Heroes of the Fallen Read online

  Akish-Antum continued painting the large red glyphs upon the wall then put the bowl away and called out, “What are you looking for, young Prince Aaron?”

  The boy, silent, stared through a crack in the wooden door at the symbols which seemed to be drawn in blood.

  “If you wish to speak with me, enter... otherwise you had best leave. My demon consorts may find you a morsel they can hardly resist.” He laughed.

  Feeling both brave and curious, the boy pushed the door open to behold the full terror of the room. With awe, he stared at the huge skull. It could have easily fit over the top of his entire head and be worn like a helmet. The ocher glyphs still oozed and ran red down the wall.

  “You speak with demons?” Aaron asked.

  “Yes, I am beyond the learning of mortal men. If I wish to know anything more, I speak to the long dead masters who have preceded me or to the bodiless servants of my lord, the true dark master.”

  “Ahtmar?” asked the young prince, thinking of the angel who had visited him in the night.

  “Ha! He is a lesser one who enjoys being a trickster. He did well sending you my way.”

  “They say you are evil,” ventured the boy.

  “They say, they say. Who are they? Little people in a little world, those who cannot open their minds to the higher consciousness. They are the ones who will not grow. They must obey set rules and limitations in this life. They must have authority and law over them,” he nearly spat with disdain. “They believe someone is coming to save them. No! In this life you must save yourself. I never asked for anyone to save me,” he lied. “These types are held in a rotting stagnation. That will be their undoing.” The Gadianton stared into the dark eyes of the boy. They were wide but unafraid. “Do what you want, that’s the true gospel. Don’t you think a real god wants you to be happy?”

  The boy stared and slowly nodded his head. The Gadianton continued his tirade. “Of course, he does. Look at the old prophets of the Christ, moping and crying. They were burned alive, stoned, fed to beasts, slain by traitors, murdered in the streets... when all along they had a power to stop it. What power you might ask? The power of their own free will and choice. They didn’t have to choose to follow he who would only bring them misery. No, the real God could save you from this life’s troubles. He wants you to be yourself. We are only here for a short while. Before we evolve to the next level of consciousness, we must take advantage of the opportunities here. Stay by me, Prince, and I will show you the way.”

  Aaron watched him through all this and made up his mind. “You are wise, Akish-Antum. I will have you show me the way. How did you come to this greater knowledge?”

  Akish-Antum’s look seemed far away through dim eons past, cloaked in the cobwebs and ruin of ages before speaking. “I was born on the sacred cross of waters near to Zarahemla, son of a long line, born to be a priest. I was weak... dead to the world alive to the spirit. Once I met Him, but in my time of need, was denied, my prayers mocked, my son drowning. So, I turned my back, faced the west, forgot my past, began my future, and witnessed the beauty of oblivion. I learned the great secret, and I will teach it to you.”

  “You speak in riddles,” said Aaron.

  “It is all my past you need to know.”

  “What is the great secret?”

  “Soon... soon I will tell you.”

  A strong wind blew in from the west the next morning, bringing storm clouds across a steel blue sky. Aaron sat attentive at his father’s side as the Gadianton Grand Master explained more of his plan.

  The armies would be guided by the Order on its special route snaking through enemy territory. In this way it could best surprise the Nephites all the way to the center of their land near Zarahemla. There they would be in the best position to take the city with minimal loss to themselves while demanding a nationwide surrender as well as tribute. The Nephites would surrender to the ferocity and omnipotence of the combined Lamanite and Ishmaelite armies.

  King Xoltec gloated over this. He had long dreamt of putting the enemy brother’s sons under the yoke of bondage and slavery. How he loathed them. They who claimed he was the cursed one, both he and his kin. What gave them the right? His flesh was their flesh and Xoltec’s fathers were the elders. Arrogant Nephites, always portraying themselves as the natural favorites of their god.

  Well, now he had his own gods. One for every season, for every emotion and feeling of the senses. Gods of the home and forest, the sea and the sky, rain and sun, blood and death. These gods were easier to appease. You knew what they wanted. A sultry virgin, a warrior’s heart, a limnah of gold, and the death of the dream of peace.

