In All Places (Stripling Warrior)

by Misty Moncur

  My eyes shot back to him.

  “Don’t make me a liar.”

  His words hung in the air between us all. No one moved. Finally, Micah turned and swept aside the mat at the door to leave.

  I spoke to his back, telling myself not to say the words even as they came out of my mouth. “You know, what Kenai did to me was no worse than what you did to him.”

  A slight pause as he passed over the threshold was the only sign he gave that he heard me.

  No one said anything as we prepared for bed, and the morning was uncomfortably quiet too. Micah hadn’t come in for the night, but like us, he had been sleeping on the ground for years. No one was particularly worried about that, and I didn’t feel guilty for driving him to it. He probably preferred it anyway. Though I hadn’t wanted to hurt him, I didn’t wish my words unsaid. It was how I felt. I thought it was how we all felt, and maybe it had needed to be said at least once.

  Especially since Kenai wasn’t there to say it for himself.

  As the weeks went on, Kenai’s absence in Melek was glaringly obvious, and there was little question that Micah’s betrothal was a big part of the reason he hadn’t come home. He had signed himself up for another battle, followed the moving front of the war. How much more blatantly could he say he didn’t want to be at home?

  “Hello, Mui,” I said as I knelt near my old goat. I scrubbed at her scruffy ears and then began to milk her. I gave her an extra pat before I moved on to Abigail.

  “Keturah?” I heard the shy voice from the other side of our fence and looked up to see Chloe.

  “Hi!” I said cheerfully, grateful for the sweet face that interrupted my dark thoughts.

  I remembered how she used to call me Ket-ah because she couldn’t say my whole name. She had called me Ket-ah on the morning I had left with the stripling army. She had run and jumped into my arms, clung to me. I had many such memories of her, all very fond, but I knew any memories she had of me must be very vague now.

  Chloe came through the gate. She was tentative, but I could tell her exuberant nature had not changed. Her eyes were bright, and her smile was contagious. Besides, I had seen her playing with Micah and Muloki.

  “May I help?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I said, moving back from Abigail to let her near.

  Chloe moved close and began to milk Abigail, talking to her, almost cooing her greeting.

  I observed for a moment. “Chloe, was Abigail your goat?”

  “Oh, no,” she said. “She is Mui’s baby. She is your family’s goat.”

  “Little Kanina,” I tried again, addressing this sweet seven year old girl with the endearment that meant the most to me. “Is Abigail your friend?”

  She just looked at me, and then at the goat.

  “She is, isn’t she?”

  Chloe nodded.

  Of course she had bonded with this goat. It had probably been born in her yard. She had watched it grow.

  “Why do you call me rabbit?” she asked.

  “It’s what my mother calls me. To me, it is a way of saying ‘I love you.’”

  “You love me?” she asked, wrinkling her nose in disbelief.

  “Yes. We were good friends when you were little. You probably don’t remember.”

  “I remember you,” she said. “You are the girl that fights with Zeke.”

  I laughed a little and shifted my weight so my legs wouldn’t go numb from kneeling on them so long. “I am the girl who fights with the army,” I clarified.

  She looked at me a moment in confusion. “No,” she said slowly, her eyes focused on something in the past. “Zeke said, ‘I swear that girl lives to fight with me.’”

  I laughed again at how she boisterously mimicked his voice. “That sounds about right. When did he say that?”

  She frowned. “All the time I think.”

  “Did he say it when he came for his visit last fall?”

  She shook her head. “No. He said, ‘Father, the time is not right.’ And Father said, ‘Micah fears you will lose her if you wait.’”

  I looked down at the top of her dark head, trying to keep my curiosity in check.

  “And that,” she emphasized, “is when Zeke said, ‘If that’s what she wants, she can spend her life fighting with someone else.’”

  I thought about this for a long time, much longer than it took us to finish milking the goats.

  The men of the village built a new hut for Micah and his bride on a small side street of the village. Micah had chosen the location for its proximity to the stream, the large mahogany trees that grew around the little yard, and, I thought, so they would be far enough away that Kenai would not have to look at them together at all hours of the day if he ever came home.

