Thorns of Glory, page 24
Our heads turned. The voice that had spoken was young Rebecca’s. She peered at both her hands, cupped them as if she held something in front of her. I half expected to see the seer stone she’d brought from the ruins of Desolation, but her hands were empty.
Her father inquired, “What are you saying, Becky? I thought you gave that back to Mormon.” Garth stood behind Rebecca. From his angle, he could not see that she cupped only air.
Rebecca stared at her vacant palms so intently that I double-checked to verify their emptiness. All at once, she dropped her hands, feeling vaguely sheepish.
She faced her father. “I did give it back. I . . . For a second, I forgot and checked my pocket. I-I could swear that . . . I felt its weight, Dad.” She drew a confident breath. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t need the stone. I still think Meagan is right. Apollus should go to the ridge. He should find Moroni.”
Befuddled, Garth could only ask, “Why?”
For a moment, her gaze became distant. Then she focused squarely on her father. “Because if he doesn’t . . . Moroni will—might—die.”
Her sudden grammatical change only made the situation more perplexing. I repeated sourly, “Die? Do you mean to say God has given you an inner sign? A revelation suggesting I must save Moroni’s life?”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t have the right to get a revelation like that. Not for you, anyway. I can’t tell you to do anything.”
“If not a revelation, how would you define it?” I challenged.
“A hunch,” said Meagan. “A prompting. But she’s right. None of us has the authority to give you direction.”
Garth broke in. “Prompting, revelation—they’re the same thing! If none of us has the authority—”
Becky grasped her father’s hand. The message in her face was clear. Listen. Feel.
We went still. It felt as if the air congealed in our lungs. To onlookers it might have appeared that we’d slipped into a trance.
My confusion would not abate. “This . . . is an unexpected conversation. I need better cause—better reason—than a mere hunch if I am to abandon everyone in this . . . in this . . .”
My thoughts blanked. I couldn’t recall the words I was about to utter. Even what I’d just said seemed like a faraway memory. I wish I could better verbalize it, what happened in my mind. Mid-sentence my thoughts drew in like a turtle’s head. The stupor was more remarkable than anything I’d previously experienced. Nevertheless, I fought it. I tried to wave it off like a swarm of gadflies.
“I don’t understand!” I ranted. “If Moroni is a prophet, why can’t God save him? Why does Mormon’s son need me?”
Garth spoke. “God can encircle us with walls of fire if He wants to, but most of the time He makes us His tools. Either way, Becky and Meagan are right. Doctrinally, I mean. None of us have keys to tell you what to do. Only you possess those keys. If you don’t feel the same prompting as Becky and Meagan, well . . . it means someone is deceived.”
I looked at the ground and tilted my shoulders right, then left. “Or it means I am unworthy to receive confirmation even of the slightest—”
“No,” Meagan interrupted. She seized my hand. Despite her bandages, I’d have sworn she was peering into my soul. “You are worthy.”
I wanted to spout further protests. Not a sound emerged.
Garth added, “You are our shepherd, Apollus. Our defender. God has given you to us. I truly believe that.” He turned to Meagan and Becky. “Who are we to squander God’s gifts?”
“Unless Apollus feels it too,” said Becky.
Garth nodded. “Okay, I’ll play along. Unless he feels it too—”
“I have to go,” I said before Garth finished, as if I’d not heard another word of this discussion.
Megan squeezed my hand. “We’ll be all right, Apollus. Be God’s tool.”
“I’ll return to you,” I told Meagan, “at the summit.”
“I know it,” said Meagan. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
* * *
Steffanie
“Do you see him?!” I shouted at Kerra for the tenth time.
“No!” she shouted back, clutching at Kidd’s shoulders, terrified she’d lose her son in the tumult the same way we’d lost track of Brock.
