Heroes of the Fallen

by David J. West

  “No, we will live off the land for the most part. It is spring, and it is nothing we have not done before in our youth. We will serve the city and the chief judge.”

  “I will not go,” he said. “There is no profit in it.” He shut the door on them.

  They stepped away from his door. Amaron frowned, looking at the list in his hand.

  “How many more do you have on your list?” asked Ezra.

  “There are seven more that I trust, as I trusted Jeremiah. If we can get six of them, we will have our company of ten. If we cannot, then I will go with less,” Amaron said. “It’s tradition for each captain to have ten men. I don’t want to break tradition, but it may be necessary.”

  They continued and got four more. They had to settle for the younger brothers of two.

  “That’s my ten men, eleven total. Let us prepare to leave in three days,” Amaron told them.

  Three days later they met at the appointed time and place near the southern gate, minus one.

  “Jacob told me he could not come and leave his new wife for so long,” explained Obadiah.

  “But you must have ten,” said Ezra. “You said it was tradition.”

  Amaron waved him off. “We need to get going, since we will be limited to our feet. I could not find enough horses to requisition for all of us, so rather than have half of us on horseback we will have to do without.”

  Near all the men except Ezra groaned at the prospect of having to march the entire mission. Daniel dropped a heavy pack and began casually tossing items into the street.

  “Maybe I can help,” Ezra offered.

  Amaron scowled. “What do you mean?”

  “I have a young cousin in Manti. I could ask him to join us. Then we would be ten.”

  “Is he a robber?” asked Amaron, strapping on his pack.

  “No, but his father fears he may become one when he gets a little older. So, it may please my uncle if we take him with us.”

  “Our route is not to Manti, it is to the west. Past Nephihah and the borders of Hermounts.”

  “We would lose only two or three days. He’s very good with a bow.”

  Amaron grimaced before speaking. “Alright, we will go to Manti and get him. If only to make sure he does not end up like you. Then we go overland to Eber then Nephihah.”

  The company began their trek south as the raven-haired woman and her big Nubian bodyguard watched them march out the gate on the southern road. She smiled with devilish white teeth showing behind ruby lips. Hands on hips, she squinted against the sun. “Let us make haste after them. I have an idea.”

  Father and son continued their own route south. It was a warm spring, and they were covered in sweat and dirt from the road. Forced to carry his son because of a broken leg, the father had left most of their valuables in the broken-down wagon. He still carried his great sword, breastplate, and winged helmet, along with a pack containing food and their bedrolls. Passersby ignored them, as though they were loathsome, poor or deranged refugees. The son wished to know why so many people would behave without manners or charity.

  His father answered, “The Nephites are a fallen people. They care more for riches and self-importance than in the matters of the gospel, of the soul, of the Lord. Many times, they gather and flock together like geese, honking and exulting on how they are so wealthy or worldly-wise. It pains me, but I suppose a part of me has grown numb to it after these many years. I care not for the respect of men. What matters is between me and my Lord, not men. Never forget that. I am not half the teacher Ammaron the Scribe is. But I know what it takes to serve the Lord. Never forget your faith and never forget your charity and hope in our Lord. That is the one thing in this world you can always count on, regardless of what the worldly-wise will try and instill upon you. The doubters must always have their say in trying to enlighten you to their way of thinking, of showing you the foolishness of faith. When that happens just smile and let them talk... let them damn themselves.”

  “I don’t know if I could be that harsh, to let people damn themselves. I want to help people, to teach them.”

  “Yes, you care too much.”

  “Like Momma?”

  “Yes, like Momma. You keep being like Momma. It will save you as much as any ten things I could tell you,” said his father as he stopped and adjusted the weight on his back. He was strong as any three men, but the boy was not so easy to carry day after day. Their progress was slower than he would have liked.

  “I want to say a prayer, Father, that you won’t have to carry me so far by yourself.” The father stopped and knelt, letting his son down to pray.

  They had only just finished when a farmer leading a slow wagon with two oxen came around the bend. “Hello there, looks like you got a busted leg,” said the farmer.

