Ziklag 10.4 - Jonathan’s Climb

Treacherous Rocks, Strategic Writing, and the Archeology of 42 (for some)

In the rugged hill country of Benjamin, a daring act of faith and bravery took place that would alter the course of Israel’s history. It’s the story of Jonathan’s climb—one of the most dramatic moments of military courage in the Old Testament, where Saul’s son, Jonathan, and his armor-bearer, ascend through a treacherous pass between two jagged rocks to take on the Philistine army.

This isn’t just a story of heroism, but also one that reveals the strategic significance of Israel’s geography and sheds light on the reign of Saul, Israel’s first king. Jonathan’s bold ascent through a dangerous ravine, filled with obstacles, offers a perfect framework to explore the archeological and geographical context of Saul’s kingdom.

Two Treacherous Rocks

1 Samuel 14:4-5 describes the perilous terrain that Jonathan and his armor-bearer faced. They passed between two sharp rocks named Bozez and Seneh, located near Michmash and Gibeah. Understanding these rocks gives us key insights into the terrain that would have been crucial to military strategies during Saul’s reign.

• Bozez (בֹּוצֵץ): The name likely derives from the Hebrew root בּוֹץ (botz), meaning “miry” or “clay.” Rather than a shining, glistening rock, this interpretation points to Bozez being a slippery, unstable surface, perhaps composed of loose gravel or clay that made the climb treacherous. Ancient hearers would have associated this with something you couldn’t rely on for stable footing. It paints a picture of Jonathan and his companion navigating a slope that could easily cause a misstep—an almost impossible passage for a surprise attack.

• Seneh (סֶנֶּה): Derived from סְנֶה (sneh), meaning “thorn” or “thornbush,” Seneh refers to a thorny, spiky area, likely with jagged rocks surrounded by thorn bushes. Imagine trying to climb not only an unstable, muddy slope but one filled with painful thorns, further complicating the ascent.

Together, Bozez and Seneh describe a path that was nearly impassable—slippery, thorny, and dangerous. These were no ordinary rocks; they represented natural barriers that would have deterred most warriors. Yet Jonathan, driven by faith, scaled this deadly passage with only his armor-bearer, leading to a stunning victory over the Philistines.

Michmash and Gibeah: Strategic Strongholds

The rocks of Bozez and Seneh stood guard over a critical pass between Michmash and Gibeah, two of the most important military and political centers in Saul’s kingdom.

• Michmash: Positioned about 7 miles north of Jerusalem, Michmash (modern-day Mukhmas) controlled a vital pass that linked the Benjamin plateau to the Jordan Valley. The name Michmash likely comes from a root meaning “to store” or “to hoard,” reflecting its possible use as a military supply depot. As a natural fortress, Michmash dominated the narrow passage that Jonathan ascended, and its strategic importance is clear: whoever controlled Michmash controlled access to the heartland of Israel.

Excavations at Michmash have uncovered Iron Age fortifications, walls, and pottery dating to Saul’s time, confirming its role as a heavily fortified town. The rugged cliffs and deep ravines surrounding Michmash would have made it nearly impenetrable, except to a daring warrior like Jonathan.

• Gibeah: Roughly 3 miles from Michmash, Gibeah was Saul’s capital and stronghold. The name Gibeah means “hill,” reflecting its elevated position that made it ideal for defense. Tell el-Ful, identified as the site of ancient Gibeah, has been excavated, revealing substantial Iron Age structures, including a fortress from Saul’s era. This fortress confirms Gibeah’s status as a key administrative and military hub during the early monarchy. From here, Saul governed and launched military campaigns against Israel’s enemies.

Gibeah’s high position made it a critical outpost, offering Saul a vantage point over the surrounding territory. As Jonathan made his climb, he would have had Gibeah in his sights, knowing that his actions could tip the balance of power in favor of his father’s kingdom.

Jonathan’s Victory and the Archeological Legacy of Saul

Jonathan’s successful ascent and attack on the Philistine garrison were not just a moment of personal valor—they were a turning point in Israel’s struggle against the Philistines. The terrain that seemed impossible to cross was no match for Jonathan’s faith. His victory threw the Philistines into confusion, leading to a larger Israelite assault that pushed back their enemies.

