“I understand, oh king, and let me put it this way,” spoke Teth-Senkhet. “You want what the Order wants—the end of an independent Nephite nation, and the end of the usurper’s priesthood and religion.” The lean Gadianton gestured with arms wide open as he spoke with great conviction. “The destruction of our enemy and their very way of life is our goal. You are a young king with many years to come. Xoltec is an old king, and Almek his eldest son will be heir to absolutely nothing. Xoltec is weak. The old bag of bones will not last much longer, and the heir won’t last much beyond that. We shall see to it. We in the Order believe you are the strong one that should lead a united Lamanite-Ishmaelite nation.”
“And what of your master Akish-Antum? What must I give him in return for your help?”
“You will have to acknowledge him as the true Supreme Grand Master of the Order of Gadianton.” Teth-Senkhet knew he had struck a nerve with the king. He looked over at the brooding captain warily as he waited for the king’s reply.
“No, I was endowed by my father. My line is pure down to Gadianton himself. I can trace a continuous line back more than three hundred and fifty years to the first of the Order. Can your Grand Master do that? No, he cannot. I know that when Yod He Vau came, the Order was broken up and lost among all the Nephites. But you should know as well as I, that one or two of us did survive and kept this forbidden secret. Why should anyone else lay their hands upon me and claim to give me a fullness of the Order which I already hold? I am a Grand Master myself, and regardless of what they say, I hold something purer and more direct than yours can claim. I can count back seven generations, seven direct men who have ordained my father and before him to the beginning. Anything Akish -Antum holds is debased and has passed through countless unnumbered hands. It is a mockery. Did you know that throughout the years under the dominion of the disciples of Yod He Vau, the Nephite Gadiantons did not even administer the rights correctly for over thirty years? You should know and respect these things, brother. You should join me.”
“Acknowledge Akish-Antum, and you will be king of the world.”
“Ha! King of this half of the world. You have been gone far too long to think me so ignorant. You insult me. I know very well of Rome and Cathy. I know of Thule and Errin, and of course Egypt and Israel. You think me an ignorant savage,” laughed the king without a trace of humor.
“It has been a long time since I have seen you. I left Tullan some thirteen years ago,” admitted Teth-Senkhet.
“Acknowledge me as your own Grand Master. We were once blood brothers and now you serve a Nephite!” roared Apophis in grim derision.
“Do not say that. He is a Gadianton. No one living is more dedicated.”
“He is a pale white dog!”
“Even you would not say that to his face. White his skin may be, but his heart is blacker than the abyss of Gehenna.”
“But—” Apophis meant to speak, but Teth-Senkhet raised his hand for silence and the king allowed him to continue.
“He is my master, and what he has chosen to give me I cannot refuse. He is the head of the Order and he, in his great wisdom, has placed me as second overall Gadiantons everywhere, save those under you here in Tullan and its lands,” he said with a calm firmness.
“What of Mutula and the people of Xoltec?” scoffed Apophis.
“Yea, even Mutula is under his dominion. Years ago, he brought all the head Lamanites to bend the knee or lose their heads. But now, you are asked to bend the knee only as a member of the Order to Akish-Antum. You would still be king of all the lands.”
“I would be king of the earth and Akish-Antum would be my spiritual head. I do not know if I could bear that as yet. I will meditate on it.”
“I think you will find it a worthwhile trade.
“Another problem with your plan…” Apophis began.
“Yes?” asked the Gadianton.
“There is another heir besides the Crown Prince Almek. Another son.”
“Yes, there is one more legal heir of Xoltec. Aaron, the one with the Nephite name. He is young.”
“That never stopped me,” smiled Apophis, as he recalled his first murder. “At the age of nine, remember I fought a group of boys within a back alley of Tullan and knifed one. I spoke of it to no one save you, Teth-Senkhet, my best friend. Inside, I was very proud of myself, for they were many and I was one.”
“I am no prophet,” began Senkhet, watching the king’s reaction, “but the other son is of no concern, because there is also a daughter.”
