Thorns of Glory, page 8
“Marcos Alberto Sanchez. Husband of Melody Hawkins, brother-in-law to Steffanie and Harry. How is it—? How did you come to know Steffanie Hawkins?”
He grinned as brightly as the stone in his fist. “I was right. Father God is guiding my steps.” He became stern, almost imperious. “You must take me to them. Right away. Take me to Steffanie.”
I raised my hand to try to temper his earnestness. “I’ve been pursuing that very objective all night. That is, I’ve been trying to reach the settlement of Zenephi. I have . . . precious cargo to deliver.” I touched the covered plates. “If they’re here—if she’s here—that’s where she’s likely encamped, on the opposite side of this hill.”
“‘Likely’? Why are you not certain?”
Gracious. I did not respond well to arrogance or authority. Royalty was worse. “Because it’s war, Your Future Majesty. Who can be certain of anything?”
Pagag sheathed his sword and slipped the glowing stone back into his cloak. “Then, we mustn’t delay.” He held out his hand to be hoisted atop the mammoth.
Omrah muttered behind me. “I don’t understand any of this.”
I introduced him again. “This is Omrah, a Nephite physician.”
He corrected me. “Zoramite physician.”
Omrah helped Pagag aboard.
He waved his arm like a wagon master. “On to Zenephi!”
Notes to Chapter 2:
The geographical setting for the Hill Cumorah and other locations in this novel are speculative. For details of the research that is the foundation for the general region, the reader is directed to the Notes for Chapter 7 of Tennis Shoes Adventure Series Book 12: Drums of Desolation.
As additional research has emerged over the long arc of writing this series, I have revised my opinion of Book of Mormon geography, such as rejecting a popular suggestion that dates back to the 1970s that proposes the Hill Cumorah as El Cerro Vigia in Veracruz, Mexico. A lengthy discourse on this can be found in the notes for Chapter 15 of Tennis Shoes Adventure Series Book 11: Sorcerers and Seers.
Over the quarter century that the Tennis Shoes Series has been written, I’ve sometimes felt inclined to alter perspectives. This seems an appropriate way to approach Book of Mormon studies. Unfortunately, it means certain premises from my earlier novels in the series may now be inaccurate. This might not lessen a story’s entertainment value, but the rationale behind certain premises may (I emphasize may) have become obsolete. Why admit such flaws now, as I approach the completion of the series? I suppose because, in the end, I’d rather be perceived as honest and open-minded rather than closed-minded and rigid, especially on a subject whereupon The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has officially expressed neutrality.
Substantial effort has been made over the decades (almost two centuries!) to pinpoint geographic locations in the Book of Mormon. Since this volume of scripture was first published in 1830, opinions about the setting of cities and events have morphed and altered. Tenets have fallen in and out of favor. During the Church’s first hundred years following its Restoration, most Latter-day Saints were satisfied with the idea that Book of Mormon events encompassed both hemispheres. Around the middle of the twentieth century, scholars began examining the text more carefully and deduced a more limited environment—a smaller geographic area. Verses have been compared that mention directions, the flow of rivers, relationships between cities and other landmarks, as well as other information coupled with advancements in the scientific method. An intriguing Book of Mormon geography in Mesoamerica started to congeal that appeared eminently plausible. Many Latter-day Saints became excited, and on occasion—sometimes unfortunately (but not always)—this information became part of our proselytizing efforts around the world. This isn’t all bad news. Heavenly Father imparts His miracles in whatever manner best suits an individual investigator. Many who were first intrigued by the Church in general or the Book of Mormon in particular as a result of archaeology and geography remain active, faithful Latter-day Saints. However, if a convert’s conviction relies primarily upon geography, it may indicate a lack of spiritual development. This seed of spiritual conversion by itself seems destined to fall on stony ground (see the parable of the sower in Matthew 13, Mark 4, and Luke 8). Such fields of study remain imperfect, incomplete, and unsanctioned by Church doctrine. One day that may change, but it seems to me the journey is the thing. The search. The investigation.