  Akish-Antum continued to flatter the old king and his people, while simultaneously throwing hints of the doom that awaited them if they should refuse to follow his plan of aggression. He told tales of how vicious the Nephites had become and what they would do to captured prisoners, how the Nephites loved to torture and murder. Their sacrifices were embellished to sound a hundred times worse than anything Balam-Ek had ever done.

  In many ways, the Lamanites had become unfeeling in the ways of bloodshed. They were numb to violence and had little regard for their own slaves and prisoners. But stories of true warriors being unmanned, robbed of their identities, and made to perform women’s work appalled them. Better to be sacrificed to gods in a true warrior’s death.

  “How large an army do you need for this plan to succeed against these fiends?” asked Xoltec, inspired by the lust for conquest. “You said a tenth of my full army.”

  “Fifty thousand troops and I can make you king of this side of the world, holding Zarahemla in our collective hands. Then key men will die, and other key men will take their places. They will convince the people of the futility of fighting against your armies. The masses will cry out for peace, tolerance, and security. In return for such, they will give you honor and tribute. Your name will be recorded in the sacred books, your face hewn into stone for the ages.”

  “And you! What do you have to gain in all of this?” demanded Prince Almek. “If these Nephites are as fierce and bloodthirsty as you claim, why would they sue for peace and give tribute with only a single city, even a capital city, falling to us?”

  “I know this, no one is as cowardly or puts up as much of a front as a bully. I have seen the future, and the Nephites will fall. A grateful king will reward his greatest servant and ally,” spoke the Gadianton, looking into Xoltec’s and then the boy, Aaron’s eyes. Heedless of Almek’s smoldering gaze he continued, “It is your family’s destiny to prevail. My crystal skull interpreter has seen it. It is going to happen, regardless of what you or anyone else says or does. It is inevitable. This family will rule the entire continent, king of all the lands from the south to the north. I simply wish to be a part of it, to get my share.”

  “Then what do we even need you for? If I am to be an invincible king, then what are you but a dog? A dog begging for scraps!” shouted Almek.

  “Silence, brother,” pleaded Aaron.

  “I want to know, tell me king of dogs!” continued Almek.

  Silently, King Xoltec watched, awaiting the climax of the confrontation. True, Akish-Antum was the last person in the world to be trifled with, but to be a strong king, Almek must learn and grow. He must learn to fight his own battles and deal with the consequences.

  Stepping closer and bringing his huge bulk right up to Almek, who reached to his mid chest, Akish-Antum said, “Almek, I am the salvation and guide of your people. Heed me or not. If you don’t, it is your choice and your mistake.”

  The crown prince looked away and mumbled something unintelligible. Then quick as love lost and sharp as slander, he slammed his obsidian dagger into Akish-Antum’s chest. Blood poured from the point of impact but not from the man’s chest. Almek screamed, clutching his hand.

  “You have spirit, I’ll give you that. But no intelligence,” said Akish-Antum.

  Black shards of obsidian lay scattered across the stone floor, in dire
contrast to Almek’s blood droplets. Only the jade handle remained in one piece... the ebon volcanic stone had shattered in his hand, tearing it apart. Eyes wide, he backed down as the Gadianton stared burning holes into him.

  Breathing hard and clutching his hand, the prince muttered, “Impossible, copper armor is not so strong.” He ran down the hall, streaking a trail of crimson on the gray limestone.

  “You truly are a great sorcerer,” proclaimed young Prince Aaron.

  “Only great black magic could have made copper withstand obsidian,” agreed Xoltec.

  “No, not magic, just knowledge, knowledge I will share. I can tell you how to make copper armor and weapons as strong as Nephite steel.”

  “Please, tell us how,” said Xoltec, eagerly.

  “Do you believe my warning of Nephite aggression?”

  “Show us how to make the miracle metal,” insisted the old king.

  “It will take a little time, as my engineers show your smiths the process, but it can be done in time to outfit and arm the war machine that we are assembling. Shall we gather your army while we wait?”