  They were married on a hot evening in sultry air. I expected Zeke to show up. I hoped he would.

  While I stared at the food on my plate during the celebration that night, Dinah said, “Hemni sent word to Zeke of the date, but he was not able to leave his duties.”

  He was a chief captain over five hundred now, she had said with motherly pride, and thus he had many important responsibilities in re-establishing the economic prosperity and the Church of God in the southern Nephite holdings.

  Personally I thought Zeke stayed away out of loyalty to Kenai, his best friend. Zeke was loyal like that.

  Kenai had done the same thing after Zeke and Gideon had fought at the falls. He wouldn’t be a part of my training anymore or a part of my blossoming relationship with Gideon, and he had stayed clear of it in silent support of his friend.

  I knew Zeke loved Cana. He loved Micah too—looked up to and respected him, regarded him as a brother. But I felt deep in my heart that his absence was a deliberate show of support for Kenai.

  And I feared it was also a deliberate avoidance of me.

  The day that followed the wedding was just as hot. The market was crowded with people when Mother and I entered the square with our small baskets.

  Mother no longer made any pretense that her main purpose in coming to the market was to see Kalem. Now that I knew Mother was aware of his marriage, I could detect little things she did to keep a boundary between them. It always made me sad when she circled the table so she wouldn’t pass closely by Kalem or left the market before he’d had a chance to flatter her or give her something pretty. I knew they loved each other dearly, and I was finally okay with it.

  When I had been younger, I had deeply resented Kalem’s presence in my life—giving Mother food and teaching my brothers to hunt, fish, and farm. Things a father might have done. But he and I had bonded over the sword I had gotten from Joab at the training ground. Despite concern over hurting my mother, Kalem had made it into a beautiful piece of art. One that was covered with blood stains now—but that only spoke to the quality of the sword.

  When we approached Kalem’s tables, he stood with a ready smile and greeted us.

  “Where is Muloki?” I asked him as I cast my eyes around the square.

  Kalem smiled teasingly. He was not as bent on my marrying Zeke as the rest of my family was. Occasionally, I caught him teasing Muloki about me, too, when they thought I wouldn’t hear them. I always worried that this teasing would encourage Muloki to press me for more than the good friendship we had. But Muloki, though he flirted shamelessly with me, never asked for or expected anything more serious from me.

  “He is with Pontus, little daughter.”

  I smiled at the affectionate way he addressed me.

  “Thanks,” I told him and set off in that direction, pushing and dodging my way through the throngs of people.

  Melek was filled with refugees who were fleeing from Moroni’s armies in the east. It was said that he was taking the eastern lands by the sea with a vengeance, and sometimes, especially when I was lonely, I wished I was there with Kenai and Jarom.

  I stepped up behind Muloki, noticing his shoulders looked especially broad in his red tunic. The ends of his black hair curled lightly around his ears a
nd the back of his neck. It was really a shame I could not love him, I thought.

  He was completing a purchase. Pontus handed him a small wrapped package and they clasped arms.

  “Hi, Muloki,” I said. “Hello, Pontus.”

  I might have been mistaken, but I thought Muloki blushed. He tucked the package into his satchel and gave my hair a tug.

  I punched him in the arm and turned to Pontus. “Show me the goods,” I told him.

  He grinned and pulled the cover off a tray he already had before him. He must have seen me coming. He knew I was not here to look at the jewelry he displayed.

  I leaned forward and studied the elaborate knives and daggers on the tray.

  “Looks like you got a good supply of obsidian,” I noted. “This is not from our mountains.”

  “No,” he agreed. “It is from the lands far to the north.” He pointed to a large spearhead forged of steel. “This comes from across the sea. I was only able to afford this one.”

  “Do you have a buyer in mind?” He wouldn’t have purchased something of this nature unless he did.

  “Certainly. She is about so tall.” He held his stout hand at the level of the top of my head. “Long hair. Brown eyes. A penchant for deadly weapons.”

