Daron Fraley: The Thorn

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.