Heroes of the Fallen Read online

  Tobron directed Zelph into a copse of trees for them to camp for a few hours. The oaks, elms, and pines were alien to Zelph in this new land. Still, it felt like home more than Mutula ever had.

  Zelph asked Tobron, as he rolled out his blanket upon the tall grass, “You mention their great secret, what is that?”

  “I know their secret… I have been fighting them long enough. It is to turn life into property, all life—people, animals, trees, everything. Nothing is sacred to them, because it is all property to be bartered with. They will even barter men’s souls if they can. Lord knows so many poor fools have already done that, some don’t even realize they have chained themselves to the hold and keel of the devil’s ship. They row for their new master who carries them farther and farther away from home.” Tobron paused and looked out at the stars.

  “Even in my city of Manti,” he continued, “always a good city, the vices grow. The mind -altering mushrooms are everywhere, called sacred by some, but I trust not the thing that dulls men’s sense and destroys their life’s ambitions. There are men in Manti, former friends, who cannot get by a single day without that all-consuming need. And don’t even get me started on the harlots.” He paused and looked sheepishly at his new friend. “Forgive my rants, Zelph, I am a man who has seen too much. Someday soon I will take my family away from Manti and go somewhere safer.”

  “Where is that?” asked Zelph.

  “I don’t know. I wish I knew. Yet, one cannot live with his head buried to the ills of the world. There must be a balance somewhere, and I am trying to find it. We have talked of building an Order together somewhere to the east.” He pointed through the trees toward the band of stars in the east.

  “An Order?”

  “Yes, a United Order where family and friends can work together to build up God’s kingdom on earth. We can worship together and not deal with the wickedness all around us here. The time is ripe. If we do not do something soon, we run the risk of our children having nothing to do with the gospel. The evil of men is more prevalent now than I ever remember. It is getting harder to do the right thing,” said Tobron, casting away a twig. “Something evil is on the wind… it calls.”

  “I understand all too well,” said Zelph.

  Tobron looked away to the night sky before rolling over into his wool blankets. “If we have the speed of the Lord on our side, by the end of tomorrow, we will be in Zarahemla and you will meet Onandagus, the best man I know in all the world.”

  A Grim Road

  “This is a grave turn of events. How could this have happened?” demanded Prince Almek. His forehead contorted wide avenues of new wrinkles, trying in vain for an answer he could accept.

  “He seeks even now to go to the Nephites and warn them of our plans. He is a traitor,” said the Gadianton Grand Master, “just as his father was at the end.”

  “Nonsense! Qof-Ayin is no traitor, and neither is Zelph. He would not betray me. Couldn’t your tracker find any trace of him?” asked Almek, grasping for any kind of explanation other than this one proposed by the Gadianton.

  Rubbing his strong chin then cracking his knuckles, Akish-Antum said, “Uzzsheol lost the tracks over thirty miles away from our camp.”

  “Lost them?”

  “Yes.”

  “How, a river? How could he lose them? Ravenous beasts? The Nephite army?”

  “No, the tracks disappeared at a rock face,” answered Akish-Antum.

  “Is your man that unskilled? Zelph must have climbed up the rock face. I am appalled at your tracker’s failure that you are trying to pass off as Zelph’s treason.”

  Akish-Antum choked back a laugh. “Uzzsheol can track a fish through the sea. He could follow a cloud blindfolded. He has stalked tigers from your jungles that go from tree to tree. Men are nothing in comparison. You would sooner lose your head from off your shoulders than Uzzsheol lose someone’s tracks. No, something happened, his tracks vanished.”

  “That’s impossible,” shouted Almek.

  “Even so, if Uzzsheol says the tracks are gone, they are gone and not a man on earth can recover them.”

  “Can I speak with him?” asked Almek with a hint of annoyance in his tone.

  “If you wish,” he responded, equally annoyed.

  Stepping out of the big maroon tent, the Gadianton Grand Master returned almost immediately with the hawk-nosed Uzzsheol and the general of Tullan, Anathoth.

  “Why is he here?” muttered Almek.

