Heroes of the Fallen Read online

  A pleasing voice spoke to him in a musical tone, “Open your eyes, I am here to direct you, Son of the Prophecy.” It surprised Aaron, the voice having come from behind him.

  Slowly opening his eyes, he saw a handsome man standing in his doorway. A bright white light surrounded this stranger. He was as tall and finely shaped as a warrior in peak physical condition, with not a single blemish or scar on his skin. The hair upon his head shone dark like obsidian.

  Walking behind Aaron, the spirit said, “I am a guardian sent to instruct you.”

  Overwhelmed, Aaron asked, “Are you a god?”

  “No, I am an angel of the god of this earth. My name is Ahtmar.”

  “Tell me what I must do.”

  “A great man is coming to the court of your father. His name is Akish-Antum.”

  “The Gadianton Grand Master?”

  “Yea, it is he.”

  “Father doesn’t trust him, though he did give him the city of Ushmael.”

  “Are you questioning the will of the gods?” asked Ahtmar, eyes narrowed.

  “No, no I am not,” he said, in fear of the spirit.

  “Akish-Antum is to be your new master and teacher. Serve him as you would the gods themselves and your destiny is secure. Tell no one of this charge set upon you.” The glow of the spirit disappeared, and Aaron was alone again. Warmth returned to the room.

  Aaron could not sleep for excitement. Destiny begins, the spirit said, and who am I to test a spirit?

  All through the night, under the fallen star, screams of agony pierced the darkness. Balam-Ek cut out hearts and entrails to read the meaning of the sign in the heavens. Sacrificing over one hundred men, he learned nothing. He had cut man after man, thinking eventually to find something he could use, but there were no secrets in the blood magic to be learned from the bodies of the doomed slaves.

  While his father prayed just outside the front room, Zelph went into the next room and knelt facing east. He was only upon his knees for a moment, when a bright light filled the room. The infant in the hut next door shrieked loudly as its mother tried in vain to calm and soothe it.

  “Zelph, descendant of Samuel, I am an angel sent to guide you,” said a musical voice.

  Holding his hand over his eyes, Zelph turned to face the spirit behind him. Though a little afraid and blinded by the bright light, Zelph asked, “Who are you to instruct me?”

  “My name is Ahtmar, I am sent of the god of this earth,” said the spirit who appeared as a well-shaped man with dark hair. Zelph sensed this was not a spirit of benevolence. He remembered his father telling him how to test a spirit, so that he might know if it was an evil spirit sent to deceive him.

  Drawing courage unto himself in the cold room, Zelph asked as he had been taught, “Spirit, will you take my hand?” Qof-Ayin had taught him that a disembodied spirit cannot resist touching a living person, though a living person would feel nothing.

  “Of course, I will take your hand, just hearken unto me. You are to be a servant of Akish-Antum when he comes hither.”

  Zelph stepped forward, as did the spirit Ahtmar, and as their hands met, Zelph felt nothing. His hand passed through Ahtmar as if he were not there. A greater hint of cold passed through Zelph.

  “I know you for the devil you are, cloaked in false sunlight to deceive me! Begone, hell spawn! By the power of the Great Spirit, depart and never return to this house!”

  “Oh, I will leave. First, know that if you heed me not, a darkness will befall you and your father,” taunted Ahtmar.

  “Begone! Begone, I serve the true Lord!” shouted Zelph.

  “I curse you, Zelph. Men will hate you all your days, and you will be a cursed man hunted by your own kind. Those who should venerate you will instead cast dispersions upon your name. You are doomed to be an outcast forever!” said Ahtmar with a fury.

  “Begone! Now!” commanded Zelph.

  Ahtmar turned and walked through the wall, and warmth returned to the room. The child next door ceased crying.

  “Zelph, your voice was raised. Who was here? Who could have passed me as I was out front?” asked Qof-Ayin, rushing into the room.

  “A servant of the adversary, an evil spirit. He bade me seek out and serve Akish-Antum. Do you know who that is?”

  “Yea, Akish-Antum is a Gadianton, a devil clothed in flesh, a shadow across the light. His black magic is strong. I pray you never meet him.”