  “Yea, it’s a clean break though.”

  “Where you bound for?”

  “We are going to Zarahemla. My son has quite a bit of schooling before him.”

  “I was headin’ back up north but great blessin’s have been bestowed upon me here lately and I aim to return it to the L’rd an’ his people. Climb on in, and I will take you the day and a half back down to Zar’hemla.”

  “Thank you very much, but I don’t want to burden you.”

  “Father, accept a blessing when it comes,” said his son. The father grinned and helped him into the back of the wagon. The farmer turned the oxen about and began the journey south once again.

  “Name’s Jonas, interestin’ thing happened to me in Zar’hemla the other night.”

  Seeds of Evil

  Prince Aaron looked up at the sound of the laughter and saw a vile grin within a crimson shadow. The cruel smile revealed sharp teeth. Still laughing his terrifying dirge, the tall, large man approached. The piercing, volcanic-blue eyes behind the saber-toothed helmet added to his menacing look.

  Aaron admired the long sword hung at his side—glyphs decorated the scabbard down its length. It was rumored to be an ancient blade from long ago called Kadar-Lahab, the black flame blade of Coriantumr. Aaron wondered if the Gadianton Grand Master truly had the sword of the last of the Jaredites, the very sword that smote the head from Shiz the usurper. Aaron had heard the legends of old, perhaps if Shiz had not started a revolution against the Emperor Coriantumr, they would now be planning war against those people and not the Nephites, the descendants of their great father Laman's younger brother Nephi.

  Girded in bright, copper-scaled armor and a wide black and crimson cloak about his shoulders, he was a dark golden colossus. A lean, mahogany-skinned Lamanite with a fierce face and tall mohawk followed him, seeming to be the only man unafraid of the Gadianton Grand Master.

  Looking Aaron in the eye, the Gadianton smiled his horrid smile and stepped forward, alarming a foolish but brave guard. The guard raised a spear toward the Gadianton but the mountain of a man struck and caught the guard’s chest as would a great cat and jerked it free, letting the limp body fall. Bringing up his gauntlet he revealed talons like a fell beast. Gesturing back to the fallen guard he said, “Forgive me, I acted in haste,” then laughed in a deep cavernous tone.

  The king cried aloud with the commanding voice of his almost forgotten youth, “Akish-Antum, why do you soil my chambers and slay my guardsman?” His voice betrayed a hint of fear. To portray a virile image, he sat upright, pulling himself out of his typical slouch.

  “King Xoltec, Prince Almek, Prince Aaron, Princess Sayame.” Akish-Antum, the Gadianton Grand Master, greeted them with a bow. “I have come because of the fallen star, the sign in the heavens. I know what it means. It is not a sign of my arrival as some witless wonders would have you believe.” He eyeballed the now-shrinking Balam-Ek. “Know this, my city of Ushmael is more than a good week’s travel away. That I have come in connection with this star should be proof enough that I am a master of astrology, unlike those who waste slaves to learn nothing.” He glanced at Balam-Ek with a smirk.

  When the high priest frowned at him, the Gadi
anton spat at his feet. Balam-Ek stalked from the room, only to return a short time later to watch from a darkened alcove.

  “It does seem you know the stars, to be here so soon from so far away,” admitted the king. “But can you interpret these signs for me? Or are you as helpless as all the other soothsayers?”

  The Gadianton extended his palms before the king in a gesture of false supplication. “I tell you this. There is no eternal reward or forgiveness for wasting the dawn. We must make haste. Our long enemies, the Nephites, are preparing to move against us, to wipe out every man, woman, and child. First, they will strike and take Tullan the Golden, as it is closer. They may even coerce the Ishmaelites to join with them.” He left that thought to hang on their minds.

  “That could never happen. King Apophis is too ambitious, too proud and arrogant to ever join with the Nephites,” said King Xoltec.

  “It is possible. I have my second in command, a man of Tullan himself, on his way there even now to persuade Apophis of my plan,” spoke the Gadianton, low as his monstrous voice would allow.

  The king rubbed his jaw. “You have seen this all in the stars?

