Heroes of the Fallen

by David J. West

  “I won’t hurt you, my prince. I am your friend, your counselor, your priest. Are you well enough to walk? To speak?”

  Aaron shook his head, realizing he could not speak. The words were in his head but would not come to his mouth.

  “You should have lied; you know your father well enough by now. You know his devotion to the idiot Almek.”

  Aaron looked at him angrily, as if to say ‘I did what you asked me to.’

  “It’s alright, we shall calm his nerves. I will have two slave girls called to bring him more wine and settle his nerves for the night. On the morrow, you had best say you were mistaken. No matter what the Vision Serpent really told you, say it was of Almek’s greatness, not your own. Do you understand?”

  Aaron nodded, and Balam-Ek patted his head and helped him to rise. The boy slumped again, only to be forcibly picked up by the stout priest. “Can you speak now?”

  Aaron again shook his head.

  “Let me look into your eyes,” said the priest. He stared for a moment, forcing Aaron into better light at the far end of the room. “You seem alright except for your speech, which should return to you soon enough. You should have lied, I thought you would. If there is anything a Gadianton is good at, it is lying.”

  Aaron looked sharply at him and shook his head, mouthing silently.

  “What, you’re not a Gadianton? I thought perhaps, with as long as you studied with Akish-Antum... I thought he would have taught you to lie by now, it is his trade.”

  Aaron struggled to stand, bracing himself against the wall.

  “You are hurt, but full of spirit. Perhaps I should have pledged to serve you rather than another, but what oaths are made and done, cannot be undone.”

  Aaron wondered who the priest meant. Someone besides his father?

  “I will see that Sayame cares for your wounding and your hurts. Come,” said the priest as he led Aaron down an adjoining hall where Sayame waited. Aaron had the feeling she had been eavesdropping on them for some time.

  “I am here my brother, what happened?” she said.

  Balam-Ek looked at her. “Care for him gently, Princess Sayame, for he cannot speak.”

  “He cannot speak? What did Father do to him?”

  Balam-Ek looked down at the beautiful, willowy girl and, without responding, he walked away into the deep night.

  Aaron could not express to his sister the cryptic things Balam-Ek had said nor what his Vision Serpent had said.

  “I will care for you until you recover my brother. I will never leave you, as our mother left us with that madman.” She held him close and wept in the darkness. “I will never leave you, never, ever. Together we will go to the high places where you will rule.”

  He held her as tight as he could with broken fingers.

  She prayed aloud, “Goddess of wonders, see through my eyes. Heal my brother, that he may fulfill his dark destiny. Hear me, hear me Zilonen and if not... let me fly far away from here on a burning star.”

  Aaron wished he could respond to her, but he hurt too much to make even a sign. In time, he knew, he would learn all there was to rule. Laman’s design would not be thwarted. He would do all that Akish-Antum had asked of him and more.

  I am the wrath and when I am ready there will be our revenge. I will cleave my path through their armored bodies like a sickle at the harvest. No one to hold my ark steady but mine own hand. I will take this entire vast land, and it will be one under my terrible reign.

  Sayame cleaned his wounds and bandaged his cuts, put tobac leaves upon his bruises and sprinkled holy oils over his brow. A fever took hold soon thereafter and she sat by him every day, wiping him down and muttering prayers. The slaves were chased off and not allowed near the boy prince, all tasks were hers alone. She burned sacred incense to cleanse the room of evil spirits, and when she thought he was asleep, she wept.

  Why him? The only pure soul in the world, why should he bear the burden? My brother is the one who will someday redeem us and let us triumph over our enemies.

  “Anything I can do for you, Princess?” asked Balam-Ek, startling her.

  “I asked to not be disturbed,” she said icily.

  “Of course, you did, but it has been a week. Either the boy is going to pull through or he won’t. You can’t change anything at this point. Think of your own needs.”

  “How dare you! Priest though you are, it is not up to you to bandy about words as if he is nothing special. He is the prince and he will be made whole. He will rise and my father will sorely rue the maltreatment of his son.” She stood and pointed at the door.