The press of the crowd was relentless. A full-blown hysteria had gripped the settlement of Zenephi. Goons of the Scorpion Division, under orders from Gid’s second-in-command, Ukiah, had forced us back to the base of the ridge, back amidst the shelters and tents. Ukiah had drafted Brock as a standard-bearer. Brock! Kerra’s brother knew as much about soldiering as Becky did. What had Ukiah been thinking? The Nephite boy who’d carried the Scorpion standard prior to Brock was wounded by a high-arching arrow. I presumed he was now being treated at one of the medical stations that were popping up like dandelions. Most standard-bearers among the Nephite troops were Brock’s age and younger. Ukiah just needed a living, breathing body—didn’t matter who. Hadn’t Gid’s first officer visited our camp? Wouldn’t he have recognized Brock? Didn’t he know the boy was connected to Gidgiddonihah? Didn’t he realize recruiting Brock was like passing a death sentence upon him?
No one cared. Could I blame them? So many men were already dying. Maybe I was the selfish one, thinking Brock deserved special consideration. Ukiah might have easily pressed that pole into Kidd’s hands. Kidd knew a lot more about warfare than Brock. Logic at a time like this didn’t matter. Justice was a myth. Anarchy reigned.
The moment Ukiah’s goons departed, SaKerra, Kidd, and I defied Gid’s second-in-command and started hiking back up the slope.
I heard a piercing squawk. As I looked up into the sky, I saw a lone bird floating above the commotion. Rafa!
What was the falcon doing? I thought back on its call. Was there a message? I think there was. I see you. I guess that’s not especially profound. Then again, it comforted me somehow. Rafa wanted us to know that he knew our situation, our ten-twenty. The bird couldn’t land. Not in this madness. He flew over us a second time and then flapped his wings and headed west, growing smaller in the sky. The falcon was leaving us. There was no time to ruminate on what that meant. In a flash, all pandemonium erupted.
A veritable stampede of soldiers and civilians overwhelmed us—nearly carried us—deeper into the precincts of the settlement. It was almost like riding upon outstretched arms in a mosh pit. We fought like the dickens to maintain our footing. If we had tripped, our bodies and faces would have been pummeled into mush.
The flight of soldiers and citizens stretched in every direction. The high-pitched cries of mothers and babes in the camp were muffled by the human stampede. Walls of flimsy stone and wooden shelters were knocked aside and broken. Thatched roofs and canvases quickly shredded. People were being trampled—women, children, and the elderly. I dodged running bodies, even deflected a rampaging Nephite with the butt of my sword. I reached a girl—six or seven—curled up on the ground, both arms protecting her face. I pulled her to her feet before countless legs could stomp her flat. As she found her balance, she started running again. Didn’t even acknowledge me with a glance. No matter. Pausing to help was irrational. I couldn’t save them all. We had to flee this place like everyone else.
I rejoined Kerra and Kidd, who’d taken shelter behind a half-standing wall. Every instinct, every particle of wit and wisdom inside me raged that we should follow the stampede—join with the mass of Nephites fleeing west and north. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I knew SaKerra wouldn’t either.
As if to emphasize this point, she declared, “I’m going back. I’m going to find Brock and Gid.”
“I’m staying with you,” I said sharply.
She lost her temper. “Take my son to Ammon’s Summit!”
I exploded right back. “Take him yourself! I’ll find Brock and Gid. Otherwise we stick together.”
SaKerra peeked over the crumbled wall. She reluctantly conceded. “Okay. We’ll stick together.”
The density of the human stampede had eased a bit. Its composition had changed. More soldiers than civilians.
“Cowards!” people brayed at the fleeing soldiers. “Return and fight. Save us!”
“Save yourselves!” a warrior responded.
“They’re coming!” a Scorpion soldier warned us.
“Reds have scaled the cliffs!” another yelled. “They’re here! In the city! Run while you can!”
Run where? Where would anyone be safe? Some who encouraged us to run were the crippled and sick—people who couldn’t run.
SaKerra muttered in bewilderment, “How could they scale the cliffs? The ladders were being thrown down faster than Lamanite soldiers could raise them. Our men were crushing them at the bottom with stones!”
“Yet the ladders kept rising,” I said.
“We burned so many,” she marveled. “What good did it do?”
I clutched her mantle. “Kerra . . . you read the Book. You know how
this ends.”