My personal journey to discover all I can know about the Book of Mormon consistently reconfirms the complexity of the book. Researcher’s efforts to nail down a plausible geography have reconfirmed that complexity and thus increased my intellectual conviction of the volume’s authenticity.
However, my spiritual conviction has always taken precedence over my intellectual conviction. As it says in Doctrine and Covenants 88:118,
And as all have not faith, seek ye diligently and teach one another words of wisdom; yea, seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom; seek learning, even by study and also by faith.
For me this scripture has always meant that it’s okay for members and investigators to feed both needs—faith and knowledge. Faith is ultimately the most reliable support, but we ought to concede that knowledge plays an important role (out of the best books, which today includes all the best media—movies, documentaries, internet, etc.). We must seek learning by study and faith. Challenges may materialize when a member or investigator is prevented from utilizing both platforms. Some will ignore such advice. Those with wings will fly. The preference is to fly in the right direction and avoid getting caught in webs, nets, snares, wind turbines, and claws of predators.
To clarify this analogy, I believe it’s a mistake to discourage Book of Mormon geography or any other apologetic or scholarly pursuit. To do so is a fundamental contradiction of the gospel and our nature as human beings. We’re curious creatures. I believe we inherited that curiosity from our Father in Heaven. The objective is balance—not becoming obsessed over one area of study at the expense of another. Our natural interest in Book of Mormon geography should not be abandoned. If the Book of Mormon truly happened, it took place somewhere. To ignore this is counterintuitive to any sincere investigation of truth as well as to common sense.
Over the past century, significant evidences have been discovered. Fascinating correlations and corroborations. Some might be inclined to ask, “Like what?” It’s difficult to know where to start with such an uninformed question. Before embarking with baby steps, one must be taught to crawl. To read! Books. If copyrighted, the full text of most are readily available on the internet. Until our questions are answered by revelation, we have only the scientific method, which demands disciplined procedures of observation, research, hypothesis, prediction, and experimentation. Such studies always welcome peer review and thorough vetting. Still, it’s easy to be misled, and enthusiasts should be wary.
In this novel, I have portrayed the Nephite commander Moronihah as the literal son of Moroni. This is based on the supposition that, if Moroni’s father, Mormon, named his own son after his personal hero from Nephite history (see Alma 48:11–17), it’s plausible that Moroni would continue this tradition by naming his son Moronihah, as did Captain Moroni (see Alma 62:43). This is purely speculation. Nevertheless, a captain named Moronihah is indeed listed among the twenty-two fallen Nephite leaders in Mormon 6:14.
In this chapter, I suggested these ancient peoples may have used rubber associated with catapults. This is also supposition but is based upon recent findings by researchers at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) who proposed that ancient Mayans and Aztecs may have been more sophisticated in utilizing this milky sap than previously thought.
The catapult is an ancient weapon often associated with the siege engines of Rome. It hurled stones and other ordnance by a system of ropes and counterweights. There is no current evidence that the peoples of ancient America developed a similar weapon, but considering the wide availability of latex from rubber trees, it seems plausible that some military applications were deployed.
Elastic rubber, as we know it today, was developed in the middle of the nineteenth century by Charles Goodyear in a process called vulcanization, which cooks liquid latex with sulfur. By contrast, the Aztecs stabilized the elasticity of latex by heating the sap with the juice of the morning glory plants. Researchers at MIT recreated the legendary balls from the Mesoamerican ball court game using this method. Spanish chroniclers also mentioned that Native American tribes used latex for walking shoes, although no samples have survived. There is much evidence that ancient technologies prior to the Spanish conquest have been lost to history. Considering the obvious superiority of cannons and gunpowder, the disappearance of a technology associated with catapults or a kind of weaponry that utilized rubber seems reasonable.
