Thorns of Glory, page 17
He scowled at me. No surprise. I shrugged. If I’d offended him, maybe he’d stay awake a little better.
Steffanie stopped hard. “Oh. My. Crud.”
I almost chuckled. That was a curse word? More like a punch line. Yet her delivery was chilling. She was peering southwest, toward Cumorah’s defensive walls. As I finally saw what she saw, a different phrase came to my mind. One I can’t repeat.
The enemy was pouring over the first fortification wall. Even from this distance, it was crystal clear that they were slaughtering every Nephite who made any effort to slow ’em down. ’Bout half of the towers on the outer wall were blazing. In the smoky smear, I counted at least a dozen tense skirmishes. Nephite defenders were being mowed down like weeds. Stairways leading down from many of the towers were jam-packed with soldiers from Mormon’s Jaguar Division. These guys were presumably the best of the best. Didn’t matter. They scrambled away from the killing zone, crawling over each other like insects to get away from that wall. Many leapt. Others were so crammed they couldn’t get to the edge to jump. Their goal was obviously to reach the next line of defense—the central wall—but the smoldering ditch was an obstacle they’d have to cross. Nephites might’ve thought they’d planned for this, but those plans weren’t gonna work out. Gangplanks—sorta like drawbridges—were being lowered into the place so retreating soldiers could traverse the fiery ditch. The original idea the Nephites must’ve had was to cross these bridges while the tar was cold, then pull in those drawbridges and light up the ditch themselves. Flaming arrows from the Lamanites in the middle of the night had flipped that plan on its head.
In full-throttle desperation, soldiers crossed those drawbridges, but some of those bridges were also catching fire. Holy Toledo! One drawbridge was packed to the gills as burning tar swallowed it in flames. Men on the outer edge spilled into the flames—forced off by the press of soldiers behind them. Even from this far away, I heard their screams. Soldiers who were already positioned on the second wall fired arrows at Knotties who pursued the Nephites down the stairways. How could archers know their arrows wouldn’t hit their own men? Truth was, they didn’t care. Anyone unlucky enough to be on the far side of the burning moat was being picked off by defenders on the second wall, whether Nephites or Lamanites. Then the flaming bridge collapsed. Thing snapped right down the middle, pouring a hundred or more men into the scorching tar.
Steff and Kerra gasped in disbelief at the tragedy.
Then Steff found her head and barked more commands. “Keep going! Keep moving!”
I couldn’t help but wonder how long before there were no barriers between us and our enemies. They might be inside the main part of the fortress, among all of the old men, women, and children, within minutes, not hours.
We kept moving along the southeastern ridge until more Nephite defenders came into view. Hundreds of ’em. And then thousands. I recognized their standards—the Scorpion banners of Captain Gidgiddonihah. They were basically poles topped by some kinda wood and papier-mâché sculpture that was s’posed to look like a scorpion. It was carried by boys my age and younger. I also recognized the warriors’ Scorpion helmets and shields. We’d made it! We’d found the Scorpion Division. It was like finding the haystack. Finding Gid was like finding the needle. There were ten thousand guys packed around us, each of ’em hustling about. Again I thought of insects, but this time it was worker ants. How were we s’posed to find the Scorpion Captain in this madness? Gid wasn’t the type to stay out of a fight, doling out orders from under a canopy, safely behind the action. He would be right in the fray. No doubt about that.
Scorpions were packed along the edge of the cliff, firing down arrows, hurling stones, busting up and pushing over ladders that Lamanites were trying to climb. Things were getting frantic. My heart was zipping inside my chest like a buzz saw.
“There he is!” Kidd pointed his finger. He thought he saw Gidgiddonihah. The boy rarely spoke, so if Kidd said he’d spotted Gid, seemed like we oughta pay attention.
We weaved between the soldiers crisscrossing around us, in the general direction where Kidd had pointed. The Scorpions were too distracted in their duties to slow us down or even care. Kidd stopped, making the rest of us stop.
“Where is he?” asked SaKerra.
Kidd was biting his lip, eyes searching. Obviously he’d lost sight of whoever he’d spotted in the uproar of men. An arrow embedded itself in the dirt not five feet ahead of us. A Lamanite arrow. Criminy! They were firing up as the Nephites were firing down, letting their arrows arc. A soldier was hit! He made a strange gurgling sound. Another Scorpion staggered at my right. He dropped his weapons and turned, revealing his face, eyes wide and rolling around in his head like a carnival clown. The plummeting arrow had landed right in his mouth! Dude must’ve been gaping up dumbly at the sky. He grasped the shaft and tried to yank it free. This only tore the flesh under his chin. Blood gushed, and I looked away. What had the four of us walked into?