She peered back in stupefaction, then squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head as if to rouse herself from a nightmare. I gripped her shoulder more tightly. Her alarm was understandable. I’d managed to fool myself too, sometimes multiple times per day. It didn’t matter how the sacred volume ended, how many times I’d read it. Fleeting glimpses of hope persistently sparked and died. So many people. So many preparations. All those man-hours cutting trees, moving earth, digging moats. For what? What difference had any of it made? It was a lesson for the ages. There was no substitute for kneeling before God. No amount of work, skill, or luck could change the fate of the damned.
I searched the hillside that led toward the southeast cliffs. Oily smoke from the moats minimized our visibility to twenty-five yards or less. Everything—the land, tents, people—were coated by a black lacquer of slime and soot. Scraping my fingers along my arm left greasy contrails.
“Don’t touch your eyes,” I declared, fearing the residue might seal them shut.
Despite the torrent of soldiers, the din of warfare and the peal of drums and whistles continued to resonate from multiple directions. Some lines of Nephite soldiers continued to hold, refusing to yield the city.
“Are we fools, Steffanie?” asked SaKerra. “What if they’re dead? What if you, me, and Kidd are all that’s left? Should we climb to the summit?”
It was the boy who spoke, eyes narrow, jaw rigid. “No. They’re not dead.”
An utterance from Kidd was always a surprise, but this one seemed especially notable. Kerra turned back to me. It wasn’t necessary to offer my opinion. My face said it all. If I had spoken, I’d have said, “You heard the Kidd.”
Kerra clenched her own jaw and fiercely gripped Kidd’s hand.
That’s when we heard a furious change in character in the voices. It was different from other shouts or cries. And closer. Much closer. Amidst the smoke I perceived the first silhouettes of soldiers with topknots.
I saw a woman cut down, an old woman who couldn’t possibly have defended herself. A few Nephites stepped into the fray, attempting to hold back the tidal wave, but there was no longer any doubt: Lamanite warriors had penetrated the settlement.
The annihilation of Zenephi had begun.
* * *
Harry
It had been nearly an hour since we’d departed the plateau overlooking the settlement. The pathway Lehi followed had eroded until it had become no pathway at all. Just a canyon cut by the tiny stream that had more or less paralleled our course from the outset. The rocks were slick with moss and treacherous to the step, especially for Jesse. I’d been forced to return the orphan to Jacobah’s care, as my back felt ready to crack in half. I couldn’t have said whether Jacobah had a whole lot more strength than I did, but he didn’t hesitate to take over. Mary had also volunteered to take a turn supporting Jesse just as soon as Jacobah and I couldn’t take any more. This pricked our egos and caused us to dig a little deeper.
How long could we keep this up? Even after handing Jesse to Jacobah my lower back kept aching. We’d soon have to take some sort of break. The water in the brook had turned freezing cold. The narrowness of the canyon made it impossible to keep our feet dry. In addition to a throbbing spine, I could hardly feel my toes. The space was just wide enough for our company to take a breather without sitting in the stream. Pausing here, leaning against the canyon walls, was certain to drain more energy than if we kept moving.
Lehi’s forward progress was waning. Initially, I blamed this on the chill of the water, but his eyes perpetually darted to and fro, as if wary of invisible dangers. We’d surely entered the region Moroni and Lehi had dubbed “the slot.” Not sure what all the hubbub was about. The canyon seemed well hidden. I supposed if an enemy spotted us from above, we might have been picked off like fish in a barrel, but the way brush and vines sprawled over the upper edge on either side, our discovery seemed unlikely. It appeared to be a very clever route of escape. I didn’t get why Lehi was so hesitant or why other Nephites had rejected the path.
Mary asked Lehi for clarification. “Is this the slot?”
Lehi shook his head. “But we’re close.”
Okay. This wasn’t it. I wasn’t sure how it might have fit that description more accurately. How could any other route be more claustrophobic? Or disagreeable?
“You’ll tell us when we get there?” I asked.
“You’ll know,” said Lehi.