  “Yea, the energy of the planets affects us all. My interpreter informs me of many things,” he replied, producing from out of his cloak an infamous seer stone. It was a life-sized crystal skull with a moving jaw. Holding it in front of himself, he swept it in a wide, circular motion at nearly everyone within the hall, who responded with gestures warding off the evil eye.

  “How soon will the Nephites move against us?” Xoltec questioned, still skeptical.

  “They will come at the end of their growing season, late summer, early fall. We have almost six months to prepare for invasion or to strike ourselves.” Akish-Antum thrust the skull forward.

  “You speak of invading the Nephites upon their own lands?” asked Prince Almek.

  “I do,” grinned the Grand Master of the Gadiantons, staring into the skull’s hollow eye sockets. “I stand to lose my city,” he continued. “My Order has always existed, underground if need be—but my city could be lost... your gracious gift.” He saluted the king. “But you stand to lose all, if we do not act first.”

  “It seems I heard another foolish plan of invasion recently,” said Xoltec.

  Holding his crystal skull before the king, Akish-Antum said, “I see much with this, I can show you. Seer stones do not and cannot lie.” He moved in closer with the jaw ominously agape.

  Recoiling, Xoltec murmured, “Away with your black magic. I want nothing to do with it.”

  “What do you see, Stargazer?” said Prince Almek.

  “I see your future, Prince,” said the Gadianton, deliberately leaving off Almek's official title of crown prince. “King Xoltec, it is truth I speak. The Nephites are preparing soon for war, but together we can defeat them. The instigator is their chief judge and governor, Onandagus ben Nephi, and the disciples.”

  “Why not send your assassins to kill him and be done with it?”

  “If I cut off one snake’s head, another always rises in its place. We must burn the neck stumps before any other can rise up. All of them must be slain at once, their church must die. Here is the reality of the situation. This war is coming. Do you wish to fight it on your own lands where your people will suffer many bitter hardships, or in the Nephite lands, where your army can eat from the fruits of your enemy’s labors? If we strike quickly, we will catch them off guard. We will win this war together.”

  The graying king looked the Gadianton over, shuddered and said, “I know you have a wisdom beyond the understanding of mortal men, and that you wish for the destruction of our hated enemies, the Nephites.” he spat the name. “They think they have the birthright to rule over us, but they stole it. They call us dark-skinned, barbarian dogs, while their women cover themselves from our father Shagreel. They are the barbarians. They serve councils of fifty in wooden halls and travel everywhere with all they own like thieves. Nephites, bah! I say this, Akish-Antum, the most important thing I have never forgotten is that Amalikiah was a Nephite. He used flattery and wise words to dethrone my great grandfather of old, to become the king of my people. No, I will not allow you a position of authority in my army, because you are still one of them.”

  The great Gadianton drew himself up, not the least bit perturbed by the old king’s ramblings and prejudices. “Amalikiah was an opportunist and a flatterer, he received his just rewards at the hands of his enemies, and in the long run we all know he did not and could not end the noble line of the sons of Laman... your line. I may have Nephite blood in my veins, but I also have Zoramite blood and Ishmaelite and Mulekite and even a drop or two of Lamanite. Everyone today is so proud of their lineage, but I tell you this, we go back far enough, and we are all the same—fear the man not his ancestor. Are we not accountable for ourselves above any that have come before us? We must earn our own keep and make our own legacies. Amalikiah’s cursed name is not a legacy I want. Hear me, oh king, if you doubt my word send runners and spies up to the edge of Nephite lands. They will return and verify my word. That is, unless they are slain by the Nephites, further proving their hostile intent.”

  Standing tall in his own maroon and green hued elegance, Prince Almek called out, “My father the king, Rabbanah of Mutula, give me the honor of leading our armies.” He looked hopeful, and hungry as a starved dog with a full table’s feast before it.

  “You have not enough experience for such a military endeavor,” responded his father. Xoltec rubbed his troubled brow and pondered a long, quiet moment. “There will be no trickery here. Balam-Ek, dispatch runners and spies to verify Akish-Antum’s words before we mobilize. I would be a fool not to prepare for disaster when I hear it spoken of so often, and yet I must know I can trust these ill tidings.”