Apophis looked up at him sharply and grinned. Senkhet continued, knowing he had captured the king’s complete attention. “Her name is Sayame. As your friend and blood brother, listen to me now if ever you would. If and when it is offered to you, accept her hand in marriage. Take her to wife.”
“If I took her now, I would be honor bound to Xoltec as his son-in-law. I would lose my inheritance in all but name. Your plan is insane,” grumbled the king, frowning at his strange advisor. “I thought you meant for me to insult the old man one last time, not be subservient to him.”
“Nay,” cautioned Senkhet. “Not if the old king is gone so soon, as well as his appointed heir.”
“But the other son, this Aaron...”
“Do not worry. As she is the older sister, the birthright of kingship would fall to you. If you let Aaron survive, he would be a figurehead lord at best.”
“I have a large beautiful harem, what need have I for Xoltec’s daughter?” snorted Apophis. “Could we not simply slay all of Xoltec’s children rather than having to sully myself with this intrigue?”
“I have been saving these thoughts, waiting to see what you would do with our other offer of an invasion alliance,” said Teth-Senkhet. “A royal union would do you well.”
“I have already told you I care not for your intrigues. Out with it, why should I care for this Sayame?”
“She is very beautiful. She would give you fine sons, which none of your harem has been able to do yet.”
“True,” said Apophis, frowning. It was the one thing to give him pause to his own superiority. Apophis was anxious to have relief from his secret shame. “How can I know she could do this for me?”
“Akish-Antum has seen it in his crystal skull. It is an interpreter. It is never wrong.”
“I need to know that Xoltec and Almek will be dead and buried soon. I do not wish to be bound too long to that old crocodile.”
“All you need do thus far is supply me with good warriors. I will take them to meet up with Akish-Antum. We will journey northeast and by secret ways take them to Zarahemla to destroy the Nephite leaders. When the time is right, disaster will befall Almek and Xoltec. With Xoltec’s daughter as your wife, you will gain a kingdom without having to lift a sword.”
“Who shall I send with you to Zarahemla?” spoke Apophis, grinning.
“We could use your good spear-men that perform the phalanx. They are the best trained of all forces,” answered Teth-Senkhet, unable to conceal his pleasure.
Turning to his tall, green-eyed captain, King Apophis commanded, “Anathoth, you will command our forces and accompany Teth-Senkhet. You will also personally make sure that Prince Almek dies by any means necessary once the invasion is under way.”
Captain Anathoth nodded and knelt at his king’s feet, with one knee almost touching the ground and one arm raised to the square, while the other arm was held tight to the breast in a V shape. He said nothing, for this was the sign of the Henew Rite, a sacred oath, and no words were necessary. The king knew that no matter what happened, Anathoth would follow his orders or die trying.
“It will not be a problem,” said the Gadianton. “Akish-Antum has planned how and when all things shall come to pass.”
“Anathoth will see that your promises are kept. When will this Sayame be my bride?”
“Soon enough, I swear it,” said the Gadianton.
“Good. Because if things do not happen as you say, I will burn you as I did these stubbor
n scribes, friend or no,” said Apophis coldly, gesturing to the great bonfires far below them.
“I understand, oh king. We are at a crux of ages. Soon enough your dreams of conquest will come to pass.”
Getting up to stand upon the raised dais of his throne, Apophis held his arms high and proclaimed in a loud voice that carried far upon the black wind, “That which was forgotten by my fathers of old is remembered in me. My sword will rain fire and blood. Let the world tremble before me. I am Nab Narayaw, the Lord of Terror. I am Apophis the Destroyer. Soon to be king of all our people and even those dog brothers the Nephites.”
When night fell on Tullan, the dark was held at bay by leaping red bonfires of oak and sage. Only the ancient sacred tree in the center of the city was safe from burning as Apophis, the serpentine king of Tullan, declared a holiday for the people. Everyone heard the talk on the bustling streets, that the time was ripe for the conquest over their hated brothers, the Nephites.