  I laughed and glanced at Muloki who also showed his amusement. I was not a prospective buyer for the spearhead. I had no need whatsoever for a steel spearhead. Besides, I preferred flint for spears.

  “Do you think it would go well with this sarong?” I asked them, holding the steel up to my shoulder and posing for their opinion.

  “Perfect. Very beautiful,” said Muloki with a warm gaze.

  “Quite, but I’ll leave the pretty compliments to the young man,” Pontus added with a wink.

  I placed the spearhead back on the tray. “Did you sell those beautiful arrowheads?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Pontus said. “I sold them to an overconfident, swaggering young man who said he needed them to shoot rabbits.”

  I looked up at him. “If he wants rabbits, I hope you tried to sell him one of those snares too.”

  “I think he already has snares set,” Pontus said, and I thought he was trying not to laugh.

  I looked at him for a moment longer trying to figure out what was so funny. I glanced over my shoulder at Muloki to see if he had caught Pontus’s joke, but he was looking across the square at a group of people. I followed his gaze. More refugees from the looks of it.

  “I know her,” I said suddenly. It was clear that we were looking at the same girl. She was the most beautiful in the bunch, standing a little apart from the others in a blue sarong that looked very much like the one she had held up to me on a similar market day.

  “Thank you, Pontus,” I said as I gripped Muloki’s elbow and towed him across the square.

  When we neared the people, I called out to the girl.

  “Melia!”

  Chapter 17

  Melia turned when she heard her name, and when she saw me she burst into a relieved grin. I broke away from Muloki, and we flew into each other’s arms.

  “I hoped I would find you!” she exclaimed.

  “Did you find your father?” I looked around. “Did you make it to Nephihah? How is your grandfather?”

  “Grandfather died almost a year ago. I did go to Nephihah, but my father was not there, or I could not find him if he was.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “But I’m so glad you’ve come. Mother is here and Micah. You remember Micah. He is married now, and you will love his wife as well.”

  Melia looked past me to Muloki. “I can’t wait to see your mother,” she said.

  “Oh!” I turned and stepped aside. “This is Muloki, my…” I bit my lip. “My friend.”

  Muloki rested a hand on her shoulder and said, “Hello, Melia.” He kept her gaze and let his hand linger on her shoulder.

  “And is your Ezekiel here in Melek?” Melia asked brazenly. It was obvious that she wished to know the exact nature of my friendship with Muloki. How I had missed Melia’s boldness!

  I shook my head. “No. He is yet in the southlands. He has not been discharged from the army.”

  “I thought your army was voluntary.”

  “It is.” I took a breath. “He chooses to stay.”

  Melia gave me a look of sympathy but turned her eyes back to Muloki. “And you do not fight with the army?” she challenged playfully.

  He smiled at her, not at all shamed by her question. “I have served a great deal of time in the army and given much.”

  “All five of his brothers died.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Tell us what is happening in Nephihah,” I begged her. “Kenai is there, and Jarom.”

  She giggled. “Jarom did not race his brother home to get to you first?”

  “Melia!” I caught the look of interest on Muloki’s face. He was too perceptive to miss it. He was not missing anything because of the language these days. “No. I think Kenai talked him out of it. They’re together, I think, in Nephihah. But enough about that. What is happening there? Is it as they say?”

  A shadow fell over her face. “What do they say?”

  Muloki spoke before I could. “We have heard that the Lamanites flee before Moroni’s army, that he forces them all from the land. That he raises the Title of Liberty wherever he goes and persuades his countrymen to take up the cause of freedom.”

  Melia smiled wanly. “Yes, I think that is the way of it.”

  I looked deeply into her eyes. “You can stay with Mother and me. And Darius. He’s home now too. Come, let’s go find Mother. She’s here in the market.”

  After Melia said a farewell to those with whom she had traveled, we found a quieter path and made our way to Kalem’s tables. Muloki and I flanked Melia, and she told us how she had petitioned Helaman for several units of the striplings to escort her and some others to Nephihah after her grandfather had died.

