The Chronicles of Gan: The Thorn (5 page)

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

T
he 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!”

Jonathan’s hands followed his eyes to the
archers, who had already nocked arrows onto their bowstrings.
Before they could draw, Jonathan let his first arrow fly, striking
one of them squarely in the chest with such force that it pierced
the hardened breastplate of the soldier, throwing him back into a
patch of purple and red wildflowers. With great speed and agility,
Jonathan went down on one knee, nocking another arrow in the
process, and struck the second archer in the neck, causing the
archer’s drawn arrow to misfire wildly upward as he fell into a
lifeless heap on the ground.

Jonathan saw Eli in motion, throwing his
jailer to the turf with a shoulder butt, hard enough to make the
man gasp for air. Still hampered by his bonds, all Eli could do now
was duck while staggering away from the group. Another soldier
charged his former prisoner with a drawn sword. Jonathan pulled
another arrow and let it loose. The soldier fell with an arrow
lodged deep into his exposed side before he had run another five
feet.

Fearing again for Eli’s safety, Jonathan
targeted the soldier closest to his escaping friend. The man fell,
mortally wounded, near the Gideonite captain’s feet.

Vile hatred seethed from the captain’s eyes.
When a raspy moan caught the captain’s attention and he bent to
slit the dying man’s throat, the unexpected cruelty of the scene
startled Jonathan, making his anger boil. He stepped forward,
nocking another arrow.

The captain saw Jonathan draw and let out a
deranged scream. Jonathan tensed as the man charged, closely
followed by the last standing soldier. Fearing he would have to
deal with two of them at once, Jonathan took down the second
soldier with two successive arrows. The Gideonite captain almost
upon him, Johathan dropped the bow to the ground.

Jonathan stood, unsheathed his crystal sword
in one motion, and blocked the captain’s striking blow. The
Gideonite’s sword sparked, and a chunk of the steel blade
ricocheted to the ground. The captain reeled to the left. He began
another swing directed at Jonathan’s exposed head, but Jonathan
ducked and rolled, and then with tremendous strength, he thrust his
crystal blade with full force up at the captain’s midsection, just
under the breastplate. Jonathan withdrew the sword and jumped back,
planting his stance with his weapon ready.

The Gideonite captain went pale, gaping in
amazement as the bloodstained lining of his armor went from dark,
reddish-brown to a bright, wet scarlet. He gasped for air and then
tumbled face-first to the ground.

By this time, the last remaining Gideonite
had recovered his breath, and he ran toward Jonathan with a waving
sword. Jonathan met him with a swift blow, striking the soldier’s
blade. The steel snapped in half with a sound like a hammer on an
anvil. The soldier recoiled, fear in his eyes. Jonathan followed
his gaze and saw that he stared at the crystal blade flashing blue
and red in the late evening light. The soldier dropped his broken
weapon to the ground and retreated a few more steps.

Not wanting to let the opportunity go,
Jonathan lunged forward and placed the faceted tip of his sword
directly on the eye of the raven painted on the man’s polished
breastplate.

“Why
did you
not listen
to me?” Jonathan asked, full of anger.

The soldier quaked in terror. As if his
tongue had been bound, he did not speak a single word. His eyes
were wide, and he kept glancing down at the strange, clear blade
poking his chest.

Jonathan tried to catch his breath. He
noticed that a still-fettered Eli approached the soldier from
behind. The broad grin on Eli’s face widened into an unmistakable
sign of joy, his white teeth framed by a red beard. Eli hobbled
forward in restraining shackles which prevented him from taking
more than half-strides. Jonathan thought Eli looked like a big bear
tangled in vines, lumbering through the grass in the dimming light
of the evening. The sight of Eli’s struggle stole all the anger
Jonathan had left. Even though his chest still heaved from
exertion, Jonathan smiled widely.

He turned back again to scrutinize the eyes
of the Gideonite soldier, and saw deep within them a man not yet
hardened by war.

“What’s your name?” Jonathan asked in a much
softer tone than before.

“Pekah,” came the halting reply.

Jonathan studied the face of the soldier to
get a sense of his character. Pekah’s face was young and fair,
clean-shaven in the fashion of the Gideonite soldiers, with a short
and unobtrusive nose, rounded chin, and dark brown eyes. His wavy
black hair intensified the fairness of his complexion. Jonathan
guessed Pekah could not have been much more than twenty-two years
old.

