They went uphill a little further until the ravine widened and leveled out. Here it was only about ten feet deep but almost twice as wide as it had been farther downstream. A tiny trickle of a stream coursed through it, smaller than the one by their camp. Easing down the steep embankment, they dropped to the bottom. They crossed over, and when Ezra was almost halfway out, Reuben tugged on his foot.
“Look at that.”
Behind them and just up the ravine as it bent around the hill was what appeared to be a great stone doorway. It was visible only from this angle.
“No one could live here could they?” asked Ezra.
“I don’t see how. This ravine is freshly cut, only a month or so ago. See, there are tiny, young plants growing within,” observed Reuben.
Slowly approaching the doorway, Reuben drew his bow and nocked an arrow.
“What are you afraid of?” Ezra asked.
“I don’t know, it just seems strange is all. I got a weird feeling.”
Rough uncut stone had been placed together with such perfect precision that it was as if it had been masterfully fit from a mold. It formed a corbeled arch over the doorway. The door itself seemed to be basalt stone with large metal hinges green with age. It was a couple of feet taller than they, and almost six feet wide. Roots dangled from tiny cracks within the cyclopean masonry, attesting to its grand age.
“Do you think we can move it?” said Reuben.
“Do you think we should? It looks ancient, and it could be dangerous,” remarked Ezra.
“You are the one who told Captain Amaron we would find something.”
“Yea, but I thought perhaps a farm we could barter with, not an ancient tomb.”
“Maybe it’s not a tomb but a storeroom. It could have salt, wheat, and corn inside.”
“It looks too ornate for a mere storeroom,” said Ezra.
“Should we look inside or leave it alone, then?”
“I don’t know.” But curiosity got the better of Ezra. “Let’s see if we can even budge the stone.”
Putting his bow down, Reuben got beside him and each pushed to move the stone door. Even with their combined strength, it barely inched to the left.
“Let me get something for leverage.” Ruben walked away a short distance, scanning the ground for anything useful. He found a branch almost six feet long and a few inches thick toward its base. Wedging a piece in the narrow opening, they were able to move the stone door another few inches, enough to put a thicker piece of the branch in farther and repeat the process. It took each man straining with everything they had to open it about six or seven inches.
“I think there are stones wedged behind the door, and that’s what we’re pushing against,” Ezra suggested.
“Well, reach your scrawny hands in and move them,” said Reuben, wiping sweat from his eyes and brow.
“What if there are snakes in there?” Ezra’s expression was ashen from the straining and from his innate fear of serpents.
“What if there are snakes in there?” Reuben mocked, “No, I can feel cool air from inside. It would be too cold for them. They are all out in the swamps.”
“Alright, alright,” said Ezra, getting down on his knees before the door. He reached around and felt behind the door, reaching as far as his shoulder would allow, only half the distance of the door’s width. He pressed close and could feel the dry coolness from inside. The floor within was worked with smooth flat stone.
“What’s blocking the door?” Reuben asked.
“Just a second, I can’t reach whatever it is... feels like sticks. Here, I have some.” As he pulled out the debris, he dropped it in horror. They were bones, human bones. “Arghh!” He got up and wiped his hands furiously on his torn silken breeches.
“Calm down, it’s a tomb then, ain’t it? What did you expect? You were the one who said it was too fancy for a storeroom,” laughed Reuben.
“I didn’t expect that.”
“Any treasure has probably been washed away in ages past. Still, we could look, eh nephew?”
“I don’t know. It seems wrong.”
“Seems? Ha, of course it is, but what did you think? Looking in a tomb was a noble idea?”
“You agreed to it,” countered Ezra.
“Yea, I did, but I didn’t think it was alright. Still, I have no compunctions about stealing from the dead. They won’t use the gold, and I can,” laughed Reuben. “I’m more concerned about how much I can carry without the others suspecting anything. I don’t think we could ever find this place again.”
“Let’s go back and talk to Amaron about it,” said Ezra.
“Alright, we can share with him, but only him.”
“What are you talking about? There might not even be anything in there.”