This event also highlights the strategic importance of Saul’s reign, which was characterized by constant warfare against Israel’s enemies, particularly the Philistines. Saul’s ability to defend and hold key positions like Michmash and Gibeah was crucial to the survival of the young Israelite monarchy. These were not just names on a map; they were well-fortified strongholds that anchored Saul’s kingdom in the rugged highlands of Benjamin.

Archeological evidence from Michmash and Gibeah supports the biblical narrative of Saul’s reign as a time of intense military fortification. Excavations at these sites have uncovered Iron Age fortresses, pottery, and remnants of walls, showing the scale of Saul’s efforts to defend his kingdom. The defensive structures, the geographical significance, and the rugged topography all align with the story of Jonathan’s climb—a testament to the strength and resilience of faith in Jesus Christ.

Blindness: From Judgment to Restoration

The theme of blindness in the Old Testament runs deep, spanning from the early narratives of Genesis to the prophecies of Isaiah and Jeremiah. What begins as a tool for divine judgment evolves into a profound metaphor for spiritual disobedience and ignorance, ultimately concluding with a promise of restoration. In this exploration, we trace the theological development of blindness, revealing its layered meanings and how it connects to the ministry of Jesus in the New Testament.

Part I: Blindness as Divine Judgment

Blindness in the Old Testament often appears as a manifestation of God’s judgment, particularly as a response to human rebellion and wickedness. This is made clear early on in Genesis 19:11, when the men of Sodom, intent on committing grievous sin, are struck with blindness by the angels. As they grope helplessly at Lot’s door, their physical blindness becomes a symbol of their spiritual darkness. “And they struck the men who were at the doorway of the house with blindness, both small and great, so that they became weary trying to find the door” (NKJV). Here, blindness is an immediate divine intervention, a way of stopping evil in its tracks. It also signals that those who persist in sin will eventually lose all sense of moral direction, left wandering in the dark.

God’s sovereignty over human faculties is clearly asserted in Exodus 4:11, where He reminds Moses, “Who has made man’s mouth? Or who makes the mute, the deaf, the seeing, or the blind? Have not I, the Lord?” (NKJV). This statement affirms that blindness, whether physical or spiritual, is not outside God’s control. It becomes a tool that He uses—at times for judgment and at other times as a precursor to healing and restoration.

In Deuteronomy 28:28-29, blindness is one of the many curses promised for disobedience. This passage describes the consequences of breaking God’s covenant: madness, confusion, and blindness. Those under this curse will grope at noonday as the blind grope in darkness. “The Lord will strike you with madness and blindness and confusion of heart. And you shall grope at noonday, as a blind man gropes in darkness; you shall not prosper in your ways; you shall be only oppressed and plundered continually, and no one shall save you” (NKJV). Here, blindness isn’t just physical; it symbolizes a deep sense of moral confusion and helplessness, a life without the guiding light of God’s wisdom.

This sense of disorientation is echoed in Lamentations 4:14, where, after the destruction of Jerusalem, the people are described as wandering the streets in a state of spiritual blindness. “They wandered blind in the streets; they have defiled themselves with blood, so that no one would touch their garments” (NKJV). Their defilement has led to a complete loss of moral clarity, and they stumble through life, disconnected from their former covenant with God. The image is stark: the blindness of sin leading to the physical and moral collapse of a nation.

The book of Zephaniah further reinforces blindness as a symbol of divine judgment. In Zephaniah 1:17, God declares that, because of sin, He will bring distress upon humanity so that they will walk like the blind, confused and lost. “I will bring distress upon men, and they shall walk like blind men, because they have sinned against the Lord; their blood shall be poured out like dust, and their flesh like refuse” (NKJV). Blindness is not just a physical affliction but a consequence of moral and spiritual failure, illustrating how sin leaves humanity in a state of aimless wandering.

