Heroes of the Fallen

by David J. West

  “Zelph, are you listening to me?” snapped Balam-Ek.

  “Yes, I am. No wine, sir.”

  “Speak only when spoken to. You will be given new clothes befitting your new, exalted station. And this.” Balam-Ek hefted a wide double-edged copper axe to Zelph’s right hand. It was stout and shone with an impressive sheen, the wooden handle was strong, made of hickory, like his father’s staff.

  “This and your sword are to be with you at all times, and you are to be with the king at all times. I cannot stress this enough. Be forewarned, the Order of the Gadiantons are up to something, I can smell it. Nothing is of more importance than the safety of the king. Do you understand?”

  Zelph nodded, careful not to speak out of turn.

  The king coughed. “I often expect assassins’ daggers in the night, either Nephite or Gadianton daggers.”

  “You may have the rest of the morning off, as it will be your last day with your father for a very long time. Gather your belongings and be here at noon,” commanded Balam-Ek. The priest saw him to the door then turned and went another way down the wide hall.

  The axe was magnificent, probably too heavy to be wielded effectively by most men. Zelph, however, could swing it with grace and ease. Walking home, he was proud to show it to his father, until all Balam-Ek had said came rushing back like the river free of a broken dam.

  Zelph’s father, Qof-Ayin, sat and listened long, his brow furrowed as he rubbed his chin in anguish. “I know what we are to do. You will take my place, and I will take yours. We cannot run, not now. Better I stay in Mutula, guarding a degenerate king. You, whom I myself have trained, can slip away from the army at the right time to build a new life for yourself in a land of peace. Perhaps the land of Grandfather Samuel’s other families in the land known as Jershon.”

  “I don't know where that is, nor if it exists any longer,” said Zelph. “The war with the Nephites is coming soon one way or the other. Akish-Antum has seen to that. There may be no peace on earth anywhere.”

  “My son, there is no peace here, that much we know. You must get away and find something else. There is family in Jershon. Samuel’s family was large. I believe we have many relatives there. Go and seek them out.”

  “I do not wish to go without you,” Zelph plead fervently.

  “I fear you must. There is a darkness here that means to swallow you whole. I won’t allow it. Even if it requires my life. I will become the king’s bodyguard in your stead.”

  “No! My father, there must be another way!”

  “It must be like this. Be strong and serve the Great Spirit. Pray and be guided.”

  They prayed then and knew what they must do. Zelph would go and ask the king himself to grant him this great favor even though there was no reason he should.

  Zelph approached the door of the king’s private chamber.

  He rapped on the door soundly, and the old king’s voice muttered from within, “Who calls? Balam-Ek? Akish-Antum?”

  “Nay, it is your servant Zelph, oh king.”

  “You may enter,” called the king.

  The stone room was lit by a single torch upon the wall close to an opulent bed of Nephite origin.

  “I am done with her,” croaked the king, referring to the half-naked harem girl on his bed. She hurried from the room, her long brown hair unable to hide the tears in her eyes, nor the welts on her back.

  Composing himself to this man he despised now more than ever, Zelph said, “Your majesty, my father wishes to become your bodyguard in my place.”

  “What of his duties to the army?”

  “I would take his place as he takes mine. Long ago he declined your generous offer of being captain of your bodyguard, and he has lived with that regret all these years, his only repose from such is being my father. I wish to go with the army and win you and your heir much glory and honor, as I have slain Madoni for you so would I defeat the enemies that would stand against prince Almek.”

  The king reached for a sack of wine beside the bed. He drank greedily from it, spilling some on himself and the bed.

  Zelph’s ire grew with each red drop. The face of the crying slave girl burned into his mind, and he resisted the urge to strangle the life out of the filthy old lecher, but he held still and appeared to be a humble servant of the king’s wishes.

  Xoltec yawned and scratched himself, then wiped away the droplets of wine from his jowls. He looked hard at Zelph and said, “I will give the decision to Almek. If he wants you as his bodyguard, then you and your father may switch duties. After the war ends, you shall return to serve me, and your father may retire.”

