.
The Gideonites marched about two hundred paces ahead of him now, and he darted between the trees, using them as cover so he could approach the group undetected. Jonathan closed the distance to fifty paces and could see they had reached a familiar open glade of the forest. As the group moved into the clearing, he realized his own cover would soon be lost.
The sky above was starting to turn from its deep blue of the day to the dark color of violet—a stunning backdrop to the few wispy clouds in the east, edged in scarlet and pink. The long shadows in the glade from the eastern tree line pointed to a grassy hill on the western side of the clearing. There, the trail split just before passing the hill, where it continued both south and west to rise over the hill itself.
Jonathan paused at the edge of the trees, brushed his dark gray cloak to one side, and impulsively whisked an arrow from his quiver. He pulled it back, making the bowstring taut.
What am I doing? Am I so eager to die?
Rescue Eli. The voice was quiet, but firm.
Jonathan obeyed. He stepped to one side of the trail, staying close to a tree for cover, and yelled to the Gideonites.
“Stop!”
The band jerked about and faced him. One of the soldiers grabbed the rope looped around Eli’s neck with both hands to keep him from running. Seven dark ravens stared at Jonathan with gleaming eyes from hardened leather breastplates, and swords were drawn in an instant. Two of the men began to reach for arrows to fill their bows, but Jonathan yelled again.
“Stop! Do not reach for those arrows, or you are dead men! Release the prisoner at once if you wish to live!”
The soldiers froze as if with indecision, not knowing what to do. Several of the men stared in earnest at one man who appeared to be their captain, awaiting his instructions. The Gideonite put out his hand, signaling the archers to hold, and glared at Jonathan.
“Who are you?” the soldier sneered.
Jonathan directed the tip of his arrow at the chest of the tall, strong man and studied him. The armored Gideonite had hardened leather guards strapped to his legs and arms and wore a leather cap edged in red. Jonathan recognized the dark, blood-red wool that confirmed this man served as a captain.
“It does not matter who I am,” Jonathan replied with a loud voice. “Release the man at once, or you will die! You have caused enough death and destruction, and I will not stand for any more suffering at your hands. I do not wish to shed your blood, but I will do so if you do not comply!”
The captain laughed. “I can see you are alone,” he ridiculed. “And you seem to be outnumbered. Any one of my men will kill you at my command. I suggest you put down your bow and surrender to me at once!”
Jonathan pulled the bowstring to his chin, causing the large wooden bow to creak under the tension.
“Release him or die!” Jonathan warned again. “You have offended both God and man, and I will send you to your eternal judgment if you do not obey!”
For a moment, the captain paused as if he feared the promise. Then he welled up with anger and commanded, “Kill him!”
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