Part II: Blindness as Spiritual IgnorArrogance

As the narrative of blindness moves forward in the Old Testament, it takes on deeper metaphorical meaning, often representing Israel’s spiritual ignorance and the arrogance of its leaders. The book of Isaiah is central to this shift. In Isaiah 42:18-20, God calls out Israel, His servant, as being blind despite all they have witnessed. This isn’t a physical blindness, but a willful refusal to see and acknowledge God’s truth. “Hear, you deaf; and look, you blind, that you may see. Who is blind but My servant, or deaf as My messenger whom I send? Who is blind as he who is perfect, and blind as the Lord’s servant?” (NKJV). Israel’s blindness is a self-imposed condition, the result of ignoring the commands and guidance of God, even though they have been chosen as His people. They are blind servants, deaf messengers—figures of contradiction.

This self-imposed blindness is also reflected in Isaiah 29:9-10, where the prophets and seers are described as having been spiritually blinded. God has allowed them to fall into a deep sleep, covering their eyes and closing their ears. “Pause and wonder! Blind yourselves and be blind! They are drunk, but not with wine; they stagger, but not with intoxicating drink. For the Lord has poured out on you the spirit of deep sleep, and has closed your eyes, namely, the prophets; and He has covered your heads, namely, the seers” (NKJV). This passage underscores how spiritual leaders, who should have been guiding the people, became blind to God’s wisdom, leading the nation into confusion and disaster.

The Old Testament doesn’t stop at Israel’s blindness; it also critiques the moral failures of those who take advantage of the vulnerable, including the blind. Leviticus 19:14 commands, “You shall not curse the deaf, nor put a stumbling block before the blind, but shall fear your God: I am the Lord” (NKJV). This instruction goes beyond just physical disability; it also serves as a metaphor for misleading those who are spiritually blind. To place a stumbling block before the blind is to take advantage of those who lack spiritual sight, leading them astray.

In Deuteronomy 16:19, the image of blindness reappears as a metaphor for corruption. The law warns that accepting a bribe “blinds the eyes of the wise” and distorts justice. “You shall not pervert justice; you shall not show partiality, nor take a bribe, for a bribe blinds the eyes of the wise and twists the words of the righteous” (NKJV). Here, blindness serves as a potent symbol of how easily even the wise can be led astray by greed and self-interest. The distortion of vision, both literal and spiritual, leads to a world where truth and justice are obscured.

The seriousness of misleading the blind is highlighted again in Deuteronomy 27:18, where a curse is pronounced: “Cursed is the one who makes the blind to wander off the road. And all the people shall say, ‘Amen!’” (NKJV). This curse is literal but also metaphorical, condemning those who lead others, especially the spiritually blind, into error. This passage foreshadows the harsh judgment against the “blind guides” of Israel, a theme that will resurface in the New Testament.

Part III: Blindness and Restoration—The Messianic Hope

Despite the dark connotations of blindness as judgment and ignorance, the Old Testament also offers a vision of hope: the promise of restored sight, both physical and spiritual, in the coming Messianic age. The prophet Isaiah speaks of a future time when the curse of blindness will be reversed. Isaiah 35:5 declares, “Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped” (NKJV). This healing of the blind is more than just a miracle; it represents the dawning of a new era where God’s people will see clearly again—both literally and in their relationship with God.

The role of the Servant of the Lord in this restoration is further emphasized in Isaiah 42:6-7, where God describes His Servant’s mission to bring light to the nations: “I, the Lord, have called You in righteousness, and will hold Your hand; I will keep You and give You as a covenant to the people, as a light to the Gentiles, to open blind eyes, to bring out prisoners from the prison, those who sit in darkness from the prison house” (NKJV). The opening of blind eyes here is both literal and symbolic, reflecting the spiritual awakening and liberation that the Messiah will bring.

In Isaiah 42:16, the imagery of blindness gives way to one of guidance: “I will bring the blind by a way they did not know; I will lead them in paths they have not known. I will make darkness light before them, and crooked places straight. These things I will do for them, and not forsake them” (NKJV). This passage promises that God will guide the blind, both physically and spiritually, along new paths, transforming darkness into light. It’s a powerful metaphor for the redemptive work of God, leading His people out of ignorance and into understanding.