  Pausing to look out the window, Qof-Ayin continued, “We live in dark times. You to be bodyguard of the king and now this... it bodes ill. I will think of something to help you, my son. Something.”

  Zelph could not sleep. He paced through the house, shuddering with each scream from the sacrificed victims of the high priest, Balam-Ek. “Father, I cannot stay here. This city bleeds evil.”

  “My son, it breaks my heart to see how far our people have fallen. The choice is always before the people and they have taken the evil path. It is a fight that will never cease.”

  “We are not innocent! Those slaves, those men now being sacrificed, we captured them and gave them to the priests. Their blood is on our hands,” cried Zelph, brooding into his clenched hands.

  Qof-Ayin put his arm around his son. “Those men I gave the priests were prisoners from the dungeons of Madoni. They were murderers, robbers, and worse. They are not innocent victims. If I had not given them up to the priests of Baal, Balam-Ek would have taken innocent people to the sacrificial altar.”

  “I apologize for my doubt. You are wise, and I still have much more to learn from you.”

  “If only I were a wise man. I am not, I am only captain of the army in Mutula,” said Qof-Ayin.

  “Then let us leave this place and go to a new land where there is justice and mercy. Let us leave now, in the night.”

  “We can’t yet... we are still being watched.”

  “How can you know that?” asked Zelph, more curious than doubtful.

  “My name is Qof-Ayin, is it not?”

  “Yea, it is. ‘Eyes in Back of Head’, where is he who spies upon us?”

  “Aside the tree, beyond the courtyard, he watches and waits. Some lesser priest of Baal. They are taking no chances with you, my son. I have been too vocal in my disdain for the temple of foolish stone gods. Perhaps Balam-Ek knows our true faith. We are not trusted.”

  By morning, the screams of sacrifice had stopped. Balam-Ek was grateful to Shagreel, the Sun God, for banishing the dark fallen star from the sky. Still, he had no answer for Xoltec and feared for his current life and station. Shoulders slumped, he trudged back to his abode to ponder something to tell the king next time he was summoned.

  A million thoughts raced through his brain as he walked in a daze to his chambers, hoping the king had not been drinking again with the new slave girls. They always made him extra mean. He bumped into his chief scribe, a short thick man. “Have any magicians or sorcerers arrived to speak with the king yet?”

  The wind forced the scribe’s thin gray beard to blow into his face as he answered, “No, my master, most have fled, as the dark star was unexpected by all. They have all run away rather than tell the king they are fools who know nothing.”

  “Strangely, that is good enough news for me. I at least will not have to debate with any other soothsayer what the sign means.”

  “I am afraid, master, that I have heard someone is coming,” said the scribe.

  “Taloc! Who is it?” thundered Balam-Ek.

  “An enemy of ours, the Gadianton Grand Master, Akish-Antum. His chariot is approaching our lands, even now. A message runner just brought the news to me a short time ago. I was about to inform the king.”

  “How long until he arrives?”

  “Mere hours, perhaps less.”

  “Blast his godless soul. I must have an answer for the king before he arrives. Perhaps I can turn this to my advantage. Tell no one of his coming yet, and see to it that the runner tells no one, either,” commanded the high priest.

  “I wil
l say nothing of it yet then, master.”

  Thinking, Balam-Ek rubbed his chin, forgetting how bloody it still was. He wiped his face and sat down for a moment to think. Inspiration came, and he quickly rushed to the king’s hall. This dark star could still portend something wicked that could be laid at another’s feet. Balam-Ek grinned. The great Gadianton would not even know he was coming to his doom.

  Entering the great hall, Balam-Ek had a stern look on his sinister face as he approached the king, who was flanked by both sons. A jaguar skin cloak hung from the king’s gaunt shoulders.

  To warm his weak heart, thought Balam-Ek. The sons at least looked awake. Scowling, angry, jealous Almek, and quiet, perceptive Aaron. Odd that he looks more pleased to be sitting here than usual, as if he is expecting something.

  “Your Majesty, King Xoltec, Lord of Mutula, Laban, Midian, Middoni, Lemuel, Lamanihah, Lehi, and Ushmael.” The last one was a purposeful jab into the brain stem.