“Oh, yes there is. You disturbed some poor soul’s bones, some poor Jaredite is up in heaven or down in hell saying, ‘Hey, my bones is moved, lemme at him who disturbed my grave!’” Reuben laughed.
“Have you really quit drinking?”
“Haven’t had a drop in over a month now.”
“Alright, let’s go get Amaron.”
As Ezra walked into camp, he drained the last of his water skin. He spoke to Amaron alone. The others were spread about the campsite, dozing from the mid-day heat.
“We found a tomb I think.” Reuben lagged a short way behind but nodded in agreement as he arrived.
“A tomb?” Amaron responded.
“Yea, it looks very old. Do you want to look?” said Ezra, ready to turn around and go back.
“Did you go in? Where is it?” Amaron asked with curiosity.
“Near a freshly cut ravine between the two big hills a little off to the north. It is deep and seems to have washed out the tomb,” replied Ezra. “There were letters or glyphs on the threshold, but I couldn’t understand them.”
“Let us go and investigate then.” Amaron put on his sword belt and grabbed Judah’s stout spear.
Returning to the tomb seemed quicker than before. It felt stranger than ever, with an eerie feeling of being watched surrounding them like an enveloping mist. The door was high for even Amaron, who stood a foot and a half taller than Ezra.
“It is Jaredite. See these glyphs? They did not write as we do,” said Amaron.
“Can you read it?” asked Ezra.
“I might if it were Lamanite or Ishmaelite, then I could get the gist of it. But these marks I have never studied.” He reached out his hand to feel the cool gray stone. “I don’t know what it is, but there is something about this tomb,” he said warily.
“We felt it too,” said Reuben.
“But still, you tried to open the door.”
“Uh, yea we did.”
“Let us push the door shut, I don’t think we should disturb it,” said Amaron.
“I, uh, got these from within.” Ezra pointed sheepishly at the few bleached bones laying a short way from the doorway.
“Put them back, and let’s shut up the tomb.”
Ezra gingerly picked up the bones and placed them back behind the door. Each man exerted himself on the stone door and it shut. Amaron pulled a pen and ink set as well as a small scroll from his pouch, to write out the glyphs on the doorway. “I will show these to Onandagus. He will know what they say and whose tomb this is. Another good storm could collapse these ravine walls and fill this in, so that no one would know it was here.”
“That’s a shame. There is probably a lot of gold in there,” said Reuben.
Amaron glared at him. “Do you realize what you said? Desecrating a tomb is not the way an anti-Gadianton should behave.”
“But what if it is not a tomb? What if it is an ancient library or storeroom?” said Reuben.
“You saw the bones, Reuben. They don’t keep those in libraries,” smirked Amaron. “I recorded these signs for Onandagus to interpret. If it is worthwhile and there is no war, let us return to see what we may.”
“I’ll mark some of the trees so we can remember this sp
ot,” said Reuben.
“Fine, but don’t be too obvious about it. We don’t want anyone else noticing and following them.”
“What should I do then?” asked Reuben.
“Make random cuts about two feet from the bottom, we will know what they are but no one else will.”
They walked back to camp while Reuben made his marks on various trees.
As evening came on, Amaron fell into a deep sleep. The night blew in and dark clouds covered the sky, wiping away any remnants of the bright sunny day from earlier.
Amaron was awake and yet asleep. He found himself standing before the tomb, and it was neither day nor night. The sky and landscape was a charcoal that went on for eternity. All the forests and swamps were swept away as if the tomb were on a great lonely plain. The door was open, and a tall majestic man stood within. He wore a long white robe and had a golden crown upon his head. It was set with brilliant jewels the likes of which Amaron had never seen.