This promise of restoration is echoed in Jeremiah 31:8, where the blind are specifically mentioned as part of the remnant that God will bring back from exile. “Behold, I will bring them from the north country, and gather them from the ends of the earth, among them the blind and the lame, the woman with child and the one who labors with child, together; a great throng shall return there” (NKJV). Here, the blind represent those who have been cut off, marginalized, and seemingly forgotten, yet whom God promises to restore.

The theme of blindness in the Old Testament begins as an expression of divine judgment, evolves into a metaphor for spiritual ignorance and arrogance, and culminates in the promise of healing and restoration through the Messiah. Whether used as a literal or symbolic term, blindness in the Scriptures serves as a reminder of the consequences of turning away from God—and of His enduring promise to bring light to those in darkness. In the New Testament, Jesus takes up this theme, healing the blind and condemning the “blind guides” of His day, fulfilling the ancient prophecies and offering hope for spiritual renewal.

Addendum: Common and Sacrificial Usages

While the theological symbolism of blindness dominates much of the Old Testament, there are also references to blindness in more practical or ceremonial contexts. For example, Leviticus 21:18 prohibits any man with a physical defect, including blindness, from serving as a priest: “For any man who has a defect shall not approach: a man blind or lame, who has a marred face or any limb too long” (NKJV). Similarly, Deuteronomy 15:21 excludes animals with defects, including blindness, from being offered as sacrifices: “But if there is any defect in it, if it is lame or blind or has any serious defect, you shall not sacrifice it to the Lord your God” (NKJV). These rules emphasize the importance of physical wholeness in both the priesthood and sacrificial offerings, reflecting a broader concern for purity in approaching God.

Up, Down, and Round About:

The Hokey Pokey of Scriptoral Direction as Historical Curiosity

The way we read and write today—predominantly left-to-right (LTR) in the Western world—feels intuitive, but the history of writing direction is anything but straightforward. Ancient writing systems have employed a wide array of directional patterns, ranging from vertical to horizontal, right-to-left (RTL) to left-to-right (LTR), and even bidirectional systems that changed directions every line. The evolution of these systems reflects not only linguistic needs but also the cultural and material contexts in which they emerged. This fascinating history of directional writing is, in essence, a “hokey pokey” of shifting directions, driven by factors as diverse as ergonomics, medium of writing, and cultural preference.

1. The Earliest Writing Systems: No Fixed Direction

The first writing systems, developed thousands of years ago, did not begin with a standardized directionality. Early writing was often shaped more by practical concerns than by any inherent sense of direction.

Sumerian Cuneiform (circa 3000 BCE): Left to Right by Necessity

One of the earliest known writing systems, Sumerian cuneiform, was typically inscribed on clay tablets using a reed stylus. Early on, the writing was often arranged in columns, but it gradually evolved into a consistent left-to-right (LTR) pattern. The reason for this shift was largely practical—scribes found it easier to press the stylus into soft clay from left to right, a movement more natural for right-handed individuals.

Egyptian Hieroglyphs (circa 3000 BCE): Aesthetic Flexibility

Egyptian hieroglyphs were another early writing system with considerable flexibility in direction. Text could be written left-to-right, right-to-left, or vertically, depending on aesthetic or spatial considerations. The direction of the text was usually indicated by the orientation of human and animal figures, which faced the beginning of the line. This adaptability allowed scribes to arrange inscriptions in a manner that fit the layout of temple walls, monuments, or papyrus scrolls. Egyptian scribes did not follow a single directional standard, prioritizing the visual harmony of their inscriptions.

2. The Emergence of Horizontal Writing: Left-to-Right and Right-to-Left

As cultures moved away from columns and into linear script forms, horizontal writing direction began to standardize, although not universally.

Phoenician Script (circa 1050 BCE): Right-to-Left Writing

The Phoenician script, the ancestor of many modern alphabets, developed a right-to-left (RTL) direction. This RTL orientation was inherited by several other Semitic languages, such as Hebrew and Aramaic, and persists to this day. Writing on parchment or stone, particularly for right-handed writers, was easier when moving the hand from right to left, preventing smudging of ink or obstruction of the surface while chiseling.