I tried to steel my nerves, numb my emotions. Enemy arrows continued to fall with thumps and twangs as they stuck in the dirt. One hit something hard—top of a helmet maybe—and shattered the arrowhead. A piece hit my hip. No damage, but it was another dose of reality. We forged on, ignoring everything except our mission to locate Gid.
Through all the moving bodies, I swore I caught several glimpses of the back of Gid’s helmet. Steffanie kept us moving forward. Soldiers hollered and shouted and barked commands, but one voice cut through. It had more authority. Then I saw it—the feathered helmet of the Scorpion Commander, not fifteen feet ahead.
Kerra saw it too. “Gidgiddonihah!”
No reaction. He kept his back to us, organizing line after line of men to hurl stones over the cliff to eliminate some terrible threat from below that we couldn’t see.
“Gid!” Steffanie shouted.
Still no reaction. We were almost there. Finally, Kerra reached the helmeted commander. She cried his name again, grabbed his shoulder. The man spun around, teeth bared in fury, wondering who’d dare interfere with his actions at a time like this. The man was not Gidgiddonihah.
It was Ukiah, Gid’s second-in-command. He’d come to our camp a couple of times to fetch his Captain. He looked a lot like Gid. Dude coulda been Gid’s brother. Now, as I saw his helmet from the front, the differences were obvious. Ukiah’s helmet didn’t have as many plumes. Different colors. Differently arranged.
“By the hellfire of Itzamna!” he cursed. “Who are you?”
Kerra was so befuddled by her mistake and by Ukiah’s thundering voice that she just gaped. Steff was also stunned to silence.
I stepped forward and took charge. “Where’s Captain Gid?”
“Get your carcasses off this ridge! All of you!” he roared. (He didn’t say “carcasses,” but . . . anyway.)
Ukiah refocused on his original task, ignoring our presence completely. His thunderous voice shouted more orders. He hefted one humongous stone himself, lambasting his troops for aiming “like women!” (Again, not his exact term, but close enough.) Another ladder clattered into place against the cliff’s edge, near Ukiah’s feet. He raised his arms and dropped another stone. I heard shrieking below. Two more Scorpions grabbed either side of the ladder and heaved it mightily to the left, grunting as they let it go. The ladder fell. This small success didn’t stop other Scorpions from dropping a hail of stones over the edge. I still couldn’t see who they were attacking. It was either bottlenecks of Lamanites or soldiers attempting to raise more ladders. Some ladders apparently fell into place just inches below the ledge, making it that much harder for Nephites determined to toss ’em aside. Close enough to the top, however, that any Lamanites who managed to make the climb could’ve pulled themselves onto the ledge. I never got close enough to see the enemy below them. Blame my fear of heights (combined with my fear of being impaled by arrows zinging upward).
Steff and Kerra were pressing further south, eyes peeled for any sign of Gidgiddonihah. I couldn’t hardly see over the top of anyone. How were we s’posed to find this guy? I made eye contact with a Nephite boy—one of the banner carriers. Younger than me, I think. Hard to tell with all the soot on his face. He stared back like I was some kinda alien. Maybe he wondered why I wasn’t carrying a banner myself or otherwise helping in the cause.
An arrow struck him! Right before my eyes! He gasped and started to stumble. His Scorpion banner, with its bright-red sculpture, feathers, and ribbons, started to topple with him. On impulse, I leaped and caught the kid. The latest volley of arrows had struck five or six others, too. Could’ve just as easily been me. I held him upright. He wasn’t dead. The arrow was stuck in his shoulder. He gazed up at me weirdly, trembling, moaning a freaky moan, tears flooding his eyes. I looked up and about. Kidd had managed to catch the banner itself. Steff and Kerra were gawking at us.
“Medic!” I shouted. Sounded stupid even as I blurted it out. Did I think this was a rerun of M*A*S*H? Did this army even have medics?