  Balam-Ek grinned. “Of course, Princess. I thought you needed to know, but I will come back another time and tell you of your father’s plans for your marriage.” He ducked out the doorway.

  She gasped and, mouth agape, chased him out into the hall. “What are you saying? I demand you tell me this vile news!”

  Smiling devilishly, Balam-Ek began, “I was not supposed to break the news yet. If I tell you, you are to say nothing to anyone. Do you swear to me you will remain silent about this news until your father brings it forth first?”

  “I swear by Zilonen I will be silent. What is this marriage? I won’t have it... whoever it is, I will not have it!”

  “Your father has confided in me that he means to marry you to the Gadianton Grand Master, as a means of securing a permanent alliance with that host,” said Balam-Ek, glancing furtively down the hallway.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Princess, it is no secret how much I despise the great Gadianton. Why would I wish such a delicate flower as you upon this monster? I serve the king and I want a strong, secure lineage for our royalty. At this point, nearly anyone would be a better match, don’t you think?”

  She frowned. “I want no man. No man!”

  “Of course, I am not trying to push anything or anyone upon you, just making an observation. Have you seen how Nu-Bak-Chak looks at you or even Tubaloth? They could be fine suitors don’t you think?”

  She screamed, “Votan’s heart! I will take the man who thinks he could marry me to the grave!” Running back to Aaron’s room, she slammed the door.

  Balam-Ek remained in the hall, alone and smiling. Time to go and tell Xoltec that his daughter planned to run away and marry the Gadianton Grand Master. A similar reaction would ensue, with neither willing to speak directly to the other. No matter how difficult or unpredictable some people could be, once you found their strings, they could be played upon to create gloriously discordant music.

  Finding the Higher Ground

  In Zarahemla, the public outcry at Mazeroth’s arrest was soon put down. Two dozen or more of his followers were arrested and imprisoned. These actions by Mormon and Onandagus averted the riot from getting worse. Many rabble-rousers were less inclined to risk being thrown into prison after seeing the swift judgments that befell their comrades. The prisoners were housed in a three-hundred-year-old jail built before the sign in the heavens.

  Mormon the Elder lamented that night. The situation in the city was getting worse every day. He wondered why he was here. Should he leave and go on to the peaceful east? No, he must stay for his son’s education and the call of duty.

  Zarahemla was more than ten times the size of Antum. When Mormon was a boy, Zarahemla had been a beautiful, peaceful city. Now it was a corroded shell of its former self. When he moved his family away from Antum, they had been the last members of the Church of Christ, the last who respected the old ways. He took it upon himself to burn the temple of Antum down so that it could not be further vandalized. Since his wife died, it was the only time his son had seen him shed a tear.

  “Commander?” The voice brought Mormon back to the present.

  “Yes?”

  “Is something troubling you?” asked Gilhi, the guardsman.

  “No more than usual, Gilhi,” he said, shifting the weight on his wide sword belt.

  “I want to let you know that the rioters are all sec
ured. I am amazed at the construction of the holding cells, they are so old and yet so strong.”

  “Never underestimate what our forefathers knew over what we in our day know. It would amaze you, the things I have found out,” said Mormon.

  “I do not doubt you, sir,” said Gilhi. Barak, another young guardsman, appeared behind and nodded in agreement.

  At just over fifteen, Gilhi was the youngest man allowed to become a guardsman. The older guardsmen told him that he had seen more action these last few months than they had for the last few decades. It was an exciting time to be a guardsman.

  “At the end of your shifts, be sure you are relieved by competent guardsmen we know and trust,” said Mormon. “I will return. Watch and pray.”

  “Watch and pray,” repeated the two guardsmen.

  It was a quick, brisk walk from the jail to the judgment hall. Already, workmen had cleaned much of the burned debris away. The stone of the tower and most of the walls still stood while the insides had been gutted by the voracious flame.