Greek (circa 8th century BCE): The Boustrophedon Dance

Greek scribes, adopting the Phoenician alphabet, initially followed a right-to-left pattern. However, early Greek writing exhibited a curious form of bidirectionality known as boustrophedon, meaning “as the ox turns.” In boustrophedon, lines alternated direction: the first line was written right-to-left, the next line left-to-right, and so on. This system mirrored the plowing of a field by an ox, hence its name. By the Classical period, however, Greek writing standardized into the left-to-right (LTR) direction we use today, likely for ease of reading and writing.

Latin (circa 700 BCE): A Left-to-Right Tradition

The Latin alphabet, descended from the Greek, adopted its left-to-right directionality, a tradition that spread across much of the Western world. The Roman Empire’s dominance ensured that LTR became the standard for writing in Europe, influencing the future directionality of many modern scripts, including English, French, and Spanish.

3. Vertical Writing Systems: Up, Down, and Sideways

While horizontal writing became dominant in much of the ancient world, vertical writing was the norm in other cultures, particularly in East Asia.

Chinese (Shang Dynasty, circa 1200 BCE): Top-to-Bottom, Right-to-Left

In ancient China, early inscriptions on oracle bones were arranged in vertical columns, written from top to bottom. This vertical top-to-bottom writing persisted as the dominant style in Chinese script for millennia, particularly when writing on scrolls or bamboo strips. The columns were read from right to left across the page. This layout was practical for the materials used in traditional Chinese writing, such as vertical scrolls or bamboo strips bound together in a way that favored columnar text.

Japanese (circa 5th century CE): Adopting the Vertical Tradition

As Chinese culture and writing systems influenced Japan, Japanese developed a similar vertical writing system. Traditional Japanese texts were written in vertical columns, following the top-to-bottom, right-to-left column arrangement inherited from Chinese. Although modern Japanese can be written horizontally (left-to-right), vertical writing remains common, especially in traditional settings such as newspapers and literary works.

Mongolian (13th century CE): Top-to-Bottom, Left-to-Right Columns

One of the more unusual vertical writing systems is Mongolian, which is written vertically from top to bottom, but with the columns arranged from left to right. This unique system developed from the Uighur script, which was derived from a horizontally written Aramaic script but turned on its side. Mongolian remains one of the few languages today to use vertical text in this particular configuration.

4. The Impact of Medium and Writing Instruments

The evolution of writing direction was often influenced by the materials and instruments used for writing. Different media, such as clay, stone, papyrus, or bamboo, shaped the ergonomics of how scripts were written.

Stone and Chisel: Right-to-Left for Carving

When carving inscriptions into stone, right-to-left writing was common in many early systems, such as Hebrew and Phoenician, because it was easier for right-handed individuals to move their chisel from right to left without obscuring their work. Similarly, writing right-to-left on papyrus or parchment with ink prevented smudging.

Papyrus and Reed Pens: Flexibility in Direction

In contrast, papyrus scrolls and reed pens allowed for greater flexibility in directionality. Egyptian hieroglyphs, for example, could adapt to various directions depending on how the text needed to fit within a monumental inscription or scroll. The transition from vertical columns to horizontal writing on papyrus contributed to the eventual standardization of horizontal writing in many cultures.

5. The Bidirectional Experiment: Boustrophedon and Beyond

While most scripts eventually standardized in one direction, some ancient writing systems briefly experimented with bidirectional text.

Boustrophedon in Greek: A Writing Revolution

The Greek practice of boustrophedon, where lines alternated direction, was a fascinating but short-lived experiment. While it may have been practical for inscribing on stone, it proved difficult for readers, as the constant switch between right-to-left and left-to-right required mental adjustments. By the 5th century BCE, Greek writers abandoned boustrophedon in favor of the more consistent left-to-right format.

Alternating Directions in Other Cultures

Although boustrophedon was most famously used in Greek, similar bidirectional writing systems appeared sporadically in other ancient cultures. However, they never gained long-term popularity, likely because a single consistent direction made texts easier to read and copy.

6. The Legacy of Writing Directionality

By the time of the Roman Empire and the spread of Latin and Greek culture, left-to-right (LTR) writing had become the dominant standard in Europe and the Mediterranean. In contrast, right-to-left (RTL) writing persisted in Semitic languages such as Hebrew, Arabic, and Aramaic, and vertical writing remained a hallmark of East Asian scripts.