  “Yes. Tulum, write the royal decree to begin selecting troops,” the king called to his royal dwarf scribe. Looking to Akish-Antum, he asked, “By the time the armies arrive will your enchantments be ready as well?”

  “Yes, they will be ready. Send all weapons that need to be enchanted to my assistant.”

  The lean king stood and shouted again, “Balam-Ek, send word. Our fifty thousand greatest soldiers are to report here, and they must bring all possible armor with them.”

  The big priest went out fuming. This would not bode well for his own plans, the Gadianton was gaining too much. This would upset the plans he had begun some months ago. Something must be done, but the high priest was not sure yet what that would be.

  “Akish-Antum,” croaked the king.

  “Yes, Rabbanah.”

  “Can you forgive my impetuous son? He is my heir, my great hope. I am dishonored at his idle threat to you. It will not happen again.”

  Akish-Antum smiled his sinister grin. “Of course, my king. Forgiveness will demonstrate our alliance and friendship. By your leave, I will begin arrangements with my engineers to provide for an army of your size. But we will need only a portion of that army.”

  “What portion do you mean?” asked Xoltec, suspicious again.

  “Only half, twenty-five thousand of the fiercest warriors you have. The other twenty-five thousand will be provided by King Apophis of Tullan.”

  “I do not trust him,” scowled Xoltec.

  “We must be united for now to destroy a common threat. We can deal with Apophis afterwards.”

  “Very well.”

  “By your leave,” said the Gadianton. The king nodded and the huge man left the room.

  Quickly on his heels, Aaron asked, “Will you tell me how your armor is so strong, if it is not magic?”

  Looking down at the skinny, dark-haired boy, Akish-Antum smiled his awful grin and said, “Do you know how ripples are formed and move in water?”

  “Yes, of course I do.”

  “It is the same with sound, only we do not see it. Using the right sound-ripples, I can rearrange the elements within the copper to make it as strong as steel. By rearranging elements, a sword will be sharper and stronger than ever before. This one is mine.” He drew forth a long, straight, double-edged sword. The steel was a dark blue-black with intricate wavy lines, showing that the metal had been folded hundreds of times. “This is my sword, Kadar-Lahab, the Black Flame. It has no equal in the world. It was strong steel before it was treated by the process, now there is nothing on earth stronger.”

  “Magic!” blurted out Aaron.

  “The ancients knew this secret and many others. I am one of a handful that knows this skill. Very few Nephites know of this anymore, yet they retain a larger armory than your people. It is called exalted copper. Whenever possible, my Order has taken spears, swords, knives, and armor from the Nephites, but there remains a good amount of the exalted copper weapons in the Nephite army’s hands. I want to even the odds should your people have to fight them.”

  “You amaze me every day, master,” spoke the boy, full of awe.

  “Good. Because when I no longer do, I will cease to be the master.” He laughed and walked on. Stopping mid-stride, he turned to Aaron and said, “It begins, Prince. Wrath is coming to the world as never before.”

  Aaron believed every word spawned from the Gadianton Grand Master, unable to distinguish the truth from the lie. A spark of hate was fanned to flames under the guidance of Akish-Antum that would burn within Aaron all his life, a terrible fire of hate, revenge, and wicked knowledge. The seeds of evil had taken full root in the boy prince.

  I Am Apophis

  Venomous black smoke billowed into the sky over the mighty city of Tullan, Kingdom of the Sun. Tullan the Golden it was called, although this afternoon the acrid cloud lessened its gleam. Atop its great pyramid of the sun god stood a copper-skinned king, tall and proud, covered in fine silks and adorned with gold and jade. At once both majestic and cruel, he surveyed his latest handiwork. The king had a dripping blade at his side and blood on his hands.

  “Oh, King, this was a mistake,” said a shaven-headed man in a blistering hot, black robe, a dusky man with a shaven head and a prominent nose. “Even the Order of Gadianton does not seek to wipe out knowledge.”

  The fluid king rounded on him. “Teth-Senkhet, second-in-command of all Gadiantons in the north, my childhood friend, my brother in the Order, sharer of the great secret, and Lord of the lands of Kishkumen, do not presume to tell me how to run my kingdom. All that you are, I can end,” said the tall king, now annoyed at both the heat and the man.