  “He commands legions. He must be privy to all scenarios and possibilities in the field,” said the Gadianton.

  Although Anathoth could speak the Lamanite tongue perfectly, he felt no need to let the foolish prince know that. He looked on as if unaware of the tension.

  Teth-Senkhet, the second-in-command of the Gadiantons, entered with a scrolled map under his arm. Almek’s chief general, Tubaloth, an imposing warrior of renown, followed him in. Tubaloth, a hard-faced man, bowed to his prince and stared coldly at the others.

  Teth-Senkhet unrolled the map before them on Almek’s ornate table. “Show us, Uzzsheol, where you were.”

  Scanning for a moment, the mohawked warrior traced his gnarled finger along their trail and over toward the steep and craggy hills that Akish-Antum had led them around. It was beyond the legendary narrow pass. “Here we traveled around Nephite cities, and here I followed the big man. He walked twenty miles in the night over rough ground, I respect his stamina,” said Uzzsheol.

  “Get to the point,” said Almek.

  Uzzsheol stared at him a moment before continuing. “He stumbled twice, then went to sleep. When he awoke, he chased a deer, a five-year-old buck, for ten miles. He came to a cliff face and stream of water and disappeared. The deer drank water and went into the forest to sleep.”

  “Go on,” snapped Almek.

  “The big man is gone from this world. He has powerful medicine, some spirit came and took him somewhere else,” said Uzzsheol, grim as ever.

  “Impossible, you lost his tracks at the cliff face. Did something else get him?” babbled Almek.

  “I did not lose the tracks. They stopped. Something spiritual took him.”

  “Are you afraid of spirits? Is that your excuse?”

  “I am not, but I respect them,” said Uzzsheol without emotion.

  “Anything else?”

  “Yes, I did see another man after this. He was short with balding hair. He said I would not find the big man, Zelph. He told me I should repent and join the pacifist Lamanites who dwell in Jershon or be unmade.”

  “And?” snarled Almek.

  “I looked away to grab my tomahawk, that I might slay this man, but he was gone and left no track either. It was a place of deep medicine. He was a trickster, that one.”

  Almek scowled at him before exploding, “No, you’re a drunken idiot! You lost Zelph’s tracks and made up this ridiculous story when the Nephites probably have him as a prisoner.”

  “Shall I now?” asked Uzzsheol of Akish-Antum, fingering his long flint knife.

  The Gadianton shook his head.

  Anathoth had his own hand on his sword’s pommel while Tubaloth glared at them, holding his spiked club.

  Prince Almek was the only person oblivious to the tension in the room. “Get out of here, you drunken cumom follower,” he yelled at Uzzsheol.

  “I hear and obey,” said Uzzsheol. The tracker turned and left the royal tent, his face a mask of stone. Tubaloth snickered, calling someone a cumom follower insinuated that they were of the Lemuelite horde, those who followed the migrations of beasts.

  “Almek, you have neither ears to hear, nor eyes to see. There were no Nephite tracks leading Zelph to flee from our camp some twenty miles. He is a traitor, and if we should see him again, he must die,” said Akish-Antum.

  ***

  General Anathoth wondered at what would possess a seemingly devoted warrior to betray his prince, his nation, and his people. He had never spoken to Zelph, but a true warrior knew another true warri
or on sight. He had also heard tales of how, not long before, Zelph had helped to take the rogue Madoni and slay him. Such was not the act of a traitor. No, something more had happened. He wondered about the mysterious stranger who had told Uzzsheol to repent and then disappeared. There were strange, unexplainable things in the world. Anathoth had heard of them, but he had never experienced them himself.

  Anathoth also noted that Zelph was the only man besides himself who never drank wine or let himself be seduced by sensual debaucheries like the rest of the camp. He appeared to be a man of honor and respect, regardless of what the Gadiantons said.

  If Zelph had been able to speak Tultec, Anathoth might have spoken with him. Anathoth himself spoke Tultec, North Lamanite, Lemuelite, Western Nephite, Zoramite, and the language of the Islanders. He probably could have understood Zelph just fine, but he had never made the time. What did it matter now?

