The Chronicles of Gan: The Thorn (2 page)

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

J
onathan, 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

J
onathan 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.