Thorns of Glory, page 23
“We must go,” said Jacobah urgently.
With sharp regret, Ammara nodded in agreement, placed what was left in her travel sack, and followed Lehi up the steep path. Jesse was standing, but he did not look steady. Harry pulled Jesse’s good arm around his own neck. Together, they recommenced the climb.
Jacobah took the most thankless job of all, remaining behind, forced to brandish his spear to prevent other hungry mouths and churning stomachs from pursuing us up the slope. The path was narrow, otherwise they’d have gone around him. Some tried climbing the impervious, crumbling cliff, always sliding back. Perhaps it was our good fortune that we’d started ascending at a place where none could follow. Or perhaps this was to our eternal condemnation. Should we have just given it all away? The clump of tortillas was already over half consumed, and hundreds of additional children were scurrying out of their shanties. They were soon joined by curious adults, a few of them armed with clubs. These, without a doubt, would have fought us for our food, hardly concerned whether they might be killed in such an attempt.
Harry insisted to Jesse, “I’ll carry you on my shoulders, like Jacobah did. Just watch the nose. Bit tender.”
Jesse shook his head, teeth gritted. “I’ll walk. I’ll walk. It’ll be faster.”
I had my doubts, but he staggered on as Harry did his best to support Jesse’s weight. The strain in the orphan’s face revealed excruciating pain. Still, his progress was impressive. Tashlín, Ammara, and I climbed the slope behind them, but they did not hinder our speed. Our pathway cut into the slope beside a splashing brook. It gurgled to the bottom of the incline. The water smelled no less foul. I presumed this was because the camps above us were equally neglectful about dumping waste.
Lehi had already arrived at one of these populated plateaus, peering down at us impatiently. A commotion had erupted on the shelf behind him. This disturbance was difficult to distinguish from the ruckus at the base of the incline or the distant pandemonium of battle. Several faces appeared on either side of Lehi, but these persons were not concerned about him, nor about us. These men were elderly. They pointed agitatedly toward the southeast. Lehi looked in the direction they indicated. Even from my angle below him I perceived that the color drained from Lehi’s face.
Our view of whatever they observed was impeded by the crag on the opposite side of the brook. It was certainly visible to the men and children at the bottom of the path. They were also gawking toward the southeast. The crowd began dispersing frantically. Jacobah could see the phenomenon as well. It was difficult for him to tear his eyes away as he struggled to reach us.
As soon as Harry felt Jacobah’s ears were in range, he shouted, “What’s going on?”
Jacobah did not reply. He was already exhausted from carrying Jesse. Whatever he’d seen had reinvigorated his energy to climb, but it couldn’t restore the breath in his lungs. Or he was too stunned to describe it. We pursued Harry and Jesse up the slope, our pace quickening. Jesse and Harry were finally hindering our progress.
Jacobah had reached the same elevation where our view to the southeast had been obstructed. The crag that blocked his vision prompted him to climb more rapidly without distractions. Above us I watched more people step into place beside Lehi, but their expressions continually changed as a general sense of alarm and hysteria escalated.
Harry cried down to Jacobah again, hoping he might at last provide some details. “What’s happening?”
“The Lamanites,” he said, gasping for breath, “have breached the escarpments.”
Ammara shuddered, stricken by dread.
Whatever gift of tongues a time-traveler presumably possessed, I failed to grasp the significance of Jacobah’s words. I asked Ammara, “What does that mean?”
“The eastern cliffs,” she replied. “The Lamanites have scaled them. I can’t believe it’s true. Of all Zenephi’s defenses, the escarpments . . . My husband said they were impregnable—the easiest place of fortification to defend.”
“The same cliffs where the Fox Division was rescued?”
“Rescued” was a kind way to put it.
Ammara nodded but didn’t quite understand how I could fail to grasp the dire implications. “No other barriers sit between . . . The city will be entirely exposed!”
These southeastern cliffs were also the place Gid’s division had been assigned to defend. It was precisely where SaKerra, Kidd, and Brock had been headed.
Ammara whispered vaguely, “Already.” Then with greater emphasis, “Already.”