  Zelph nodded. “Thank you, my king.”

  “So, go now and speak with Almek,” said the king, as he continued to slurp at the wineskin. “Remember, it’s Crown Prince Almek.”

  “Yes, your majesty,” Zelph said as he closed the door. Outside in the hallway, he punched a stout wooden post. It shuddered and left four huge knuckle marks indented into the wood.

  “What was that?” called Xoltec from behind the door.

  Returning to his father’s home, Zelph told him of the king’s decision. Together they went to seek out Prince Almek.

  “I will speak to Almek,” said Qof-Ayin “He may listen to me.”

  Down a small, embanked plaza and past a central ball court, they approached the prince. He was surrounded by his personal ball team and a host of admirers. The prince saw Zelph and Qof-Ayin coming and called out loudly, “Where goes the tiger, the whelp is sure to follow.”

  Turning to his son, Qof-Ayin said in a whisper, “Do not react to anything he or I say. He will attempt to provoke us. Do not let him.”

  “Mighty Qof-Ayin and his son the giant, what are you doing here?” sneered the prince, showing off for his entourage. “I asked for no fools before the midday feast.”

  His people laughed.

  Qof-Ayin spoke kindly to him, as if he were his own child. “Prince, you know that I have served your father well for over twenty years, and I would that my son serve you even greater.”

  “What is this? A jest? Did my father send you here to mock me? Be warned I have a new dagger.” His group laughed again but stopped suddenly with a quick turn of his sullen face.

  “No jest, my prince. We have come to ask you to allow my son to take my place as your scout, bodyguard, and night field commander.”

  “Replace you? Why?” he gasped with a contorted face of mockery.

  Qof-Ayin stepped closer to the prince, then said with his hand over his mouth, “I have a sickness. I caught it in Lamanihah. It would not do to be close to you.”

  Stepping backward, Almek shouted, “Stop, stay back, why does Zelph not have it?”

  “His blood is not as pure as it could be. His mother was a quarter Nephite. This sickness affects only pure bloods, I am afraid.”

  Almek made a hasty decision. “Very well, I suppose he is just as capable as you for these duties. He did slay Madoni, after all. Now get back and do not infect me or my ball team.”

  “Thank you, my prince,” they said, both bowing deep.

  As they stepped away Zelph asked, “How did you know he would fall for such a shallow, weak story?”

  “Almek cares only for himself and his own interests. He caught a bad case of the sickness when he was only twelve summers old. It forever weakened him and since then, he is afraid of getting sick. He will never be as strong as his brother Aaron. Never mind that there is no such thing as pure bloods. We are all one blood here, with a common father. It’s the hearts that have the impurities inside.”

  Both father and son came to the midday feast of the king, held in his palace on the cool westerly side. When Qof-Ayin told the king of Almek’s choice, both Zelph and Qof-Ayin hid their feelings, their joy and heartache, about the situation.

  “Forget not, Zelph, that once this war is over and won, you will return to be my bodyguard captain,” said Xoltec.

  “Yes, my king. What of the great axe you have present
ed me with? Do I give it to my father?”

  Biting into a wild turkey drumstick, Xoltec mused for a moment. “No, I had the Gadianton engineers make it for you. Keep it on this campaign to destroy the Nephites. You will wield it still when you return to serve me.”

  Mocking laughter came from Prince Almek who remarked, “Yes, once you return, you will serve him all your days, even to the tomb.”

  Qof-Ayin whispered to Zelph, “You are never coming back here. Promise me.”

  Although Zelph did not want to be parted from him, they each knew what had to be done. Neither one could deny what the Great Spirit had told them. Still Zelph hesitated.

  “Promise me,” Qof-Ayin urged, gripping Zelph’s mighty arm.

  “I promise.”

  King Xoltec spoke up again. “Something I forgot to mention earlier. Zelph, you will remain as my bodyguard for the next few weeks while I send Qof-Ayin on a mission.”

  Father and son exchanged surprised glances.

