by Daron Fraley
The Thorn
( The chronicles of Gan - 1 )
Daron Fraley
Daron Fraley
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 lis
tening 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.