It was a declaration of astonishment. If Mormon’s daughter-in-law was shocked that Cumorah’s bulwarks at its southeastern flank had been breached so early, the populace was surely descending into full-scale panic.
Sixteen-year-old Tashlín took Ammara’s hand. She spoke with admirable calmness. “We must reach the top, Mother. They will meet us. They promised.”
Tashlín’s words jostled Ammara from her stupefaction. She forced a smile at her daughter, and the climbing resumed.
As we staggered onto the plateau, Lehi was poised alone at the edge. The area’s denizens were scurrying about, mindlessly gathering whatever they could carry, resolute in their determination to flee. But flee to where? Dozens of the healthier, stronger residents were already ascending more precipitous trails, bypassing well-trodden switchbacks to accelerate their progress.
I looked toward the settlement of Zenephi. Harry, Jacobah, and Lehi stood beside me at the edge, spellbound, their minds consumed by the horror of what they beheld on the southeastern ridge. Mormon’s divisions in that region were in full retreat. Lamanites popped into view by the hundreds along the rim where the Nephites had labored so long and hard to carve those escarpments. A seemingly limitless supply of stones, arrows, and darts had been piled behind a berm that ran parallel to the rim. This ordnance had surely been in place for weeks, months—years!—with the intent to destroy any force that dared penetrate Zenephi’s boundary at this location. The Nephite retreat was so hasty that few had had a chance to utilize this stockpile. The escalade that was mobilized by the Lamanites must have been a terrible sight to behold. How many ladders would have been required to scale these cliffs? Thousands, I thought. How many more had been thrown down and were now lying broken at the base of the cliff? It was as if the warriors of Fireborn, Eagle-Sky-Jaguar, Sa’abkhan, and other tribes had been carried to the cliff’s summit by a magical updraft.
Ammara wiped tears, fully cognizant of the fate that awaited those who occupied the settlement. I wanted to tear my eyes away, but the sight held me entranced. Nephite defensive lines appeared to have collapsed along the whole length of the escarpment. Additionally, the enemy had penetrated the first defensive wall. Nevertheless, it was the breach of that southeastern corridor that threatened the heart of Zenephi and its most vulnerable citizens: cripples, infants, toddlers, and the elderly. Cumorah’s bowl was transforming into a slaughterhouse. Drums resounded, and whistles screamed from the Lamanite ranks, stifling every other sound except a low chorus of screams and battle cries.
Not a breath of wind stirred. Smoke from the outer ditch seemed to putrefy in the atmosphere like one of the countless corpses rotting on the southeastern slope that descended into Cumorah’s bowl. Directly south, the Sacred Deer River was obscured by a powdery, gray gloom. I sensed that this massive ash cloud was slowly drifting toward us. Shortly, it would cover the bowl. In time, it would seep into every gap and furrow of Hill Cumorah, overshadowing every peak and ridge. There was something hopeful about that. Something merciful, at least to my disconsolate mind. The hand of God was preparing to enfold the nation of the Nephites in a funeral shroud.
“Do we follow them?” Jacobah asked young Lehi, pointing up the slope to where many of the old, young, and infirm who’d occupied the plateau were ascending, one feeble step at a time.
Lehi shook his head and pointed eastward toward a bushy slope that seemed considerably more inviting, not as steep as the route taken by the denizens of the plateau. Its only obstacle was its gnarled thickets and undergrowth. The cascading brook emanated from somewhere in that direction.
Jacobah protested in earnest, indicating the hillocks beyond the brook. These rolling knolls comprised the eastern extremities of Cumorah. “If the warriors of my people are inside the perimeter, they will quickly occupy those slopes. They’ll cut off anyone trying to escape over the hill. If we go that direction, our company will intersect with such warriors. We will confront them before anyone else.”
Lehi said solemnly. “That is the way my father told me to lead you. That is the way to the slot.” He swallowed uneasily but bravely held Jacobah’s gaze. I don’t think he wanted to go that direction any more than Jacobah, but he would not disobey his father.
“What is this slot?” asked Harry. “Why’s it so important?”