  “I looked there for months with no luck. Soldiers and civilians from all the neighboring cities were pouring through the gates in fear of the Nephite armies that marched through the land. And the more people that came, the more difficult it was to look for him. I had almost determined to come here to Melek to find you when one morning we woke up and the Nephite army was inside the city walls!”

  “You weren’t hurt…or anything?” Muloki asked. He was a Lamanite warrior, and of course his mind would go to the atrocities soldiers often did to women. He must have seen vicious things. Perhaps he had even done some himself, though I couldn’t imagine it.

  “No. Moroni’s army was fierce and terrible, but only to the soldiers there. To the women and children they were as gentle as lambs.”

  I laughed. “I won’t tell them you said that.”

  She smiled at that. “They gave us the option to come to Melek,” she went on, “and I didn’t even have to think about it before I agreed. The terms did not matter.”

  “What were the terms?” Muloki wanted to know.

  But we had arrived at Kalem’s tables.

  “Mother!” I said. “Look who I have found!”

  Mother hurried around the table to hug Melia as I had. “It is so good to know you’re safe!” Mother said.

  “Leah! I’ve missed you both so much!” They stepped back and regarded each other with grins, but then Melia’s gaze slipped past Mother to Kalem and she stilled. Her only movement was the smile that fell slowly from her face. For a moment it was as if she was unable to move, but then she shook herself free of whatever troubled her and gave Mother a weak smile.

  Slowly she stepped out of Mother’s arms and approached Kalem, who was by then regarding her just as curiously as she regarded him.

  “Are you Kalem?” she asked him in her bold way.

  He gave a nod, and I saw tears form at the corners of his eyes.

  I caught Mother’s eye. Could this possibly be what it looked to be?

  I looked back to Kalem and Melia. They stood still, staring at each other,
both with unreadable expressions, for long moments. Finally, Kalem’s bottom lip began to tremble and he looked as though he might break down in sobs.

  But he held them back and said softly, “You look just like your mother.”

  Melia smiled at last, a small tentative smile. “No. She said I looked like you.”

  Muloki nudged me, and I looked up at him. “Did you know?” he mouthed.

  I shook my head. How could I have?

  Darius had never met Melia, so he was slightly less amazed at the happenstance than Mother and I were. But for a boy who had once craved Kalem’s attention so much for himself, he was content to let Melia have it all during the evening meal.

  “Mother died years ago, and I went to live with Grandfather,” Melia explained while we ate.

  “When did you start looking for me?” Kalem asked as he handed his empty dish to Mother, and his eyes followed her as she took it inside the hut.

  “Almost immediately.”

  “And your grandfather agreed to this?” I noticed Kalem was careful not to speak Zeram’s name aloud. Speaking the name of the dead would not be polite.

  “It was his idea. He felt Mother had overreacted and been unfair.” She blushed a little. “I took longer to warm to the idea.”

  “I only wonder that you did at all,” Kalem replied, genuinely humbled.

  “Grandfather explained how he thought Mother had been unfair. He even said it was his fault, giving her whatever she wanted all the time.”

  Kalem nodded slowly, lost in his past.

  “We started in Zarahemla and spent a lot of time there searching for you and learning the languages. I took to them quite well, because of my youth, Grandfather said. And Grandfather had of course been schooled in languages when he was young. Finally, someone told us the people of Ammon lived in the land of Jershon. But when we went there, you had all moved to make room for the Nephite armies. We came to Melek next and learned that you had traveled with the striplings, so we set off to search the cities in the south.”

  “You haven’t had a very good life,” Kalem said morosely.

  “Oh, Grandfather was wonderful to me. He taught me so many things during our travels. When I was little, he played games with me as we walked from place to place. He was determined to set things right. I always knew that, and I always respected him for it. I’ve had a good life, Father.” Melia said his name tentatively, trying it out. She clasped his hand in both of hers. “Let your heart be at ease about that.”