Someone lifted the boy out of my arms. Not even sure who the man was. He didn’t make eye contact with me. He wore a Scorpion uniform but carried no weapons. I shrugged. Medic, I guessed. In any case, he carried the boy west, away from the cliff, and disappeared into a forest of soldiers. The others who’d been struck by arrows, whether dead or alive, were also dragged away.
Someone grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and wrenched me around. The banner was taken from Kidd and thrust into my hands. The face glaring down on me was Commander Ukiah. I musta looked oblivious, ’cause he grabbed my arm and painfully forced my fingers to grip the banner pole. His black eyes pressed into mine like shotgun barrels.
“The standard is yours!” he bellowed. “Carry it high. Move when and where I tell you. The warriors will rally to where you stand.”
I stuttered, trying to object, but I couldn’t get out the words. I don’t think it would’ve mattered. His words weren’t a suggestion. Ukiah’d issued a command. The officer next turned his attention on Kerra, Steff, and Kidd. He motioned to several Scorpions from his personal bodyguard.
“Take these three down the hill,” he ordered. “Get them out of here.”
I was still trying to stutter some kinda response. Kerra and Steff protested fiercely, but they were ignored. Ukiah gave me one last look to make sure I’d understood his directive. Those eyes said it all: Obey or die. I doubted there was a middle option. Then he was gone—off to deal with other parts of the battle. When I glanced back, Kerra, Steff, and Kidd had disappeared. Ukiah’s men had ushered them away with incredible speed. Just like that, I was alone. Terror rippled through me, head to toe. I might’ve heard Sis call my name, but it was faint. She was already far away. I couldn’t gauge the direction. I contemplated tossing away the banner and bolting down the hill to find ’em. It was futile. They’d be as hard to locate now as Gid himself. What just happened?! I’d been drafted! My whole world had been twisted inside out.
I had no idea what this job was all about or what I was s’posed to do. I looked up at the stupid papier-mâché Scorpion with its dangling ribbons and feathers, my brain in a whirl. As the first rays of sunrise hit it, the sculpture’s red paint still looked wet, like blood. Maybe some of it was blood.
In the next few heartbeats, I made the connection between the Scorpion Division and the Scorpion standard. Yeah, I know: Duh! As I held the pole higher, Nephite warriors, just as Ukiah had said, gathered toward my position and then whipped past me. I finally got it. The banner was a rallying point. I’m sure I sound like a doofus admitting that prior to this I didn’t have a clue. Without sayin’ or doin’ anything, I was directing men to join their comrades near the cliff’s edge, where the fighting was growing fiercer.
I searched again for Kerra, Kidd, and Steff. Hopeless. I was a Scorpion now. A bannerboy. I still held my obsidian sword in my free hand, but I’d lost my knife. Dropped it as I’d caught the other boy. It was gone now. Some deadbeat soldier musta claimed it.
The pole was heavy. I needed both hands to keep it upright. Other standard-bearers carried no weapons at all. Maybe it was an unwritten rule that bannerboys oughta be left alone. Only boys, after all. Least, I hoped this was the policy. Still, it was unavoidable that some might die by accident or get themselves wounded like the kid who’d carried this thing before me. Either way, I wasn’t giving up my sword.
I strapped it back behind my shoulder, balancing the standard in my elbow to keep it upright. I guessed it was like an American flag. Couldn’t touch the ground or somethin’ like that. For another minute, I just stood in place, watching warriors rush past me toward the cliff. Feelings stirred inside me. A surge of . . . well, not power exactly, but the Scorpions were responding to my banner. My part in this battle was no small thing.
No sooner had I thought this when someone shouted at me. “Standard-bearer! South! Move south!”
It wasn’t Ukiah, but Ukiah stood a short distance beyond this officer, nodding his approval. They wanted me to lead the division down the cliffline. I swallowed the lump in my throat and headed south. A wave of Scorpions fell in beside me. Most stayed at their posts along the cliff’s edge, raining hell upon any Knotties brave enough to try to scale it. Again I thought of my sister, Steff, and Kidd. They’d never just leave me here . . . Would they? As soon as they found Gid, I’d be relieved of these duties, right? I could go back to them. We could all vacate this death trap. Flee the fighting. Or so I convinced myself.
The ground sloped downhill slightly, allowing me to look over the heads of some of the troops. I started noticing something different. A new pattern, as if an emcee had ordered the dancers to stop waltzing and do the cha-cha. Whereas clusters of men had been flowing forward like a slow-moving river, spear tips and helmets a hundred yards to the south seemed to coil into a kind of whirlpool.