  Mormon saw Onandagus and his men standing under the canopied roof of the garden walkway. The white lattice-covered wood was overgrown with grape vines, remaining as a place of peace. Onandagus was conversing with the big white Lamanite as Tobron and Samson stood watch and kept the curious away. The chief judge would answer nothing until he himself knew everything.

  Tobron and Samson parted for Mormon and then closed ranks as yet another spy crept closer to inquire about the white Lamanite. Samson stomped his foot at the man, who turned and fled. Samson was almost as big as Zelph, and all in Zarahemla knew to give him a wide berth.

  Mormon stood with his brawny arms across his chest. “Well?” His bushy, red-brown beard flowed in the breeze. His ice blue eyes burned into Zelph did not look intimidated.

  Onandagus introduced them. “Mormon, this is Zelph, son of Qof-Ayin, great-grandson of Samuel the prophet. He brings dire news, a confirmation of all our fears.”

  Zelph extended his hand and Mormon extended his own and gave the bigger man an iron handshake. The white Lamanite gave as good as he got and the two let go with satisfaction on their faces and red hands.

  “Akish-Antum, the Gadianton Grand Master has manipulated the Lamanites to war. Even now they march here,” Zelph said.

  “Here?” exclaimed Mormon. “I had expected if such a thing were to occur, they would assault Desolation or Teancum first.”

  “They avoided all other cities so that they might better surprise you here, near the center of the land. They hope for a quick, easy victory through surprise and deceit. They went around Desolation and the narrow pass. I could not be more than three or four days ahead of them at the most.”

  “How many are there?” Mormon asked.

  “Fifty-thousand Lamanite and Ishmaelite warriors, and untold numbers of Gadiantons who are helping to sneak them through deserted and little-known roads.”

  “Rumors on the streets make it sound like there could be a legion of Gadiantons inside the city already,” added Samson.

  Onandagus spoke to Mormon, “It cannot be a coincidence that they are striking this month.”

  “No, it can’t. So many followers of the church are to be here this holiday weekend to give thanks and commemorate the landing of Lehi upon the Promised Land. They must hope to murder us all in one fell swoop,” said Mormon, unconsciously holding his sword hilt tight, ready to pull it forth. “They would be able to end the line of priesthood they so despise, end the very way of life they loath, end the right of choice and liberty.”

  “We could spread word for the followers of Christ to stay away, but the Gadiantons would find where many reside and slay them eventually. I fear we must make a stand here and now,” proclaimed Onandagus. “Perhaps this is the endgame where we must stand and fight or be blasted from this Promised Land as the prophets of old have foretold.”

  “If that is how it is, I shall make an end of it,” declared Mormon, drawing his sword. “There are enough good men-at-arms between here and Gideon. Let me muster them. They will heed the call. I will not allow the few innocent to be harmed by these devils.”

  “Very well, we shall call everyone we can to come unto Zarahemla and be protected within its walls. You, Mormon, shall ride west and gather all that you can. I will send Gidgiddonah to Gideon, he has family there. Lehonti can go to the village of Joab just northwest of here. There may be some good men there as well. Tobron will go to Manti and alert the captains there,” said Onandagus. “Before you all go however, I will have you assist me in conferring the holy priesthood on our new brother, Zelph. He will be one with us.”

  “Are you sure? He has only just arrived. Meaning no disrespect to you, Zelph, but I don’t know you,” said Mormon. “And how does a Lamanite from the south speak such perfect Nephite? You sound as if you were born here.”

  Zelph pulled a small brown stone from his medicine pouch. “One of the Three gave me this. He said it gave me the Tongue of Fire, that I would understand all languages. It is to help with my mission.”

  Mormon still looked suspicious.

  “It is all right, Mormon,” said Onandagus, gripping Zelph’s massive shoulder. “He has been baptized by water and fire with the three disciples and has been introduced to our Lord. He is clean, he is pure, he has been changed.”

  “I see the skin but thought perhaps you were born different.”