Modern Writing Directions

Today, most modern languages fall into one of three primary writing directions:

• Left-to-Right (LTR): Latin-based languages (e.g., English, Spanish, French), Greek, and Cyrillic-based languages.

• Right-to-Left (RTL): Semitic languages such as Hebrew, Arabic, and Persian.

• Vertical Writing: While less common in the modern era, vertical writing survives in traditional Chinese, Japanese, and Mongolian scripts.

The Hokey Pokey of Scriptoral Direction

The history of writing direction is as varied and dynamic as the cultures that developed these scripts. From the boustrophedon back-and-forth of ancient Greece to the top-to-bottom scrolls of East Asia, the evolution of directional writing reflects not only the practical concerns of writing materials and tools but also the diverse ways that human beings organize and interpret language. The choices made by ancient scribes—whether to write up, down, left, or right—have left an enduring legacy in the modern world, where directionality remains a historical curiosity woven into the fabric of writing traditions. Indeed, the evolution of writing direction is a true “hokey pokey” of cultural adaptation, as fascinating as it is essential to the development of human communication.

Chapter 6 - The Witch Doctor

Here’s what you’ve been missing on StarFall2029

“Wait!” Jonathan said, stopping Miley. The ghost drew close. Cold shot up his arms and legs. But he didn't run. He pulled the scepter from his pocket, engravings dark but visible lines clear. They wove in and out of being, such beautiful metaphors, such stirring meaning.

“They’re parables,” he whispered to himself, eyes widening. Without thinking more, he jammed down on the tree button. It lit hot-red-orange, piercing bright. That moment, the banshee wailed, erupting into the night, a wall of sound. Red, black, and pain engulfed Jonathan. It was an eternity. Then it was over. He was crouched on the ground beside Miley, hands pressed to his ears, head throbbing.

The ghost was gone.

The lines of the scepter now were entirely under-lit with a deep and vibrant green, except for Deep Waters - still blue - and the Tree now shimmering a faint ember. "True Roots," he said quietly. The fifth button, the square with the glory spilling out of it, blinked on and off in a soft purple but then faded into nothing.

“How did you...?” Miley began.

“No idea,” Jonathan shook his head. “I pushed a random button. Let’s go.”

***

Inside the El Tovar dining room, the large windows overlooking the south rim of the canyon reflected the roaring fire and the the dark beamed high ceilings of the lodge. Beyond, the craggy shadows of the horizon were nothing but an endless dark, stopping the sky and its litter of stars along jagged tracks.

Jonathan fell to pacing. A ghost? He didn’t believe in ghosts. But he did believe in evil.

Miley tapped rhythmically at the table, muttering over his notes. “None of this makes sense. This tablet doesn’t even exist online. Every trace of it has been wiped, even on Wayback.”

“It's all smoke and mirrors now,” Jonathan said, his Influins protocols working hard at the riddle. Deep Waters... True Roots. A split in the way, and an unexpected result? “This isn't just about some rod or a rock or a tablet. This is about symmetries and inversions. This is about Light and Darkness."

“There you go speaking Greek again. They're watching your every move through that thing, you know.”

“Maybe.” Jonathan traced the stone-like, raw metal with a finger. How did they make it do that? “Probably. But if they’re steering us, then that means they'll be helping us toward our goals. We know that they know. They probably know that we know. They will expect us to steer back." He pushed Deep Waters and exhaled as the dreamscape and vision powered down, leaving him in a very normal, very old room. "Right now, the tablet and the 'Deep Waters' here aren’t our biggest concern. It's whatever we just saw out there. I think I can promise you, it has a lot to do with where we're going tomorrow."

Miley leaned back, arms crossed. “And where is that?”

Jonathan smirked. “Hunting.”

Miley’s green eyes were watchful. “I won’t convince you to come to London with me without finishing this first, will I?”

"London?" Jonathan asked. “Miley, I forgive you for lying to me, but what an earth can you want in London?”

Miley chuckled. “I have a delivery to make. I think you'll want to meet the client.”