MIT researcher Michael Tarkanian stated,
“Despite their common depiction as primitive, violent people, the Aztec had a spirit of scientific inquiry, as shown by their experiments in metallurgy and other industries. . . . Their science, engineering, and development skills would have led them to try different combinations” of substances when making rubber. (Rachel Kaufman, “Aztec, Maya Were Rubber-Making Masters?”, National Geographic, http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2010/06/100628-science-ancient-maya-aztec-rubber-balls-beheaded/; emphasis added.)
With this in mind, the notion that Teotihuacános or other ancient American peoples may have utilized this substance for military purposes seems no great stretch.
Chapter 3
Meagan
I saw it so clearly. Our escape. The entrance into the rift. It was not behind us in the bowels of some cave. It was directly ahead, straight into the jaws of a creature that Apollus had described as a dragon, a dinosaur, a creature with a narrow snout and needlelike teeth that could disembowel us in a single snap but with a gullet the size of a Seven Peaks waterslide.
“Are you ready?” I asked Apollus.
He didn’t reply. I think he was nonplussed. Finally: “This is insane.”
“Yes!” My voice had an edge of comedy. I wanted to laugh because it was insane. It was preposterous to think we could leap down the throat of a pterodactyl, or whatever it was. It was also the right decision. The truth of it burned in my chest like a supernova.
The animal continued screeching and squawking and breaking away chunks of shale, trying to snatch us out of our hole.
“We can’t even rise to our feet,” Apollus protested. “We can’t get a running start!”
“Then, we get a crawling start! Rise up and dive at the last possible second. It’s the only way, Apollus. I promise you. I love you, and I promise you!”
He emitted a nervous gasp, then expressed a final concern. “We can’t go together!”
“Yes, we can! Like a train! I’ll lead. You’ll be my caboose. Stay tight behind me. As tight as possible!”
He blew all the air from his lungs, working up the final nerve. “Fine! I’m getting in position!”
I scooted forward as he tucked himself into a ball. Teeth snapped very close to my nose. The dragon fought to bite my head or just a lock of hair—anything that would let it draw me out of hiding. Apollus depended on me now. The timing was all up to me. Gratefully, I’d never been so certain about anything related to rifts or portals in time.
“Go! Go! Go!” I screeched.
My fingernails scraped at the rocks until my foot found a purchase. I launched forward, praying Apollus was behind me. If my timing was off by even a second, I’d be dead—bitten in half. My sudden lunge must have surprised the beast. Maybe it was pleased that I was coming to it instead of the alternative. I sensed it had backed up slightly, opening its mouth as wide as its muscles would permit. I squeezed my hands into fists and thrust them forward, like diving headlong into a waterfall.
I felt an impact on my forehead and knuckles, moist and springy, precisely how I might’ve imagined how the flesh inside the monster’s mouth would feel. I was impacted from behind by Apollus, driving me deeper into its throat.
Then . . . it all changed.
* * *
Steffanie
“Wait!” I cried.
But the forward motion of Jacobah’s arm was unstoppable. He hurled his spear into the heart of whatever was emerging from the vortex. I’d seen something else in that vortex—a silhouette within the beast. A pair of silhouettes that appeared . . . human. The creature was scintillating in a bizarre orange glow, its shape hideously deformed. I mean, the beast itself wasn’t hideous. A thing of dread—like some flying dinosaur. It did not emerge intact. I distinguished feathery reptilian wings and a spiked head. Beyond that was a bloody assortment of tissue and organs—now perforated by Jacobah’s spear. The spearpoint had pierced the center of the carcass, nearly skewering the two living persons in the chaos of tissue.
They were bespattered in blood and filth, but they were alive, struggling to stand. One wore a head bandage and—Oh my! It was Meagan! Meagan and Apollus!
Others had recognized them too. Harry, Mary, and Rebecca waded through the mess, ignoring the gore, determined to embrace our loved ones who’d been missing for hours. Meagan and Apollus were surprisingly unsullied, considering the mess. On either side of them, propped somewhat sideways, stretched what appeared to be the upper and lower jaws of some mysterious animal, complete with tidy rows of razor-sharp teeth. Had this feathered creature been trying to swallow them whole? It was as if . . . as if a time portal had materialized inside the predator’s mouth. How had the thing died? Much of its carcass looked literally inside out. So why not Meagan and Apollus? How had they survived?