I waited for him to say more. He added nothing, making his reply more ominous. How could the way get any creepier than this? I sighed and let it roll off my back. I’d encountered a myriad of mind-blowing phenomena in my time-travel experiences, each stranger than the last. I’d been sucked into a whirling pillar of energy, spewed out of a geyser, forced to contend with a water dragon—that is, a mosasaur. I’d experienced the most furious storms imaginable that utterly destroyed the city of Jacobugath. What could surpass the intensity of stuff like that? Certainly not some slot canyon of the Hill Cumorah, despite its ice-cold water.
After another hundred steps it was Jesse who said insistently, “Rest. I must rest.”
A pair of well-placed boulders had appeared along either side of the canyon, the stream tumbling in between. We wouldn’t get our feet out of the numbing current, but the boulders offered up the best angle that we’d seen in a while to rest our hind ends. Based on the relief I saw in Jacobah’s expression, I’d have guessed that if Jesse hadn’t insisted on the rest, he might’ve done so himself.
We positioned ourselves around the boulders and trembled in exhaustion. I envied Jacobah, who’d found a knot in the stone that permitted him to lift one foot at a time out of the drink, massaging them for heat. Jesse might have taken that seat, but he didn’t have the strength to lift either limb.
What about offering the spot to one of the women? Tashlín and Mary were shivering terribly. Ammara worked out a system to everyone’s benefit. She raised her daughter’s foot, removed the sandal, and worked blood back into its veins. Mary took her cue and did the same for Jesse. I leaned back and waited. As soon as Mary was done with Jesse, I’d do the same for her.
I was distracted as I realized I could see my own breath. It was as if at some point we’d abandoned the tropics and entered the wintery frontiers of the Arctic. It wasn’t just the water. The air itself was chilly. At some point along this pathway, the mercury had plummeted.
“Why is it so c-cold?” asked Mary.
She wasn’t asking me. While I was distracted, Jacobah had laid claim to my intended gallantry. I moved in.
“My girl,” I said, trying not to sound peevish. “I’ll do that.”
As I took hold of Mary’s foot, Jacobah went to help Ammara. I caught an odd look in Mary’s eye. Had I offended her?
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. She retracted her foot and placed it back in the water. “Do Jesse again.”
I nodded. Reasonable enough.
As I rubbed additional warmth into Jesse’s feet, he said, “Thanks. I’d do yours, but . . .”
I shook my head. No need to explain.
Lehi had taken it upon himself to warm his mom’s feet. His sister rubbed his. As it turned out, I was the only one whose feet received no relief. Oh well. I doubted it would have made much difference.
A moment later, Tashlín looked to her brother for further instructions. Apparently the daughter of Moroni hadn’t actually been here before. She’d just heard stories.
Lehi pointed upstream. “The ‘slot’ . . . begins around that bend.”
“You didn’t answer Mary’s question,” I said. “What makes this place so cold?”
Lehi faced forward with a thousand-mile stare. “It will get colder.”
I pulled in my chin. This was getting weird. “Why?”
The boy shrugged. “It just will.”
“There must be an explanation,” said Jacobah.
“You should have warned us,” I said. “We might have at least brought extra clothing. Blankets to wrap around the women.”
“Wouldn’t matter,” said Lehi. “It’s a different kind of cold.”
Ooo-kay. The Twilight Zone theme pinged in my brain. “A different kind? That doesn’t make sense.”
Lehi returned my stare, eyes pleading. “Don’t trust your thoughts. Please. You’ll hear many whispers. Some will be the truth. Some will be lies. All are meant to deceive. Pray. Rely on God. I’ve been told men have killed each other. I haven’t seen it. But my father saw it.”
“Whispers?” asked Mary. “Whose whispers?”
Lehi shrugged again. “I don’t know.”
Tashlín added, “This hill is still called Ramah by some local villages. Another war was fought on these slopes. Many thousands died.”
“Sure,” I said. “The Jaredites. We know all about it.”
“Some of them . . . remain,” said Tashlín. “The ones who were the most corrupt. I don’t pretend to understand. My father, possibly, could explain more.”