Jonathan’s gaze drifted to the fire. Ember light, like the Tree. A tree that always burns...but with what? Hellfire or holy? The answers would come. He leaned back, remembering the promises, watching the device, lifeless on the table.

The door creaked open. Silas entered, broad frame hiding the smaller park ranger who followed. He was young, with straw hair and a healthy beard.

Miley looked up, frowning. “Who’s this?”

Jonathan stood.

"Silas Graves, my man Miley Waters. And this must be your deputy. When do we leave?"

"Before dawn," Silas motioned. “This is Chet. He’s with me. He'll take you. Grew up around here. Knows the Canyon good as any white man. Also knows Tony, too.”

“Silas Graves, you say?” Miley said, getting up. He had that look in his eye. Jonathan didn't know what this was about. "The Outlaw? I was sent here to find you. 'Boss' sends a message. I'm just the messenger." He raised his hands in the air. "But it's all here, on this flash drive." He smiled, handing it to him.

To Jonathan's surprise, Silas pocketed it.

"It's been some time since anyone has used that call sign."

"Then you know how serious my people are. We're here looking for answers. If you try anything fast with us...."

"I thought these guys were here to help us?" Chet asked, stepping forward, looking to Silas with concern. "Keep local problems local."

Silas shook his head. Jonathan caught glance between them that silenced Chet. It clicked. Chet wasn’t just there to guide them. This was a political landmine for the park.

"You'll be headed onto tribal lands," Silas said. "Whatever you are running from or afraid of, it'll be here when you get back. Even a more dangerous game than our missing relic will be worth it, for Boss's sake."

Silas moved closer to the fire, the glow highlighting his weathered face. “There’s a medicine man. Old. Powerful. You'll understand when you see. It's not like the city or the movies. It's not like they want to think in their safe towers. The 'Spirit of the Canyon,' some call him."

Something more was going on. "There's history there,' Jonathan said. "There's a complication."

Chet, now leaning against the wall, nodded. “Tony doesn’t trust outsiders. He rather hates whites, and he doesn't even watch TV." His laugh was bitter. "But this wasn't a random theft. If anyone local knows anything about the tablet, it’ll him. Just don’t expect a warm welcome.”

Jonathan looked at Miley, who raised an eyebrow in return, and shrugged.

"What's in this for us?" Miley asked. "Even the tablet? Why is this our game?"

"I'm not sure yet," Jonathan said. "But something tells me we're about to find out."

***

The oppressive stillness of El Tovar gave way to the vast, untamed quiet of the canyon wilderness. Jonathan and Miley walked steadily behind Chet, flashlights cutting dusty beams through the predawn air, crisp and filled with the scent of juniper.

"This is Hualapai land," Chet said, confident in his stride. “'People of the Tall Pines.' Not as renowned as the Navajo or Hopi. They speak a dialect of Mojave. But Tony knows English well. He makes most of his money at the bar. Tourists love a gimmick."

"How far did Hualapai range?" Jonathan asked.

"This whole region was part of their traditional territory," Chet continued, his tone tight. "They stretched south and west along the Colorado River until Havasupai lands. Now, things are a bit different." He waved his flashlight. "There’s a cave up ahead. That’s where we’ll find him.”

Jonathan powered on Deep Waters, his unease in the wild flooded with a comforting overwhelm of lights, readouts and insights. Up ahead, his systems quickly locked in on a cave entrance where the faint glow of a campfire could be seen.

They approached but did not enter. Chet called out. It was an odd sound. Native. Jonathan caught fragments, but nothing he could understand. Moments later, a gravely cry responded within, rage and pain and howling.

“He sees us,” Chet said. “He'll be out in a moment. Do me a favor and don’t speak until I give the ok. Let me start the talking.”

Out of the cave stumbled a man dressed in what at first looked like rags, but as he came closer Jonathan saw that he wore a filthy Grateful Dead t-shirt and a pair of shredded cackies. His face was lined and weathered, his fine white hair pulled back in a ragged knot of a bun beside a massive crow that sat clutching to his shoulder. It cawed, lifting its throat to cackle, a sickly, wicked sound.