  “Of course, Rabbanah,” said the stout priest, casting an evil leer at the Gadianton.

  “What can you offer our possible alliance, Akish-Antum?” asked Xoltec.

  “As I have said, my second-in-command is negotiating with King Apophis for a force to accompany us. There will be a legion of Tultec troops to help accomplish our goals. My Order will guide the army on the best route to Zarahemla, the capital city. We will march north, avoiding the cities Desolation and Teancum. Taking secret paths my Order has prepared, we will swing around the Narrow Passage and come in from the wilderness to the west, surprising them on their own sacred doorstep. My assassins will slay all who oppose us and who oppose the establishment of a new king to rule over them. I will have men move into place who will declare a surrender. They will take control of the Nephite government in a near bloodless revolution. This will be effective nationwide. Perhaps some cities will oppose us, but they would be few. We’ll have the rest,” he said with a boastful air. “In the final stages, we shall divide the lands between you and King Apophis.”

  “Wouldn’t this make my kingdom vulnerable to Nephites coming here? If they are preparing to invade as you claim, I don’t want my army thousands of miles away.”

  “No, they would never come here when we hold them captive there. Besides I won’t need even a tenth of your army. A government will be put into place to keep the Nephites in line. We will rule them through fear, and, with their church dead, no one will oppose us. A new choice land for you to rule, with myself as governor, and I thank you,” bowed Akish-Antum.

  “I do not wish to split land with that serpent of the dark, Apophis,” muttered Xoltec.

  “There will be a truce only as long as necessary. You shall have greater land and armies to overcome him when you wish. But for now, and only for now, can I have your word on a truce with Apophis?”

  “You have everything ready, do you not? You merely await my word and his word.”

  “Correct.”

  “You have a good plan. We will ally with the Gadiantons and this force of King Apophis as soon as my runners return with word of the Nephite aggression. And there are to be no mistakes on who will command my armies. Perhaps Crown Prince A
lmek’s time has come. General Tubaloth will be sent as my military advisor and direct in line behind my son Almek as commander.”

  “As you wish,” said the Gadianton.

  Crown Prince Almek, eldest son of the king, smiled like he had just been given the world on a plate, a sumptuous feast for a starving man.

  The Gadianton Grand Master was granted a small wing on the south side of the palace. He and his fifty men occupied the entire wing. He kept a good portion for himself at the far end of the hall, where slave bearers carried inside enough equipment for a small house. A small band of fanatically devoted men came to Akish-Antum once his things were situated. The head of these devotees was named Uzzsheol, literally “Strength of Hell.”

  The deep voice of the Gadianton ordered his most trusted servant a special mission. “Xoltec will be sending his runners and spies to confirm the Nephites’ hostilities. Follow them, slay them all. Let none escape, nor let any find their bodies without a Nephite arrow in their ribs.”

  “I hear and obey, Evil Eye,” spoke the mohawked man without a trace of emotion. Uzzsheol was a man unparalleled in tracking skill. He had watched King Xoltec’s runners and spies closely to determine who was the swiftest and the strongest. All of these would fall under his knife and bow.

  Left alone, the Gadianton Master began to unpack his many belongings—maps, bottles of various substances that smelled of sulfur and exotic oils, and a huge skull with a double row of teeth, holding a tall, wide candle. The candle put off a powerful light, brightening the open part of his makeshift study, while casting the corners of the room into a deeper sense of darkness. The burning incense of distant lands filled the room. He took off his saber-toothed helmet and his crimson and black cloak and hung them upon the wall.

  The dark stone room was to his liking. With a prepared bowl of ocher, he drew a variety of glyphs on the limestone wall— ancient symbols of power from the age of Nimrod and his Queen, Semiramis. He liked them for the mystical ambiance they gave his quarters, and for the fear he knew would be upon the Lamanites once he left. Likely, they would never inhabit these rooms again and would forever set them apart as his for whenever he would return. His keen ears detected breathing right outside his thin door.