Newly appointed General Anathoth was silently inspecting his troops. He knew his men would not be as well armored as the Nephite soldiers, but he had great confidence in their courage and ability. Due to the heat, his people disliked wearing much clothing or armor, but they did weave together a formidable wall of reed and leather shields and long brazen spears. Such a system had proved to be incredibly efficient whenever they had fought against great numbers of robbers or against the sons of Lemuel—or Lemuelites as they were called—the people who lived to the northwest.
Even the brave fighters of King Xoltec could not stand up well against the Ishmaelite phalanx. Anathoth remembered that the phalanx was not originally an Ishmaelite system. His father, Joram-Baal, taught the armies of Apophis’s father, Apep, the system he had learned from the crafty Zoramites. The Zoramites had never been a numerous people but they were very cunning, excelling at business and trading and also in manners of war. True, there were not wars to fight during the golden years of peace under the Christ and his disciples, but the Zoramites kept hold of the records of earlier days. They learned war-craft from the Mulekites which were mingled with Spartan blood, and they knew the way of a warrior society. Modeling themselves both from Sparta and Jerusalem, the Zoramites made either good friends or dangerous enemies.
Zoramite mercenaries were more than happy to have a hand in helping Joram-Baal learn the art of war and he, in turn, would teach his people, the Ishmaelites. All these things were done when the other peoples, the Nephites and the Lamanites, were still ignorantly disputing who produced finer silk or made costlier jewelry. Modeled upon the Spartan warriors of old, the Ishmaelite Tultecs became a force to be reckoned with, conquering vast tracts of land for such a small population, while the Zoramites sat back content with the chaos and gold they earned from it.
A typical Tultec warrior carried a shield, a short scimitar or club of razor-sharp obsidian, and a ten-foot spear. Most carried slings and short, stout bows as well. If the warrior was designated a full bowman, he would carry a minimum of fifty arrows and all the tools he might possibly need to make more while on the march. A skin pack bore their simple supplies in case of medical emergency, as well as a few days’ worth of food and water.
They were trained to eat as they marched, devouring whatever foodstuffs they came across in the field, forest, or even desert. Water could be harder to find, so each man carried the bladder from a good-sized animal. These had been cured and processed to the point of being very durable. They trained hard for battle, and thus far they had massacred all opposing city states within a thousand miles except for King Xoltec’s. It would be a bitter herb to swallow to now join forces with the Lamanites.
The Lemuelites were deemed beneath notice because of their lack of organization as fighters. They lived like total savages and never built cities or stayed in one spot for more than a month. Nomads all their days, they were considered both ignorant and dangerous. If anyone could ever organize them, they would become a frightful host. They had never yet come under the rule of a single chieftain who could lead them in effective numbers. Even Yeasues, a most capable chieftain, had not been able to unite the Lemuelites, and if he could not, then who could? Anathoth’s war-craft was almost exclusively learned by fighting the barbaric Lemuelites in small skirmishes.
Overhearing the conversation between the king and the Gadianton, Anathoth did not think the Lemuelites could ever be organized, which was just as well. Let the Lemuelites stay out of this one, let them continue following the migrating bison in the north. Let them stay a thorn in the Nephites’ side, at least until there were no more Nephites.
Anathoth’s legion looked well, he was proud of his men. They were his men, and he was the king’s man, and that was how it went. The drums of the night grew louder as the heavy throb signaled the evening’s event nearly ready atop the pyramid of the moon. He could remember as a young boy seeing the old king, Apep, Apophis’s father, burying men alive within the structure as a sacrifice to their dark and bloody gods.
Lost in the past, he was startled by a hideous scream. A man in line to be sacrificed, possibly a Lemuelite from the borders, had awoken from his drugged stupor and realized his horrific fate. The screams of his mortal terror were unnerving to even a hardened warrior like Anathoth. He did not enjoy the spectacle that pleased so many of his people. This was not a way for a man to die, nor for a man to kill.