  “Ushmael? I do not rule Ushmael. That is the sorcerer’s city, perhaps won by trickery, but his none the less.” He coughed. “Explain yourself, Balam-Ek. Do you incite war with an ally?”

  “The city of the Gadianton Grand Master, Akish-Antum, was taken by trickery,” said Balam-Ek. “He had told you, my king, that he would build a pyramid in a single night. If he did so, then you were to give him the city.”

  “I know very well how I lost the city,” said Xoltec. “I thought I had him in a hopeless boast. By morning’s light there was a great, oval-shaped pyramid, a strange shape unlike other pyramids, sitting upon the city’s outer grounds. I had to give the city and its surrounding lands to the Gadianton Grand Master. I still don’t know how he did it. Since then, none but Gadiantons has ever been to the city and lived to tell the tale.”

  “I know of the Gadianton deceit, the gods have told me,” said Balam-Ek, hoping he could bait Xoltec into betraying the truce with Akish-Antum. “And I have discovered the meaning of the dark omen in the sky.” Balam-Ek paused to dramatize his point, slowly turning to be sure he had everyone’s attention. “It is a sign of great evil attempting to come over your house, great king. But it does not mean we are helpless. There is no fate we cannot fight... the gods Shagreel, Baal, and Moloch welcome and reward strength, action, and power!”

  “What is this evil you speak of?” demanded Prince Almek.

  “Oh, Prince, it is an old cunning enemy, our very own neighbor to the direct north in Ushmael. Akish-Antum, the Gadianton’s Master.” A hush fell over everyone in the hall.

  Aaron sat enthralled, awaiting his new master, as Ahtmar had said. Balam-Ek’s rhetoric only increased his hopes.

  “You make dangerous accusations, Balam-Ek. Akish-Antum, the Gadianton Grand Master is not to be trifled with. He sees all,” asserted the courtier Tzichak.

  “No, he does not. My king, listen to me... Akish-Antum is an enemy, a Nephite in his heart. That’s his blood, the blood of the usurpers. Since our people first came here and the ancient brotherly bond and birthright was broken, their people have sought to dominate us, and he is one of them. There can be no denying it.”

  “You have seen this in the signs?” asked King Xoltec, now a little more engaged.

  “Yea, I have. The sign in the sky was a warning to act,” declared the high priest. “We must slay him as he enters our city.”

  “Enters our city?” asked the king. “What do you know, Balam-Ek?”

  “He is on his way here even now to deceive and destroy us. We must act first. Murder him and take back our city of Ushmael. Once this is done, we will destroy the robbers from out of our midst. For this, the Sun God Shagreel will bless us.” Balam-Ek paused, confident in his speech and his influence on King Xoltec. “We are the people of Laman, the elder brother, and it is our right to rule over the others, whether they be Nephites, Zoramites, Jacobites, Josephites, Ishmaelites, or even filthy Lemuelites. We must rule and put them all under our feet. This dark star is the sign of our time to rise. Let us begin in our own house and eradicate those treacherous Gadianton dogs of Akish-Antum. Who is with me and the king?” he shouted loud as thunder, praying to dark gods that the king agreed with him.

  No one moved or spoke as they watched King Xoltec, waiting for his response.

  Clapping echoed in the chamber, followed by deep guttural laughing. “Ha, ha, ha, well done... what a performance.” The deep bass voice echoed down the hall from the west entrance. Metallic hands clapped a steady primal beat. The shadows extended taller than the man in the doorway.

  As he stalked in, many turned away, fearing eye contact. The deep ominous laugh continued. “Ha, ha, ha, was that your plan? You pathetic pawn of Shagreel, you worshiper of weakness. The time of sorrow is at hand and I am here to help you, King Xoltec.”

  The Gadianton Grand Master had arrived.

  Call of Duty

  The personal council room of Onandagus was lit warm by the sun. The rays came from windows that reached to the high ceiling. This private chamber was only used by the close friends and family of the chief judge. The walls were stuccoed and whitewashed, giving a bright vibrant appearance. The furnishings were sparse—a desk, a bookcase covered with brass books, scrolls, and dozens of inscribed clay tablets.

