Lies … deception … trickery … privilege … right to rule … It was all bleeding together in his mind, a fluid mix of thoughts, concepts, and stories intermingling with one another and in some cases doing battle. Who do I believe? Where do I find the truth?
Some of what Kumen was doing was wrong, that much he was sure of. But was all of it?
I need answers.
His mind still whirling, he rolled over on his bedding and, slowly despite his weariness, drifted off to sleep.
When he awoke, he knew what he had to do.
* * *
It was raining again as they broke camp, thick, heavy drops cascading down from the grey, pre-dawn sky. Mathoni was thankful for it. After the prior day’s exertions, the moisture felt wonderful against his skin, like it was cleansing every bit of dirt and sweat he’d picked up over the last few days. The ground was muddy underfoot, slowing their pace as they moved out, but everyone was secretly glad. Difficult conditions would be suffered by both armies, and anything that delayed Teancum and his forces even a small bit was welcome.
Even more welcome, the heavy rain would make it harder for Teancum’s scouts to see how far ahead their army was if they broke into the open. The thick sheets would conceal them.
They would also conceal him.
It wasn’t hard to break away from the army. With everyone so concerned about keeping pace, Kumen hadn’t even bothered to establish a rear guard. Mathoni simply excused himself from his battle brothers to relieve himself and … didn’t come back. All he had to do was duck behind a tree and wait for the sounds of the army to fade.
It didn’t take long. By the time he stepped back onto the old road, his battle brothers were invisible through the sheeting rain. He closed his eyes and let out a long, shaky breath.
He’d done it. He’d successfully deserted. He was a coward. A worm.
He didn’t care. He’d known what his course of action was to be the moment he’d awoken that morning. He could not stay in an army that served Amalickiah. He still didn’t know if he was king by right, by skill, or perhaps by treachery … But what he’s having us do, what his captains are saying … is wrong.
He turned. North. That was what Shem had told him. To the land of Melek. There he could find the truth of what had transpired during the great betrayal, of what had happened to the old king and those who had followed him.
Maybe he was heading into a trap. A life of servitude. He didn’t care. He had to know. Somewhere out there, someone knew the truth. About the war, the great betrayal … everything.
Someone out there, perhaps, could help him find the answer.
“Mathoni!”
He almost shouted in panic, spinning on the slick road to see someone running at him.
“Antiomno?” He shook his head. Of course his friend would notice he was missing. Of course he would come back looking for him. They were brothers, not in blood but in spirit.
“Mathoni,” Antiomno said, coming to a stop in front of him and gasping for breath. “You’re … You’re leaving?”
He nodded. “This war is wrong, or at least what I’ve seen of it. The killing, the slavery, the treatment of our captives … It’s all wrong, Antiomno.”
“How can you be sure?” his brother asked.
“I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “But I cannot be sure it is right either, and I am far more certain that it is wrong.”
“Where will you go?” Antiomno asked spreading his arms and gesturing to the jungle around them.
“North,” he replied. “To Melek. To meet with the brethren who followed the old king.”
Antiomno’s eyes went wide. “But the betrayal—”
“Was not what we think, I believe,” Mathoni said. “I spoke with one of the prisoners last night. He told me the Nephite’s version of events.”
“And you believed it?”
“I do,” he said. “You know my uncle.”
“Yes.”
“I asked myself why he never spoke of what transpired, or what happened to my father. Now …” He let out a sigh. “Now I know, and I am afraid if I do not do this thing, I may share his burden.”
Antiomno seemed stunned, his mouth flapping open and shut as if he couldn’t decide what to say. Then he squared his shoulders. “Very well then,” he said. “Where are we going?”
Mathoni shook his head. “Antiomno,” he said. “You cannot come.”
“What?”
“You have a wife. Children.”
“But …” Antiomno’s face fell. “You and I … we’re brothers. We’ve always been there for one another. We joined, together. We leave? Together!” There was a slight crack in his voice.
“No,” Mathoni said, shaking his head and placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You know your family comes first. You would say the same in my position.”
“I … You’re an utter fool!” Antiomno let out a muffled yell of frustration. “You’re right, however. I must think of the needs of my family.” He let out a short, bitter chuckle that soon turned into a real one.
“You’re lucky, you know,” he said.
“How?” Mathoni asked.
“You’re not married,” Antiomno said. “You can do this without guilt.”
A laugh tore itself free from Mathoni’s throat. “You are, as usual, correct,” he said.
“As are you,” Antiomno said, letting out a sigh. “If you feel you must do this, brother, then may the Great Spirit be with you in your quest.”
“And may the Great Spirit be with you,” Mathoni said. “May you return safely to your family once this war is over. Perhaps one day, when this is all over and done, one of us will find the other again.” He bowed, dropping low to the stone. “Goodbye, Antiomno, son of Laban. Stay safe, my brother.”
Antiomno returned the bow. “Farewell, Mathoni, son of Opher. You as well, my brother.”
They clasped wrists, locking each other’s hands around one another’s forearms, looking one another in the eye …
And then it was done. Antiomno turned and began to jog down the road, moving quickly to catch up with the army. Mathoni didn’t know what story his brother would tell when he returned to assuage his battle brothers or even Kumen, but doubtless it would be believed. Antiomno had always been good at talking his way out of trouble.
He turned and began to stride up the road, heading north. It wasn’t long before he spotted the eyes of a forward scout regarding him from the jungle, and he lifted his open hands as a sign of peace. The scout vanished. Not long after that the army of the dreaded Teancum appeared out of the rain like a ghostly apparition, its warriors almost silent despite their size. Mathoni untied his cimeter, held it out for all to see as the army approached, and then dropped it to the ancient road.