The king’s eyes burned, and his voice was as a great roaring wind. “Son of a once great but now fallen people, behold, vengeance cometh speedily upon the inhabitants of this nation. A day of wrath, a day of burning. A day of desolation, of weeping, of mourning, and of lamentation cometh. And as a whirlwind it shall come upon all the face of this nation and upon thy house shall it begin and from thy house shall it go forth. First it shall come to those among you who have professed to know the Lord and yet have not, those who have blasphemed against the Lord and those who love not their fellow man. Now is the day when the sands have run out on this people. Thou hast been shown and thou must heed or be burned as stubble. When the chosen of the Lord is shown, thou shalt sustain and serve him. Always be true, a sword of justice and mercy thou art. Be true, and the gates of hell shall not oppose thee, Lion of the Lord. Be true. I am Orihah. I have spoken to you on behalf of the Lord. Be true.”
Amaron felt himself taken up by the physical hand of Orihah and from on high he looked down on all the lands he knew. He could see the wickedness of his people, a wickedness he had seen many times and yet ignored or had not perceived. The fires of Bountiful were great and they lit up the night sky. The nation of the Nephites was at an end.
“It will be just as it was with my people. The unrighteous will be wiped from off this Promised Land. This vision is for thee alone. Be silent about it, be true, be the sword of the Lord when called. Be ye ready for the sacrifices of all those who are righteous. The Lord will not suffer his servants to be ground under the heel of this people’s wickedness longer than they can bear. You are to help ease these burdens. Be the Lion of the Lord,” proclaimed Orihah. Then he let go of Amaron’s hand.
Amaron found himself back in his bedroll, on familiar ground, as dawn was about to break. The fire crackled next to him, warm on this cool morning. The mists from the swamp seemed like smoke to him, like the fires of doom called down upon a wicked people. It billowed all around him.
“It was a dream,” he said.
“What?” asked Daniel.
“Nothing, it is nothing. Have you made any tea yet?”
Daniel grunted in the affirmative.
“Good, let’s have some and be on our way. We have a good long way to go to get home.”
Prayers, Oaths and Curses
Within the palace of Xoltec, weak candles burned, giving off a pale light. Incense filled the room with its sickly-sweet aroma. King Xoltec and Balam-Ek, the high priest, needed to discuss Prince Aaron’s vision.
The prince waited impatiently for them, his mind wandering. A bat swooped into the room, chasing down a moth before flitting back outside into the night. The eyes of the boy followed the swift winged thing, thinking he was like the moth, seeking light and glory only to be snatched up by swift winged death.
“So, speak my son, what did the Vision Serpent tell you? What is your destiny?” asked Xoltec in unusual humor.
Aaron looked at the floor, lost in the intricate limestone patterns. The Vision Serpent had said that it was he, not his brother Almek, who would be the great king of the Lamanites. Aaron, the younger brother, would be Laman’s revenge.
“I... it was not important,” stammered Aaron.
“Not important? Nonsense,” boomed Xoltec. “You had a vision, did you not?”
“Yes, Father, but…”
“But what? If you had one, it is important. The Vision Serpent speaks the truth, it speaks of destiny and duty. Duty to your brother,” Xoltec said, swinging his scepter about absentmindedly.
Balam-Ek rose from his stool. “Aaron, you have been endowed with the sacred priesthood of Baal. You are being trained in the arts of war, you have a mission set before you. Even if you are young, the youngest I have ever endowed and trained, you must be ready. It has been done and cannot be undone. You had a vision, you have an obligation to tell us, your king and your father, and your priesthood head and your friend. Tell us what you were told.”
“I do not want my father to be angry with me for what I have to say.”
“Why should I be? Duty is destiny, and your destiny is your duty.”
“Yes, but…”
“But nothing. Speak to us, your elders, of your vision so that we may better understand the gifts of the spirits and the will of the gods,” shouted Xoltec.
Balam-Ek encouraged him. “You have overcome the crocodile pit and danced the dance of the gods. You have drunk the divine nectar. You are one of us. Speak of the vision’s message.”
“The Vision Serpent said to me, ‘Behold, wrath is coming to the world’. I asked who it was speaking of, and it said it was I,” said Aaron.
“The Vision Serpent said this?” asked Balam-Ek, as Xoltec’s face darkened.
“No, the man from inside its mouth said this.”
“An ancestor? Who was it, do you know?”
“It was Laman, our father of old.”
“What did he say next?” prodded the high priest.