Lehi struggled to explain. “It’s . . . It’s—”
His sister helped him. “It’s secure. We will be safe.”
Lehi glanced at his sister dubiously. I doubted if “safe” or “secure” were adjectives he’d have chosen. He added merely, “It’s hidden.”
“A cave?” asked Harry.
“No,” said Lehi. Then less resolutely, “I mean . . . no. At least, not the way we’ll go.”
I indicated the other fleeing Nephites and asked tactfully, trying to understand, “Then, why are none of the others taking this path?”
Again Lehi fumbled for words.
Again Tashlín saved him. “They are afraid. But we should not be afraid. All will be well.”
“Afraid of what?” asked Harry.
All Lehi managed was, “It-it is difficult to—”
He was spared further explanation as the squawk of a bird reverberated overhead. A falcon flapped toward us, gliding out of the morning sun.
“Rafa!” Harry exclaimed.
He’d told me Rafa had disappeared shortly after his escape from the headquarters of the Lamanite king, Sa’abkhan. The bird had simply flown away, as he often did, either to hunt up a meal or reconnoiter the terrain or whatever it was a peregrine falcon did.
“Where have you been, my friend?” Harry inquired as the great bird with chocolate and white feathers flapped wildly and came to rest on his arm.
The bird made a squawk. I have been where I have been.
Harry made a wry smile. “I should know better. Walked right into that.”
The bird tilted his head several times as he studied Harry, seeming to wonder about the purple bruise that spread out weblike from Harry’s nose.
Another pair of squawks. What else did you walk into?
“Looks bad, eh? It’s nothing. Same bruise I got yesterday. Or was it the day before yesterday?”
More pretty.
“I wouldn’t know,” said Harry. “I haven’t seen a mirror.”
Even I smiled at that, grateful that any creature of God could lighten our dismal, deathly mood.
Ammara appeared astonished. “I am convinced I understand what it said. ‘More pretty.’ Am I imagining this?”
“No, Mother,” said Lehi. “This is Rafa, a very special bird.”
“But how is it possible that—?”
“We must choose a direction,” Jacobah interrupted Ammara. “We must keep moving!”
“Wait, wait, wait,” said Harry, trying to mollify his bodyguard. He explained to Rafa, “We need to reach the top of that summit. We’ll meet Steffanie, Apollus, and the others there. But we must avoid the Lamanite warriors. That is, the men with black and red feathers and faces painted in black tattoos.”
The bird erupted with an array of caws and screeches. I know those who are your enemies. Why are you still here, Harry Hawkins? Your predators surround you. They will pierce you. They will claw you out of the air. What makes you believe I am able to help you hide? You should have flown away!
The falcon’s wings flapped, feathers flared, in a show of exasperation.
Harry tried to calm him down. “But we did not fly away, Rafa. We could not. Look at Jesse. His wing is broken. He cannot fly at all. So you must help us. Try to hide us, Rafa. Young Lehi wants us to follow the waters of this spring. Jacobah thinks we might be safer if we follow those trails—”
Nowhere is safe! It does not matter! The predators surround you! The predators surround you!
The bird’s fit of vexation wasn’t helping.
Jacobah made a decision. “We’ll go the boy’s way! Ask your bird of prey if he will at least watch over us. Warn us if—when—the enemy is close.”
Rafa understood the question. I can fly to you with warnings. I cannot hide you.
“Warnings will have to do,” said Harry.
“Ask him to find the others,” I added hastily. “Find Meagan and Apollus. Locate Becky, Steffanie, Gid, and the rest.”
“Yes,” said Harry. “You must bring us reports, Rafa. Steffanie, Gid—their group is down there.” He pointed toward the cliff currently overrun by Lamanites. “Garth and Meagan’s group is somewhere over there.” He held up a pair of fingers, desperate that just once Rafa would acknowledge the concept of numbers. “Two groups. Five people down there. Four over there. Unless they’ve been forced to split up. Please, Rafa. Find out what’s happening with them.”
“And tell them about us,” I added.
The falcon’s black eyes flicked about as if contemplating all angles, considering all obstacles. He finally responded. I will find them all if I can. I will fly to them all with warnings. I will fly now!