  The king continued, “You, Qof-Ayin, will go immediately to help verify the truth of Akish-Antum’s word that the Nephites are amassing at the borders. The other runners and spies are only a day or two ahead of you. We need our best man on this. So, after this fine meal, go and find the truth.” The king offhandedly tore into another piece of turkey.

  Zelph was stunned. What would happen now?

  “Patience my son, I will return,” said Qof-Ayin.

  The Voice of Lilith

  The road to Manti was well traveled and well kept. Merchants going up and down were at times congested in areas near swamps and sharp turns through forests. At these places, Amaron simply took his men overland. They cut through fields or woods and then easily made their way back to the road.

  Once, as they cut through a farmer’s orchard, the farmer shouted at them to stay off his property and away from his fruit trees. Daniel, Amaron’s oldest friend, calmly reached up and took an apple, biting into it in plain sight of the old man, who scowled at them.

  “That does not endear the scouts to the citizenry,” said Amaron.

  “I know, but we had done nothing wrong. He had no right to be rude in the first place,” said Daniel. He was taller than Amaron but of a thinner build. A wide grin perpetually split his face as if he knew a secret joke.

  Amaron and Daniel had been friends for years, though Daniel was a year older. It had been sometime since they had raced about together looking for girls. Amaron missed those times, but the past was the past. He had no regrets at how things change. That’s what life is.

  Amaron’s group consisted of Daniel, Judah, Obadiah, Benjamin, Jared, Lehi, Nephi, Pausanias, and Ezra. The first three were old friends who had drifted apart these last few years. Judah and Amaron were not as close as they used to be. Amaron guessed the strain came from a difference of values. Judah’s parents had disavowed Onandagus and all who stood with him. Judah did not take sides but neither did he serve Onandagus, his new patron was Judge Levi. He had agreed to come on this mission because the judge had been murdered a fortnight ago, leaving him without a means of income.

  Pausanias was another of Judge Levi’s personal guardsmen. Amaron did not like the spirit he felt off the man but had no specific complaints against him. Judah had insisted he must come. Amaron reluctantly agreed, but only after Ezra verified that Pausanias was not a Gadianton.

  Obadiah, a good friend of Amaron’s, had moved across the River Sidon to the city of Gideon, so they rarely saw each other any longer. In a moment of fortuitous timing, they had met when Amaron needed men he could trust. He had always been a good scout, quiet and reserved. After a beating at the hands of Gadiantons within the Bowl, blinding him in one eye, he preferred to stay out of Zarahemla. He needed work and looked forward to being out in the wilderness again. He felt secure out in the wilds, no dark alleys to get cornered in here. Many feared the wilderness, but not Obadiah.

  The next two, Benjamin and Jared, were the younger brothers of Daniel and Obadiah. Amaron did not know Jared, the brother of Obadiah, but he seemed a good lad of sixteen. He kept pace with the others and never complained.

  Amaron did not care one whit for Benjamin, Daniel’s brother. He was a drunkard. Since there would be no access to alcohol on the mission, Amaron had agreed to let him come.

  Lehi and Nephi were twins who enjoyed juvenile, tiresome pranks.

  As for Ezra, Amaron would at times pity him for his hard life, then he would remember Helam and get angry again. Amaron hoped that agreeing to retrieve Ezra’s cousin was not a mistake. They needed a tenth man, but what if the cousin was a Gadianton stooge like Ezra?

  Marching at a steady pace, Amaron let the drums within his head beat a good rhythm to lose himself and let the worries and anger fade away. His thoughts drifted to what their mission might find and accomplish. His group might not learn anything about the Gadiantons. Ezra himself knew precious little of their plans. No need to worry, thought Amaron. Worry profits a man nothing.

  “What are you thinking about?” asked Ezra, shaking Amaron from his daydreams.

  “Nothing, just watching the roads,” he snapped back.

  “Do you have any doubts about any of this?”

  “No, I do not. Why?”

  “You looked deep in thought and worried.”

  Amaron grunted. “Where in Manti does your cousin live?”