  Amaron took a spot on the only couch, waiting for the others to arrive. He looked at a glass-covered box containing a tattered remnant of Captain Moroni’s original Title of Liberty. Beyond these few things, the room was rather plain and unmarked, as Onandagus lived simply and humbly.

  The men began to arrive. As they came in and settled where they could, Amaron recognized many of them. Amon, Stephen, Nephi, Boaz, Nahom, and Isaiah, each from Zarahemla. They were good men, and all captains. Simeon from Manti and Tobron of Manti. Amaron knew Tobron slightly, a trusted captain as well. The last was Captain Ahaten from Gideon.

  Amaron had talked with the chief judge and Ezra until late into the night, and he was still rather tired. Why was he here, only a guardsman? He would have no more to add to the discussion. They had gone over everything last night.

  Onandagus stood before them leaning on his desk, a brooding look upon his drawn face. He seemed much older than his forty-four years.

  He asked Tobron to pray, and then he began, “You are the ten best men available to me, the ten best I can get right now for a mission. I understand better than anyone how few good men remain, and yet in your turn I must ask that each of you find the ten best men you can as well. You will each serve as the captain of ten for this important mission, which may entail the next few months.”

  The men nodded, ready for this responsibility.

  “As of today, young Amaron is promoted to full captain of the guard,” said Onandagus. Tobron gave a strong slap of congratulations to Amaron’s back.

  “What about Lachoneus? He is commander of the scouts. He taught me everything I know,” protested Amaron. “This does not seem right.”

  Onandagus went quiet a moment, something inside his eyes moved as if a tear threatened to emerge but then it was gone, as a dam was thrown up and the stony indifference of the chief judge resumed. “The dagger men murdered Lachoneus and his wife in the night. I am sorry you had to hear it like this, Amaron. It is in no way related to your promotion, which I had planned to do beforehand.”

  That was a blow never expected. Lachoneus was like an uncle to Amaron, the kind that taught you not only survival skills like woodcraft and teamwork but dirty tricks and pranks. When Amaron was a boy, Lachoneus had taken three dozen of the youth out to the northwest edge of the wilderness of Hermounts for a widespread gathering of junior guardsmen. He taught them tracking, camping in adverse weather and other survival skills, and then they had mock battles with youth who had come from other cities as far away as Bountiful and Desolation.

  That had been the first time Amaron learned to fight multiple opponents and win. Three much older boys had come to attack him in the dark, on a steep hillside. He saw them coming and went low, knocking them down and sending them tumbling dow
n the hill. He was very proud of himself for that. Lachoneus had taught him some of those grappling methods, as well as the lesson that there is always a way to prevail. Amaron would never forget him.

  “Now to the task at hand,” began Onandagus. “The Gadianton Grand Master is manipulating the Lamanites and Ishmaelites for war. The greedy old king, Xoltec of Mutula, and the young ambitious king, Apophis of Tullan, are the two rulers over all the Lamanites and Ishmaelites. The Gadiantons are inciting these two to attack us, specifically, here in Zarahemla. They are planning to bypass all major roads and sneak in as far as they can without having to fight any other cities if possible. The plan is simple, a revolution based upon fear. They will slay all known leaders here and abroad. They will instill puppet leaders and rule with as little bloodshed as possible. Far too many of our people could be taken in by this, they would trade supposed security for their freedom. This is a land of freedom, it must always remain so.”

  “You are saying this is to be the first real war in over three hundred years?” said Boaz.

  “Yea, there will be war. Your part is small for now, but crucial. I do not yet know which secret routes these armies will take. Gadianton scouts are going to lead them on little known paths. We must find them while they are still far away from the city. We can then slow them down and fight them where few of our people will be harmed. If they get within a day’s march of Zarahemla, there will be too many farms and towns in the direct line of battle.”

  “So, we are to take a group of men and watch, slow them down and expose them if we can?” asked Tobron, grinning.

  “Yea, as much as you can. You will be given horses and carrier birds to best keep me apprised of your individual situations.”