It was truly an exclamation as the bird spread his wings and leaped from Harry’s arm in perfect timing with that last squawk. He glided downward, toward the southeast escarpments. Even Rafa deduced the greater potential urgency of Steffanie and Gid’s situation over that of Garth and Becky.
Harry looked at Lehi. “Your way it is. Let’s go.”
With Lehi leading the way, and Harrison practically carrying Jesse, we followed the tiny brook, drawing ever nearer to that mystifying phenomenon Moroni had called “the slot.”
Chapter 9
Apollus
We could now see only a portion of the settlement inside the bowl and a small segment of the fortification walls and ditches. The battle continued to rage as Lamanite infantry sought to penetrate the point where Mormon’s ramparts intersected with the natural promontory of the western ridge. The Nephites appeared to have the upper hand on this front. The commander had known the Lamanites would try to make a breach here and had garrisoned it with his elite knights of the Jaguar Division. I could not help but wonder if Mormon himself was among those troops, one of many thousands of flea-sized specks I could perceive from afar.
I should be down there, I told myself. It was difficult to suppress these thoughts. The impulse gnawed inside me whenever I knew men I respected were under siege, legionnaires outnumbered by a bloodthirsty opponent. Instead of entering the fray, I was guiding Meagan by the arm. Her uncle Garth and her niece, Rebecca, trudged up the slope beside us, panting and sweating more heavily as the heat of the day magnified.
All along these rugged western slopes of Cumorah, Nephite infantry were stationed along the highest elevations of its sinuous ridges. The line was thin but tightly serried like an unbroken fence. Obsidian swords, copper plates, and bright feathers reflected the rising sun like the flame of the burning moat without its accompanying cloud of noxious smoke.
Traps had been rigged and double-rigged at locations along the western spine of the hill—machinations that, with the slicing of one or two cords, would set off an avalanche of logs or boulders or deadly ballista. It all seemed quite ingenious. Any tribune of the Empire would have smiled in admiration.
As we climbed, I often glimpsed Lamanite forces ensconced in vales and plain lands many miles westward. The presence of soldiers caused these plains to roil like an unsettled sea. The Lamanite army was an ocean whose distant shore faded into the haze. Enemy drums reverberated like thunder. I could almost see the weapons of the Lamanite ranks shaking defiantly at the phalanxes of Nephites who stood beside their deadly spring-traps, tempting and taunting the Nephites to cut the cords and prematurely set off their avalanches.
Mormon’s machinations would certainly deter the battalions of Fireborn and his mercenary dogs—the people of the Water-Lilies and the Earth-Stone and the Cloud-Forest—but would these foes of the Nephites be utterly destroyed? So many adversaries. The boiling magma in that defiant ocean looked as if it went on forever.
“You want to go to them, don’t you?” said Meagan.
I gaped at the bandaged face of the woman I loved. She could hear the drums and the cacophony of fighting to the southeast, but she could not see the western ridge. She could not see the sea of Lamanites on the plains. Once again I was struck by the notion that she perceived more than I could ever perceive.
“No,” I replied. “But I suspect Mormon is down there. And I suspect his son, Moroni, is with his men of the Eagle Legion, assigned to that nearer ridge to the west.”
Meagan became thoughtful, hesitant. I paused as well, aware enough of Meagan’s gifts and how they worked that I knew it was time to listen, not speak.
“You must go to him,” Meagan declared.
The air was still, yet I was tempted to think a gust of wind had caused me to mishear her. The eyebrows of Garth and Rebecca rose.
I made a scoffing sound at my fiancée. “What are you talking about? I cannot leave you. Who else here can wield a weapon?” It was not braggadocio. It was fact. I doubted Garth had even brandished one of those modern weapons that fired flaming ballista—guns.
“They need you,” Meagan persisted. “He needs you.”
“Moroni? The son of Mormon needs me? Ridiculous. The Eagle Commander is surrounded by the finest bodyguards of any Nephite legion, apart from his father’s Jaguars.”
“I think she’s right.”