  Long and hard is the road to conquest. I serve my king to my utmost but this does not seem right. Long have I served with distinction and a fullness of honor and duty to my king and to my people, but this sneak attack on the Nephites seems weak and wrong. I have always defended the borders of Tullan, my country, and exacted retribution when necessary. I am not afraid to fight when it is right. So why does my heart tell me Akish-Antum is lying?

  Those Nephites we ambushed and slew were not real warriors. They were drunk and in a stupor. It was as if Akish-Antum wanted us to find an armed party of Nephites to show the truth of his story of their aggression, of his lie. They fought as a scared rabbit that found itself in a new field dropped from an eagle’s taloned clutch. There was no honor in it. Someday if my son were to ask me if I had ever slain any Nephite warriors, I would have to say no, as of now.

  “Why the long face, Anathoth?” asked the hulking Gadianton Grand Master.

  An eerie feeling swept over Anathoth as if the Gadianton had a wave of cold air forever about him. “Those men I slew a few days ago, there was no fight in them, no honor for me.”

  “Ha, what can I say? They were foolish and drunk. It is the Nephite way to be a slave to their lusts.”

  Prince Almek was nearby and nodded approvingly. “They are dogs,” he agreed, without looking Anathoth in the eye. “You did good work in dispatching our hated enemies.”

  “I must return to my men. We march soon?” Anathoth asked.

  “Yes, within the hour. Break camp!” called Akish-Antum above the din of the camp.

  As Anathoth walked from Prince Almek’s tent he could hear the Gadianton Grand Master laughing his twisted laugh, that awful deep bass sound of a demon’s drum reverberating out of the darkest abyss. What did Zelph know that would cause him to leave? I should know what Zelph knows.

  A brawny warrior over a span taller than Anathoth approached. It was Lib, an Ishmaelite captain under Anathoth. He had the old blood of the ancients in his veins. He possessed six fingers and six toes on each appendage. The extra digits did not hinder him, in fact, amongst the Tultecs, he was their best with the spear and the jagged, flint-lined club.

  “My general, the men are ready. How soon do we march?” asked the giant.

  “Within the hour, I should think. I am impatient, but first we wait for the Gadianton scouts to tell us of the road ahead,” said Anathoth.

  “Yes, my general. A horseman of theirs has just returned.”

  “I will see about it, have the men ready to take the lead.”

  “Yes, General.” The giant saluted and turned to go.

  Lib would follow me anywhere. I would have thought Zelph would stay with Almek anywhere. I need to know what Zelph knows.

  Almek felt a great loss without Zelph. In the last couple of weeks he had felt that he had the truest friend of his life regardless of his prior abuses, and now that friend was gone. As a replacement, he had a young captain with him constantly.

  Siyach the wise, he was called by his fellow officers. Just a little older than Almek, at twenty seasons, he had become a favored warrior of Xoltec for various missions requiring unorthodox thinking. The young captain had excelled at all tasks given to him while in the army. He had a knack for thinking ahead that had saved his skin a few times in wars with the loathsome Lemuelites and Tultecs. He was also the head captain of Almek’s ball team, and he never lost.

  “Siyach,” asked the prince, “what happened to Zelph?”

  “I do not know, my prince. It does seem that Zelph betrayed us, but I know him as well as any man in the army. He always had a good solid head on his shoulders but was strange and aloof. Maybe things got to him. I have noticed many times on campaign that he and his father did not associate with the others or the camp followers.”

  Almek grinned. “Those things I have heard many times. If Qof-Ayin were any less a great warrior I think others may have questioned his masculinity. No, they are of that old breed that cares about morals. Zelph spoke of righteousness a few times, but I never listened. It never mattered to me.”

  “I think only the Coatl knows the truth of Zelph,” said Siyach.

  “Yea, but if it turns out that he has betrayed me and we should ever see him again, I will slay him myself.” Almek stabbed a dagger into his wooden map table.

  A black clad horseman rode up to the command tents and dismounted from his frothing animal, joined immediately by Teth-Senkhet and Uzzsheol. They all approached Akish-Antum. “What news? Ahab, see to his horse. What news?” asked the Gadianton Grand Master.