Jonathan’s breath caught. Through his Influins display he could see something more. The bird was not alone. It wasn't a bird at all. Its insides were glowing with a blue fire that filled its innards like an electrified spirit, roiling and inverting, running in waves down pools and rivulets through and over Tony. The medicine man appeared oblivious to everything except for Chet.

“Why do you come here, ranger?” His eyes burned. The blue fire around him grew stronger, pulsed.

"What do you know about the break in? What do you people say? My people need answers."

Tony’s eyes thinned. “Your people take what is not theirs, and then demand payment in return. What is taken will not be returned, this time. The dawn rises. The aeon changes.”

“We’re not here to take anything,” Jonathan said, stepping forward beside Chet, who shot him a frustrated look. “But perhaps we can help you.”

Tony’s eyes flickered with suspicion. “You carry something old, preacher man. Something not for you. Not for mortal men. You will see.” He laughed, and the raven cackled, pulses of lightning running wildfire through its wings and around Tony's beating heart.

How could he know? Jonathan's days in a pulpit ended long ago, in flames.

Jonathan did'n know what he had to do. But he pulled the rod from his pocket anyway, still glowing with a hidden green excepting Deep Waters' blue and True Roots' amber.

It was probably like a logic gate, or like trigonometry. Once he powered on a third point, entire new tiers of capacity would activate, natively designed for certain scenarios. But which should he choose? Rising Heat? The man throwing? Or what about that fifth, temporarily purple button, the square box of glory? That sure looked like Hidden Treasure. Would that be wise right now? Or what about the fourth button, the one Robert had skipped over, the head of wheat?

"I cast it against the darkness," he said, and activated the man.

There was a rushing sound. The entire user interface flashed into light speed, then jumped back again. It was instantaneous and invigorating. As the new light settled, Jonathan saw so much more than he ever dreamed. It was like another level of reality had opened up to him. In his own hands, his spirit ran with tendrils of fire dancing in the heartbeat of every breath. Miley and Chet too, though Chet was gray, diminished, weaker. But Tony?

Tony was not alone.

The raven was not a bird at all, but a second living head and attached to the tail of a massive, sluggish demon that wrapped its fat and fleshy body all about the cave. Its wormish maw salivated grossly only a few feet from Chet. Everything it touched hissed with acidic horror, smoking and contorting the air.

"Jesus," Jonathan said, his voice barely holding. He had never felt so out of control.

The beast screamed.

A golden wire of energy snaked out from the scepter in Jonathan's hands, wrapping tight like a noose around the bird's neck, a collar of lighting and fire.

It screamed again.

Jonathan shouted, "Jesus Christ!" He could barely hold the rod in his hands. It burned through his palms with a haptic energy until his forearms twitched violently. His face and chest pooled with sweat. He saw fire in the sky.

He would not let go.

Then, it was over. Everything silent. Tony collapsed in a heap, shaking under a seizure. Chet hurried to him. A crow cried out from the corner, cawing as it flew, the echo of a foreign world as it flapped away into the gray-blue horizon. The sizzling horror now evaporated as mists, drifting into nothingness even as Jonathan looked with wide understanding into Miley' far more frightened eyes.

"What happened?"

"You tell me."

Jonathan asked him. Jonathan’s jaw was tight. He had freed Tony, that much he knew. But from what? And at what cost?

“This doesn't get us any closer to the tablet,” Chet said, poking at the limp body with his boot. The medicine man groaned, and rolled over. His face was pale, but he was awake.

"Preacher man," he croaked, bitter wretchedness burning in his eyes. "What do you think you are? You haven’t saved me. You’ve only delayed it. It always returns. But now, until it does, I will go hungry and hope in parlor tricks. But you? Your hunt has only begun. The Moonstone, you suppose? But, oh, no. No. You play the most dangerous game."

Jonathan looked down at the rood in his hand. It had gone dark. Only Deep Waters glowed blue and constant.

He blinked three times. Hard. It worked. Vapors and lights snapped away. Insight and power diminished to nothing. He looked face to face in the eyes of a sad, old man. Not a demon.

"Jesus knows," he said. Then, he turned, and walked away.