  “Near the north gate... we should have no trouble finding him. I assure you, he will be an asset,” said Ezra. “He is a fine bowman. Are you an archer?”

  “No, I’m not very good with a bow. When I was a boy, I was alright, but I put it down. Years later when I picked it up again, I had lost my skill.” Amaron turned his face away, not liking to admit that he was not well versed with every possible weapon.

  “I have never been very good myself.”

  Amaron cut him off, laughing cruelly, “I know, you are a Gadianton.”

  “I meant with a bow.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I am not a bad person,” continued Ezra.

  “Save it for Helam. Tell him that next time we see him.”

  “I wish I could take it all back and I could save your friend, but it was the dagger men. Not me.”

  “Yea, it was,” said Amaron as he threw a stone. “Stop talking to me. Say what you need to say about the mission and leave the rest. I don’t like you. You are here only because Onandagus thinks you will be useful for the mission.”

  The others looked at him. He said the words loud and harsh, and no one said anything for a few tense moments. Amaron had always been known for his temper, which had been even worse when he was younger.

  Daniel was the first to break the tension. “Take it easy, Amaron. He is just looking for a big brother, and you are big.” He laughed at his own joke.

  Amaron scowled. “Let us pick up our pace. We won’t make it tonight at this rate.”

  “We won’t make it tonight at any pace, let us find a camp,” said Pausanias.

  “True enough. We will put in another good hour’s march, find a good campsite, and reach Gideon by noon tomorrow.”

  They spoke little for the next hour as they went overland like vagabonds, skirting the road’s many pointless curves, through great forests and up low-slung hills covered in fresh spring growth. Here and there they cut across swamps, where the air hung heavy with damp rot. It was nearly dusk, and a light rain began to fall.

  “Be dark pretty soon. I would just as soon find a dry place to camp for the night,” drawled Judah.

  “Let’s make camp on the edge of that glen up ahead. The trees will give some shelter over there,” said Amaron, pointing a short distance away from the road’s edge.

  “Now you say we are on a secret mission, but I gotta ask, we are halfway between Zarahemla and Gideon, it’s not like we are in enemy territory, we oughta have a fire to cook our food,” said Daniel.

  “You’re right, just put it in a trench and keep it small, we don’t want any undue attention from any other travelers but
I think we will be alright at least until we get out into the true wilderness,” answered Amaron.

  It was a good spot with tall hickories and oaks, even a few stout pines stood low to shelter them on the east side. The glen was sheltered from wind and would block all but the keenest observer from the road. A trench was dug and the driest wood available was gathered as the rain dissipated. The near smokeless fire was soon blazing from its hidden trench, and they cooked some venison and corn with wild onions for their dinner. With two men on watch always, the others were able to eat and get ready for sleep.

  Amaron appointed himself for the first watch. He enjoyed the night. He walked a short distance from the camp to a place facing the road. Putting his back against a wide tree trunk so he would have no silhouette, he waited, ever watchful. Never once did he look toward the moon, as its brightness would destroy his night vision.

  He thought he could hear faint and fair voices carried across the soft wind. The azure star-flecked night must be playing tricks on his mind. It was coming closer... a woman’s voice, no, two women’s voices. As they drew near, he was able to make out the words that had seemed like a muted droning only a short moment before.

  “There must be somewhere we can shelter near, I like not these roads at night,” said the first.

  “Perhaps we should have stayed in Zarahemla, mistress.”

  “My business cannot wait,” said the first.

  “Yes, mistress.”

  Amaron stared into the darkness at the gathering shadow which now came to fill and give shape to the voices. He drew closer to get a better look at them, still shrouded in darkness. They were two women in incredibly fine clothes, one even fancier than the other. A hulking dark man was right behind them, walking slower than necessary. He had to be a bodyguard.

  “May I be of service?” asked Amaron, stepping out into the moonlight.

  They froze, visibly startled. The dark man drew a wide curved scimitar and assumed an attack/defensive position.

  “Hold,” Amaron called to the man. “I am no robber, nor any other threat to you. I am Amaron, captain of the city guard of Zarahemla.”