“He spoke of me and said that I would bring wrath to the world. That I would become his greatest son.” Watching the doubt on his father’s face he added, “I speak the truth before you. He said I would destroy the seed of his brother Nephi, our enemies the Nephites.” Aaron hoped this last part would ease the anger he sensed was building.
Xoltec stared a moment at his youngest son and the fires of hatred burned in his cold eyes. “Liar! Blasphemer. You, who are nothing, less than the dirt under my feet. You are as dust,” screamed Xoltec. There was madness in his eyes, a dark light that flickered with malevolent fury. Throwing his wine goblet across the room it clanked and clattered to the floor, spilling the wine.
Xoltec strode to the boy. “Trust no god and trust no woman, my father taught me. Both will rule you if they can and take you in the darkness when you are not looking. You are the same, but oh, I am wise to you.” He beat Aaron, hand over fist like a furious ape.
Balam-Ek watched, immobile for a short moment before interceding and putting his hand on the king’s shoulder. “My king, please. What if the boy is telling the truth? At least as he understood it.”
Xoltec kicked the boy once more in the head. Glaring hot fury, Xoltec turned to Balam-Ek, ready to strike. The high priest smiled and removed his hand, unafraid.
“What do you mean? The boy is a liar, anyone can see that. He mocks my dreams, he seeks to steal his elder brother’s honor. He is just like the forefather of the Nephites… the trickster Nephi who sought dominion over his elder brothers, our forefather Laman!” said Xoltec, panting and out of breath. “His Nephite name has cursed him to be a new reincarnated Nephi seeking to steal honor from his elder brother. Crown Prince Almek, my eldest son, is the Laman of tomorrow, not this vile usurper with the cursed Nephite name.”
“You must have honor for anyone to steal it,” said Balam-Ek, under his breath.
“What?”
“Nothing, my king.”
“I know his heart and it does not have my blood. No, it is evil. He was born to a dark star. His mother, my most belove
d wife, was consumed by him at his birth. I was a fool to not have him slain and left to the beasts. It was Qof-Ayin who staid my hand, my righteous hand of vengeance. He said if I loved her so much, I should not take out my anger on the innocent child of her womb. I know not why I listened to him.” Xoltec scowled at the prostrate form of Aaron on the floor.
“It was for Sayame.”
“What?”
“It was for Sayame, your daughter. She asked that you spare him, don’t you remember? Qof-Ayin held the boy while your grief was calmed. The princess begged you. I remember, I was there,” said Balam-Ek.
“And now you, too, seek to spare this demon-son’s life?”
“My king, I exist only to give counsel. Aaron was initiated through me. He danced the dance, he drank the drink, he dreamed the dream,” said the priest with an expectant look on his broad, bearded face.
“Has the whole world gone mad?”
“Rabbanah, I only serve, and I am telling you, Aaron has a purpose. What it is, I do not know, but it would anger the whole pantheon of gods for you to slay him. They have a vested interest in him. I am sure he spoke the truth as he understood it. Perhaps he misunderstood.”
“Perhaps he is a liar,” thundered the king. Aaron still lay curled into a ball on the floor. Bruised and bloodied, he was barely conscious. He was breathing but otherwise motionless and silent. Aaron had never known how close he came to death at birth. It gave him a new appreciation for the dead Qof-Ayin and his sister whom he loved so much.
“Well then, what could it mean? How could he be the wrath of the world? He is lying. He is not half the warrior his brother is,” shouted Xoltec, throwing his arms in the air as he paced. “I am tired of this and don’t want to think on it anymore. I retire to my chambers, send a slave girl,” said Xoltec, as he walked out.
“Which one, my king?”
“I care not.”
“It shall be done,” said Balam-Ek, watching Xoltec stumble off.
The boy whimpered in a faint, sad way that reminded the priest of a trampled dog. Kneeling over him, Balam-Ek spoke, “How do you feel my prince?” He shook him a little, and Aaron struggled to prop himself against the wall and sit up. His face was smeared with blood and an eye swelled. His head ached from the last kick Xoltec had given him.
Heroes of the Fallen Page 30