  The horseman coughed and spoke. “A great caravan is coming down the road. It cannot be dissuaded by our few scouts.”

  “How big is it?”

  “Over twenty wagons, fifty horses, two elephants, well-guarded and armed. I know there are many barrels in most of the wagons,” said the scout.

  “Wine,” smiled Teth-Senkhet.

  “Is it supplies for a Nephite army in the south?” asked Almek, now approaching.

  “Nay, nay it is a great merchant train,” said the scout.

  “What else do they carry?” asked the prince.

  “Trade from Hermounts and Tennen-Isis. Copper ingots from the north countries. The train is bound for Desolation and Teancum, I am told.”

  “That is good. It will not be missed for some time,” said Akish-Antum. He motioned to Ahab, who had just returned from taking care of the scout’s horse. “Summon Anathoth immediately.”

  Ahab raced off and in a moment the Ishmaelite general was there, spear in hand.

  “Now, a challenge for you if you wish to limit your men,” said Akish-Antum.

  Anathoth looked at him sideways with an irritated frown.

  “This caravan has a great number of guardsmen, too many for my scouts. You must deal with them. Their wagons have a good deal of plunder to warm our bellies and lighten our mood.”

  “I am not a thief,” said Anathoth coldly, turning to go.

  “Ha, what is it you Lamanites say? If I cease to raid, I cease to be.”

  “I am an Ishmaelite.”

  “It makes no difference,” said Akish-Antum.

  “You are under orders,” Teth-Senkhet reminded General Anathoth.

  Anathoth nodded. “Are we to take any prisoners?”

  “No, unless someone serves a true purpose,” said Akish-Antum.

  “Very well, I will do as you command.” As he turned to go, he spit at their feet.

  Teth-Senkhet was ready to rage, but Akish-Antum merely laughed mirthlessly. “Easy, we know how he feels... he wears his precious honor for all the world to see. We will watch and wait for him to break.”

  “Why not let some of my men attack the caravan?” asked Prince Almek. “My men are capable and hungry, too.”

  “As I was saying, my prince, we shall all share equally in the spoils. Why not let Anathoth and his Tultecs risk losing a few men? Besides, I am pushing him. He is bristling under his yoke. If I do not show him who is master here, he may rebel at a more critical time. I need to know he will always do as ordered. King Apophis said he was his most trusted ser
vant and general.”

  “He may be, but Apophis is not here,” said Almek.

  “True. All the better to keep a handle on this one, to better cripple the other later.”

  General Anathoth rallied his spearmen and bowmen into two equal units of a hundred and fifty each. He lined them up on either side of the brushy hillside along the road, having them take the best cover possible. The trees were sparse here, and the bushes small, but if the caravan guards were inattentive this early in the morning it could be quick and painless. Anathoth did not want to lose a single man if he could help it.

  The archers were instructed to shoot each armed man in the caravan as they themselves were lined up. This was a good spot in the road. It ran between two low-slung hills, so his men would be shooting down at their prey. Several would roll boulders down to the road, not to fully block it but to provide a distraction.

  Anathoth had finished surveying the layout of the ambush when someone spoke behind him.

  “This is a good spot,” said Akish-Antum. He wore his own full plate exalted copper armor and tiger helm with dagger-like teeth lacquered in gold.

  “I can do without your help,” said Anathoth, annoyed at his presence.

  “Of course, you can,” said the Gadianton.

  “Your flashy armor may give us away.”

  “I won’t be seen until it’s too late, I assure you,” laughed the Gadianton Grand Master, grinning through his razor-sharp teeth. He stepped up and backward, fading into the undergrowth.

  For such a big man he moves like a panther, silent and swift.

  As they waited, the sun began to heat the men as they crouched beside the road. Biting flies buzzed and sucked blood. Soon enough, Anathoth heard the creak of the wagons as his men waited in silence. The talk of the people aboard the wagons began as a low droning and grew as they approached. One of the mammoth elephants trumpeted as they rounded the bend, right into the trap.