Weapons clashed. I heard the ping of shattering obsidian. An eerie uneasiness slowed the forward progress of troops around me. Took me a moment to realize . . . My gosh! Some of the Lamanites had successfully scaled the cliff! The enemy was here! Nephites and Knotties were fighting hand-to-hand! My legs throbbed, fire oozing in to replace the blood. The unthinkable was happening. The bad guys had gained a foothold on the ledge.
A weird silence descended over the battle. War whoops to the south faded. Of course, the drums and whistles never let up, but those sounds hardly registered in my brain anymore. I heard awful grunts and gasps just ahead. I stopped. Other warriors stopped too, maybe because I’d stopped. Then I decided the sudden stall had nothing to do with me. The tide of the battle was shifting. Scorpions at the front were using all their strength to drive the Lamanites back, back, back—over the cliff edge. Howls and screams told me some were succeeding. Seconds later the yelling had a different tone. A new note. I felt a nauseating sensation. Dread and awe were beginning to clamp down on the Nephite forces.
My left ear was nearly ripped off the side of my head by someone’s fingers.
Ukiah glared at my face and blustered, “You were ordered south! SOUTH!”
Why was I to blame?! It wasn’t just me; all the soldiers had frozen midstep, trying to figure out what was happening. Ukiah dragged me by the ear. I stumbled over rocks and brush, but the jerk kept dragging me. I released the pole—deliberately—to stop the pain. Ukiah’s other hand clenched a huge obsidian weapon. Not even sure I’d call it a sword. Thing was bigger than a skateboard and serrated with bloody obsidian teeth. Somehow he caught my banner and pushed the pole back into my palm without releasing my ear.
His stale breath blasted into my eardrum, making it ring. “Get your hind end to the front of the battle! Make them rally to you! Understand? Make the Scorpions rally!” (Is it even necessary anymore to say I’m censoring Ukiah’s actual words?)
He kept hoisting me forward, screaming at his men. “Forward, you curs! To the front! To the front! Fight for your lives! This is the day we waited for! Now, fight! FIGHT!”
I don’t know how close to the front line he dragged me. Halfway? Three-fourths? I’d had enough. I took a risk that Ukiah would tear my ear clean off and yanked myself free. My ear burned with pain as I shouted back at him. Here’s the sanitized version: “Let go of my ear, you unholy ape! Back off!”
My adrenaline and heartbeat were so off the charts it didn’t occur to me that he might’ve used that oversized skateboard to chop me in half like a lumberjack. He scowled, yes, but there was also a hint of humor. Hardly mattered, ’cause in the next instant, Ukiah was gone. He leapt back into the fray. Neanderthal had dragged me all the way to the front line! Or else the front line had conveniently moved toward us.
There was a tremendous collision of men. My ear still throbbed, but the battle cry of soldiers penetrated, more rabid than ever. I was still deciding where to focus my eyes when a Knotty stabbed a Scorpion directly to my left. I mean directly. The Knotty could’ve killed me without adjusting his stance. Must’ve decided I wasn’t a threat, ’cause he lunged at the Nephite right behind the one he’d already killed, like I was Casper the Ghost.
Ukiah’s efforts to rally his men worked. The reluctant Scorpions had followed us. They’d pursued my standard as I’d held it high. The rage had reached a fever pitch. The Knotties’ northward push was halted. I dodged fighters. They swirled around me like wasps. Blood splattered my face—whether Nephite or Lamanite, I didn’t know. A blur of weapons sliced at every corner of my vision. It was like some berserk dance—bodies whipping and contorting. Men hissed, roared, grunted, died. I saw limbs flying—fingers, arms, chunks of flesh. Screams were like a living thing, rising and falling, thrusting forward and backward in waves. It had a crazy rhythm—drums, howls, throat-shredding screams. Acid guitars, synthesizers. A stampede at a heavy-metal concert.
There was weird logic to it. The Scorpions were defending me! I was encircled by fighters. I realized many Lamanites looked at my papier-mâché Scorpion like it was a shimmering jewel. They lusted after it. They wanted it, like a golden prize. My Nephite defenders were straining all their energies to stop ’em. For the Scorpions, there was no greater shame than allowing my banner to get stolen. They could die rejoicing, but only if I maintained my grip on that banner.