Becky wrapped herself tightly around Meagan’s waist. “What happened?
“Thank our Lord you’re all right,” said Mary.
Harry was about to embrace Apollus. He froze, seeing something purple slopped over the Roman’s shoulder.
Apollus flicked it away. “Sorry. Part of its tongue, I think.”
Harry embraced his friend. “Where have you been?”
“They tried to kill us,” said Apollus. “The Gadianton Ghosts. They failed. Meagan thwarted their effort.”
“What is that?” asked Brock, content to stand clear of the gore.
“A dinosaur,” said Meagan. “Pterodactyl or . . . I don’t know dinosaur names.”
“A quetzalcoatlus,” said Rebecca, shrugging, not sure if she’d pronounced it correctly.
“Did it . . . swallow you?” This was from SaKerra.
“No,” said Meagan. “Um . . . well, sort of.”
“What killed it?” I asked. “What tore it apart?”
Uncle Garth suggested an answer. “The vortex wasn’t large enough.”
Meagan thought about this and nodded. “The vortex hovered at the edge of a cliff, beyond the entrance of a tiny cave and, as it turned out, right in the center of the creature’s jaws. As we dove, we must have forced it through the portal with us.”
“But,” said Garth, “it didn’t fit.”
“You’ve slain a dragon!” Brock declared. “That is awe-credible!” His own unique adjective.
Mary, Harry, and Rebecca led Meagan and Apollus toward the campfire. Rags were found, doused in water, and applied to clean them off. Jacobah retrieved his spear from the gore and did his best to wipe away the blood. It wasn’t clear whether or not the weapon had played any role in killing the beast.
“What about the Gadianton Ghosts?” I asked. “How did they do this? What are they planning next?”
Apollus pondered the matter. Before he could answer, we realized we were surrounded by the citizens of Zenephi. Despite flaming arrows, burning tar, and war whoops from beyond the fortress defenses, Meagan and Apollus congealing out of the air with a dead dragon had garnered slightly more curiosity. All eyes were fixed, not on Meagan or Apollus but on the corpse of the feathered dragon. Its malformation only made it a more fantastical creature.
“What is this monstrosity?” someone demanded. I recognized the voice. It was Stoop, the older, plain-dressed attendant of Dootapoo, the prophetess—the same wretched woman who’d accosted Rebecca and me yesterday as we were fetching water. He added, “What kind of demon have you brought into Cumorah’s protected realm?”
“Not a demon,” said Meagan, sounding a bit lame. “A creature from our past. It’s a-a . . .” She looked to Becky for help.
“Quetzalcoatlus?” she replied tentatively.
“Yes, that,” said Meagan.
Their faces were blank.
The witch woman came forward, as if riding a gust of wind, still adorned in her rainbow-colored frock with tattered hems that revealed knobby, sore-smitten legs.
“It is as I’ve said all along,” she pronounced in her thirsty, high-pitched voice. “They are not of our tribe. They are outsiders—servants of Ahpuch and Kisin, the death gods! They have dispersed the whays that have protected our people faithfully for four long years. They are the cause of this!” Her bony arm swept toward Zenephi’s defenses, presently afire and under siege. She eyed the carcass. “They exercised their shadow powers to summon the demon, K’awiil from the underworld. They failed—this time. They will try again. They will bring more lizard-demons into our sanctuary to destroy this people from within! The next winged wraiths will devour our children—devour us all!—unless we act now to stop them. The blood of these outsiders must be spilt to appease Itzamna, our Eternal Creator.”
Everyone in our company who owned weapons hastily armed themselves. I swept up my bow and nocked an arrow. Apollus, Garth, Harry, and even Mary gripped swords or knives. Jacobah raised his spear, focusing with particular malevolence on the prophetess.
“Wreak your vengeance!” Dootapoo shrieked to the gathering. “Seize them all!”