  They were alone save for the king’s most trusted captain, Anathoth. Anathoth was muscular and tall with dark hair and green eyes, an Ishmaelite as were most of the people of Tullan—a distinction they were proud of—though to a Nephite they would all be Lamanites. For the last generation they had also begun calling themselves Tultecs in honor of their city, which they deemed to be the greatest upon the face of the earth.

  “I meant—” said Teth-Senkhet, quickly cut off by the king.

  “I am Apophis the King, who makes ashes of my enemies’ corpses! I have placed my enemies beneath my feet and made myself their master! I do what I wish,” he shouted for the entire world to hear. In his mind, the whole world was listening.

  The captain, Anathoth, put his hand to the wide moon-shaped knife ever ready to end the black-cloaked man’s life.

  “Yes, Rabbanah,” said Teth-Senkhet.

  “I prefer Nab Narayaw to Rabbanah. Lord of Terror is better than Great King, it holds the people in place better.”

  “Yes, oh Nab Narayaw,” spoke Teth-Senkhet, the black-cloaked Gadianton.

  Stern-faced Captain Anathoth let his hand leave his knife’s handle.

  The king laughed at the look of sudden terror on the Gadianton’s face. “I rule a great kingdom. Ever since I took the crown from my father’s gory head, I have been king. I have ruled wisely these last twelve years, expanding and growing stronger. Your master is right. The time is ripe to destroy our hated ancient oppressors, the Nephites, the usurpers of ages past. My power will be complete.”

  The Gadianton Teth-Senkhet gained a little courage and replied, “Knowledge is power. So why burn and destroy the library, why slay the scribes? Why destroy the records of the past?”

  “You think me foolish, don’t you? You can find no comprehensible reason I would do such a thing? You should know me better. If the vain-glorious records of our forefathers are gone, I can rewrite them. I can eliminate the mistakes and fallacies of the past. History will be my legacy. What I tell the scribes to write and remember will be the new truth. I am the founder of an empire that springs full bloom from out of the dust of ages. I am the god king of darkness, the wisdom from within the chaos. I command the sun to alight each and every day at my whim as a gift to
my subjects,” shouted Apophis. People far below the pyramid looked up and bowed when the king looked their way.

  “I concede your wisdom and ambition, Nab Narayaw,” said the Gadianton. “But what of other peoples and records elsewhere? The Nephites have a vast amount that would dwarf even what you have burned here today.”

  “All in due time. I begin here with what I can. The library of Tullan was too vast to pick through, with far too many references to Yod He Vau. I am done with him,” spoke the king, growing ever more restless. “Where is my pipe?” he asked the captain.

  The tall captain turned and held aloft the king’s own magnificent pipe of stone carved in the likeness of a long snorting dragon. The king grabbed it and blew great plumes of smoke to merge with the black cloud overhead. His warriors were nearly finished throwing the last of the scrolls and books into the bonfire. He looked on, greatly pleased with himself.

  “Very well, wise one. Now, my king, will you consider an answer for my master Akish-Antum?”

  “Yea, I will think on it. Though I am loath to commit to an enterprise with Xoltec. He has had raiders venturing into my southernmost border kingdoms. Word has only recently come to me of his warriors taking the city of Lamanihah,” spoke the king bitterly, through his pipe, breathing great tubes of smoke out his nose. “The city should have been mine.”

  “Your southernmost kingdoms? Are you saying you already possessed the city of Lamanihah? Madoni was quite mad and would not be subservient to either you or Xoltec. My understanding is Madoni named himself a god-king and took the city before you could.”

  “You needn’t be coy with me, Senket. Madoni was insane, but I could have taken his throne. I had hoped to fight a hundred weak kings rather than one strong one. I wanted all the Lamanite lands for my own, but now Xoltec has half and I hold the other half. Something must happen to break the stalemate. Your master’s plan to take out the Nephites is a sound one, but I trust not Xoltec and I cannot fight a war on two fronts, one above and one below,” growled the king, still blowing scented smoke.