In contrast with the fallen captain, Pekah
did not seem to have the lust for murder and destruction in his
countenance. His bright eyes weren’t dimmed, like those who had
seen too much death. They did, however, show evidence of fear.
Jonathan felt sorry for him.

Still holding his sword at
the Gideonite’s chest, Jonathan briefly turned to check for other
soldiers. When he looked back, he saw something else in Pekah’s
face, but couldn’t make it out.
Perhaps
surprise?
Jonathan thought.

“Pekah, I am—”

“Nate,” interrupted the deep voice of his
friend, who had now joined them. “His name is Nate.”

Jonathan grinned at the use of Eli’s
nickname for him. “Yes, I’m Nate,” Jonathan said as he lowered his
sword to his side.

Pekah relaxed with the blade tip now off his
chest.

“Although you and your fallen friends
attempted to kill me, I don’t wish to shed your blood,” Jonathan
said. “I won’t permit you, however, to continue your war against my
people. If you covenant with me that you will lay down your weapons
of war and return to your home in peace, I will spare your
life.”

Pekah did not answer. Jonathan sensed a
renewed fear in the soldier.

“Again, I swear to you, as I am granted
breath by our God and Creator, that I will spare your life and
release you, if you will but heed my request and give me your
promise upon your very honor.”

Jonathan stepped back a few paces to give
Pekah some room, and took opportunity to check him over. He saw
that Pekah was strong and fit, slightly shorter than himself and
Eli. The Gideonite’s rough hands betrayed the life of one
accustomed to the hard work of a laborer, and seemed out of place
when contrasted with the almost-new uniform he wore. Dressed in the
typical manner of Gideonite soldiers, he wore a tightly-woven green
wool tunic under his breastplate, which reached to just above the
knees, held to his waist by a wide leather belt. His pants were
black, and his brown boots wore the evidence of many long marches
in recent days. In particular, Jonathan noticed that the paint on
Pekah’s hardened leather breastplate shone in the evening light, an
indication he had not been serving in the army of the Gideonite
emperor for very long.

As Jonathan surveyed the soldier’s
appearance, Pekah gaped at the sword in Jonathan’s hand as if
surprised not to have been struck down by it. Jonathan looked again
at Eli, and felt annoyed when Pekah cleared his throat to get his
full attention.

“I seem to have a problem.”

Jonathan’s eyebrows lifted as he scrutinized
the young Gideonite. “What kind of problem?”

Pekah swallowed hard. “If I consent, and
give the oath which you have requested, my life will be in danger
of forfeit. Desertion from the emperor’s army is punishable by
death. From what I have heard, death for deserters is not a
pleasant experience. The emperor is fond of torture to induce
submission among the people.”

“I see.”

“And,” Pekah continued, “returning home will
take me nowhere. My mother passed away a few years ago. I never
knew my father. I only have one other choice.”

Jonathan waited. Pekah’s dramatic pause
irritated him.

“My only choice is to follow you.”

Jonathan frowned, and he felt his brow
furrow. He stepped closer to the Gideonite and glared at him. “What
will you do for me?” he asked in a firm voice.

Pekah did not hesitate. “I will serve you.
Yes, Nate—I will serve you until you release me, and even unto the
end of my life, if you desire. Will you take me as your servant?”
He stood unflinching and motionless.

Jonathan did not relish
the thought of having a servant join him in battle, and yet
something intrigued him about the idea of keeping Pekah
close.
This young man may be of
use
, he thought. “Swear it. Swear it by
your honor.”

“I swear it by my life and my honor.”

Now satisfied, Jonathan switched his weapon
to his left, then stepped forward, offering the palm of his free
hand in acceptance, which Pekah instantly covered with his own
right hand. Jonathan held Pekah’s gaze momentarily, then both men
withdrew. An oath of honor such as this would be broken only by
death, even by a Gideonite. Jonathan relaxed with a deep
breath.

Seeing that his own sword was still in hand,
Jonathan drove it deep into the soft grassy turf, all the way to
the hilt, to clean it. He pulled it from the ground and flashed the
perfect, sharp edges above him. Through the blade, he could see the
eastern sunset sky where the small dots of Azure and Aqua rested on
the horizon. He sheathed the sword, feigned a glare at Eli, then
grinned.