A shaven-headed priest hit the man in the back of the head with the butt end of a spear, knocking the poor fool unconscious. The malevolent rhythm of the drums beat on.
Anathoth turned to go, his duties for the evening completed. He went hardly a quarter of the way down the street and retched. The sickness of the scene found its way inside him, and he had to release it.
“You do not care for this, do you?” spoke a voice.
Wiping his mouth on his forearm and hand, he looked up at the shadow before him to see the Gadianton, Teth-Senkhet.
“Yea, the sacrifices and theatrics of Menares, the priest, are not my nail to hammer,” said the warrior with a grim smile. He would not want to look weak in front of this Gadianton, but neither would he lie.
“And what would be?”
“Ha, this is no game or show to throw away men’s lives for. I am a warrior, I prefer to shed a man’s blood face to face, spear to spear, and sword to sword. I have captured many men who have found their way here to die like dogs for the savage amusement of fools and hypocrites. But I have found no honor in it nor anything to ease the shame at such an end as they have received,” he said, with both shame and dignity. “The priests would have us believe the sacrifices are necessary to appease the gods in times of drought and famine. I have watched. It makes no difference from year to year. But still the priests say the gods call for more. I have never heard a god say, ‘I want more’. They do not listen; they do not hear. I will no longer swear by them, it is meaningless. I no longer believe in gods that want more.”
“Then, what do you believe in?”
“Only this,” he answered, holding out his moon-shaped knife. “This has never failed me.”
“Then why have you served your king to such an end as this?” asked the Gadianton.
“The only reason I do any such vile work—I have given my word to serve my king. My honor is all I have, aside from my wife and soon to be child.”
“What about your loyalty to the priests and counselors of the king?”
“I serve only the king and his word, not the priests. They speak of the traditions of our fathers, how they must be strictly upheld. It is all for naught, in my lifetime alone, they have changed numerous things. If there is a god or spirits for them to listen to, the heavens are as brass over these men.”
“You are an interesting man, Anathoth. There could be a favorable place for you within the Order,” mused Teth-Senkhet.
“I appreciate your interest in me, but I could never go against my king.”
“Very well, I understand. Loyalty is something highly revered in the Order, though hardly f
ound. We depart in a matter of only a few short weeks. I will say nothing of our talk to anyone.”
“It does not matter. The king knows how I feel. I doubt he cares what the priests say any more than I do. The High Priest Menares on the other hand, would be outraged if he knew. He would probably claim he could put faith into my heart if only he could cut it out for a little while.”
The Gadianton chuckled but said nothing more. He nodded farewell to Anathoth and disappeared back into the shadows.
Looking back at the black pyramid, Anathoth was overcome by the stench of burned flesh that threatened to permanently fill his nostrils. “This is wrong,” he said to no one.
But another besides the Gadianton heard him.
King Apophis gloated over the scene of carnage like a hungry demon of carrion. Seeing the bodies heaped up like a dunghill before him made him feel honored. Standing like a dread lord of the apocalypse, he cried aloud in exultation as Menares pulled forth the last beating heart of a hundred lost souls. “Hear me, people of Tullan the Golden. Your king is well pleased, your god is well pleased. The food, the blood of the sacrificed, has sated the hunger of the gods for this season. Soon I shall make the rain to fall and the sun to shine forth upon my everlasting throne of blood. So, shall it be! I, King Apophis, son of King Apep and the Goddess of the Jade Skirt, do hereby declare our righteous war against the despicable usurpers, the Nephites!”
The crowds went wild with reckless abandon, filled with blood lust. The mob mentality had the crowd calling for more sacrifices and an even gorier night. Waving his hands about wildly, Apophis tried to quiet them. “Hear me, my people! Our invincible armies will join with those of the people of Xoltec, King of Mutula.”
The crowd quieted except for a few surprised murmurs. They had been getting prepared for the eventual war with Xoltec for some time. Some shouted in derision.
Heroes of the Fallen Page 10