He wouldn’t need it any longer.
“I am Mathoni, son of Opher,” he called as the army approached. They looked surprisingly human, if large and dangerous. Also suspicious, but there was nothing he could do about that now, save prove his only intent. “I am a Lamanite,” he said as they drew closer.
“And I wish to be taken to my brethren in Melek to find the truth.”
His lot was cast. And as he stood there in the rain, the mightiest warriors his people had ever know surrounding him and questioning him, he realized something.
He didn’t know where his path was taking him. Nor what he would find. But he did know one thing.
It felt right. And that was a sign enough.
The Afterword
Right, now you’ve read it, and now I can tell you. The setting in For Glory is not my own creation. Some of you may have guessed at that already (at least one shrewd Alpha reader caught some of the ancient connections and put most of the pieces together), but For Glory is a religious story, biblical in nature. Specifically, it takes its setting from The Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ, a book of scripture detailing God’s dealings with the inhabitants of the Ancient Americas. More specifically, For Glo
ry places itself smack in the middle of the wars of the book of Alma.
Now, how much of it is from scripture and how much of it was my own creative interpretation? Well, there were a few creative exercises made. I have no idea if wooden armor was the armor of choice, as the record never makes mention of what the armor both armies used was made of, only that it was possible to “split” it with a heavy blow. And I don’t know if there was a raiding party driving that far deep into Nephite territory that fled at the sight of Teancum’s forces, though the book does mention that they did have problems with Lamanite raiding parties doing similar.
The names, however, are all accurate (though most of the characters in this story were fictitious), as was the history between the two peoples (though I’ll admit that the version of events Mathoni was told was only inspired by what little the record gives of the Lamanite perspective). The cities and armies were recorded places, as were the various factions and power plays within the two kingdoms (the rise of Amalickiah, for example, is back-stabbing tale of political intrigue and power plays worthy of a whole novel on its own). Teancum and his army were in fact, part of the war, and were greatly feared by the armies of the Lamanites. If there are other errors in accuracy, then they are my mistake, but I did my absolute best to keep For Glory consistent with its source material.
So, why write a story in this setting, of all places?
Well, first because I feel that the setting has been underutilized. Even inside the culture of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, the religion that holds the book alongside the Old and New Testaments as a work of ancient prophetic scripture, there have only been so many attempts at actually utilizing it as a medium to tell a fiction story. Many, yes, but personally not nearly enough.
And from a personal standpoint, even stories that do, did, or had planned on using any sort of religious backing as a setting for their work often fall into the trap of preaching to the choir or acting as a sounding board for the religion in question rather than using the source as a wonderful setting for a powerful story, which quite often renders the work less approachable to those who don’t subscribe to the faith the author is writing about. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with stating one’s beliefs, but quite often many of the religious fiction works I’ve picked up (not just from one faith, mind) are guilty of shoving them at the reader without letting them question, consider, or ponder on it. Often while being far too keen to tell the reader “Hey, listen to what I’m saying!” and piling as much religious reference on them as possible and ruining any nuance in the story.
I didn’t want to do either of those things. I’m a man of faith, yes, but I’m also wise enough to understand that not everyone shares my beliefs. I didn’t want a story that pushed its beliefs and morals so hard that those who didn’t share them would walk away, disinterested. I wanted something that was approachable.
For Glory, then, is what came of that goal. A story about a young man heading off to war and running up against questions. A story about someone coming to the realization that perhaps something in their life isn’t what they thought it was, and that maybe there was something better out there worth pursuing.
Ultimately, it’s a story about faith. Not the easiest of topics, I know, but I wanted to tackle it all the same.
And you know what? I think I did all right.
Ending Notes
Congratulations!
You’ve reached the end of Unusual Events! Thank you for reading, and I do hope you’ve enjoyed my work. If you can, please leave a review on Amazon.com to help others know what you’ve thought about the book! Every review—love it, hate it, or somewhere in-between—is a way for readers to get information back to me as well as to other prospective readers of my work, so if you think others may enjoy my work, tell the world!
Additionally, if you’ve enjoyed this work and would like to see more, you can find me, the author, online at my site, Unusual Things. There you’ll find weekly writing advice, links to other works, information on forthcoming releases, and other things both fascinating and amusing.
Again, thank you for purchasing and reading Unusual Events. It’s due to the support of readers like you that I can continue to work at the job I love. You make this possible for me, and I want nothing more than to continue to do deliver more of the best stories, novels, epics, and writing advice that I can provide. So again, thank you.
And I’ll see you next time.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Max Florschutz was born in the small town of Wrangell, Alaska, in 1986, and from an early age displayed a most prodigious imagination—something that would later become a vital component in his storytelling. During his teenage years he worked on commercial fishing boats, saving the money that would pay for both his college education at Brigham Young University and fund a two year, volunteer mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
Returning to BYU after his mission, he continued furthering his education, taking a variety of English classes from a number of teachers, including best-selling author Brandon Sanderson. In 2010, Max transferred to BYU Hawaii for his final year before graduating with a degree in English and Business Management in 2011. After a brief stint in the video game industry, he returned to writing and published his first book in 2013. Emboldened by that success, he pushed forward, and embarked on the career that has continued to thrill him and hosts of readers around the world ever since.
You can follow him at his website, Unusual Things, for news, guides, and information about his newest works.
Table of Contents
A Brief Foreword
Flash Point
Monthly Retreat
Kitchen Creature
The Graveyard
A Miner Haunting
Ripper
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
Vacation
Workday
SUPER MODEL
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
For Glory
Unusual Events: A Short Story Collection Page 46