The Chronicles of Gan: The Thorn

by Daron Fraley

  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 le
ss 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 on
ly 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.