  “I was not born like this. My hair was black, my skin a deep copper. I am changed, true, but more so on the inside. I understand more than I ever did before, and I am ready to progress on my mission.”

  Mormon nodded as he and Onandagus laid their hands upon his head. Tobron and Samson assisted as well as witnessing. Afterwards they all went their separate ways. Zelph and Onandagus were the only ones to remain in the city that night.

  “Now accompany me, dear brother Zelph, as I will try to awaken a sleeping people of the mortal danger that threatens them,” said Onandagus.

  Zelph followed out onto the streets of the city, where the Avenue of the Eagle met the Avenue of the Ram. It was a wide, busy intersection, and a host of people were already there. Many stopped when they saw Onandagus getting ready to speak. He stood upon the upturned cart of a friendly merchant.

  “Hear me, oh people of Zarahemla, we have little time. The Lamanites and Gadiantons will soon be upon us. You must repent or we shall be wiped out as a people. A grave day of judgment is at hand. It is a day of doom for the wicked among us. We must repent and turn our lives around and come back to the Lord.”

  Many people stopped to listen, but few understood or were prepared to heed. Many scorned Onandagus as he stood before them. Their hatred of his perceived goodness was their driving force of will.

  They cried out, “Old fool!”

  “Our walls are strong enough to withstand the naked savages. Who can defeat us?”

  “Our steel and iron is greater than those barbarian clubs of stone. We are the greatest nation in the world, no heathens from far away could ever defeat us.”

  Onandagus stopped for a moment and Zelph said to him, “Perhaps I should ascend the wall and speak to them as well.”

  “Do what you can, my new brother.”

  Zelph went toward the city gates to speak and help to spread the word. Onandagus continued, while the crowd gathered, larger but no friendlier. Judge Hiram appeared at the forefront, watching with a dark frown upon his face, eyes set in a blaze.

  “Repent, repent, the army of doom is at your very doorstep seeking to enter and devour whomever it may. I wish that you were all my children that I could usher you inside to my arms and protect you from this ravenous beast,” continued Onandagus over their calls of disdain.

  “Silence, you doom-sayer!” cried Hiram. “Again, with your tales to frighten children—we won’t be afraid of your lies anymore. Be silent I say. We will not be fooled into being slaves of your false religion. Rule your own house with fear but do not seek to rule ours.”

  Onandagus continued,
undisturbed, “Repent and prepare, my people. Hold to the Iron Rod of God’s salvation. Able men of righteousness should prepare their families and then report for duty to help guard our city.”

  “Nay!” cried Hiram. “You are a teacher of lies and false traditions, stop trying to frighten us into obeying you. We are wealthy and happy, let us be.”

  A few men up front listened to Onandagus and began talking of going to help defend the wall.

  Hiram shouted at them as well, “Do not listen to him. He is a false prophet. Go back to your homes. No one is coming to harm us.”

  Some in the crowd began taking sides in the debate.

  Onandagus addressed Hiram. “If I am a false prophet, tell me of any false prophecy I have ever given. Tell me, dog, of my ever cheating any man or telling any lie. No, you cannot, for I am spotless before the likes of you. I have wronged no man and unlike you, I have cheated no one, so be silent and let these people, my people, judge for themselves what they will do.”

  Stepping down from the cart, Onandagus approached Hiram and whispered into his face, “You child of hell, your time is going to come. You cannot serve the lord of pain and expect to go unrewarded, unpunished. Now begone.”

  Hiram fell silent and slunk back into the alleyways.

  Zelph stood upon the walls of Zarahemla and spoke as Samuel his father of old had done. “Behold, I am Zelph and I do speak a word of warning to this people. Hear me and do forgive my weakness with words. For though the Lord has put these things in my heart, I am but a man like yourselves. A sword of destruction will fall upon this people within four days. Blessed are those that will repent, for they shall be saved. Nothing will save this people except repentance and returning unto the Lord. If this great city will be saved it is because of the few righteous within it. Join with them, repent, and hearken to the words of the Lord God. I pray you will heed me, and this destruction will be averted.”