SECRETS IN ZARAHEMLA : CHAPTER ONE

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   Zarahemla, 62 BC

   Kiah hung upside down in the snare, the rope cutting and burning her ankle. She thought that this must be her punishment for wandering so far away from Zarahemla despite her father's warnings. She knew she was not supposed to cross the River Sidon while the Nephites and Lamanites were at war. Now her disobedience had her dangling from a high branch of an ancient heartwood tree. Kiah could only blink at the rich, red-brown bark in surprise as she bobbed up and down, too stunned to move.

   If nothing else, at least her shock had stopped her crying. The tears that had blinded her, allowing her to walk right into a hunter's trap, had finally dried up.

   Kiah felt as helpless now as she had earlier that day when she had tried to learn how to . . . Kiah shook her head and refused to think of it. She had to get down.

   Blood rushed to her head as Kiah observed the area around her. She had stumbled into a small clearing, encircled by jungle on three sides, that abutted a tributary pool of clear water that fed off the Sidon. Kiah looked up and saw that her short swords had fallen to the ground. Only one other way to cut herself down.

   Her pale yellow tunic, heavily encrusted with cornmeal, hung down toward her head. Kiah tucked the front half in between her calves and tried to reach behind her to grab the edge where she kept a light obsidian blade sewn into the hem. Kiah comforted herself with the thought that at least she could sew.

   You'll never get married. No man would want a woman like you.

   The words were so clear in her mind that Kiah thought for a moment that her sister-in-law, Shabana, had followed her in order to torment her further.

   Kiah closed her eyes and tried to get Shabana's abrasive cries out of her mind. No matter how hard Kiah tried, she couldn't cook. Today's attempt had been yet another disastrous endeavor that ended with Kiah causing the cornmeal to explode all over everything. It didn't matter to Shabana how well Kiah could throw a knife or shoot an arrow. As she constantly reminded Kiah, a woman's worth was measured not on a battlefield but in the home.

   She choked back a sob that threatened to break free from her throat. She was tougher than this. Having a husband, children . . . that was not important to her like it was to other women. Kiah repeated her usual mantra, but today she couldn't fool herself. Kiah knew the truth was that no one wanted to marry her, regardless of who her father was. No man wanted a woman that couldn't care for a home.

   Kiah pushed the thoughts away and reached again for the hem of her tunic. She stopped when she heard the sound of something coming through the undergrowth toward her. It was large and wasn't trying to disguise the sound of its approach. A predator.

   A red brocket deer broke clear of the jungle. Kiah heard the whoosh of a spear and saw the weapon pin the animal to the base of the heartwood tree.

   Before she had a chance to speculate at who had used the spear, a Lamanite stepped into the clearing. In a rush of thought, Kiah knew she was going to die. Her insides turned to silvery liquid, and her lungs pumped so rapidly that she couldn't catch her breath.

   "Interesting. I've never caught a girl before."

   She didn't know what to be more shocked about—that he spoke her language so flawlessly or that it sounded like he was teasing her, like he planned on playing with her before the kill. Kiah resolved he would soon find out that she wasn't so easy to defeat.

   Kiah reached behind her, trying to get at her blade. At the same time, she pushed the bottom of her tunic against her backside to cover herself.

   Although he faced her front, a look of embarrassment crossed the Lamanite's face, and he fumbled over an apology. He turned his back and went to the tree where the other end of the trap had been tied off.

   She expected him to cut the line and braced herself for the impact of hitting the ground. Instead, the Lamanite untied the rope and began to carefully lower her down.

   "I'm sorry you got caught in the trap. I didn't realize that anyone came out this far. It's fortunate I happened to be hunting in this area already. Otherwise you might have been stuck up there for a while."

   Kiah wondered if he was trying to lull her into complacency by talking to her. She ignored his words and used her palms to ease herself onto the ground. Then she grabbed at the rope to release it from her ankle while she watched the Lamanite. He kept his back to her.

   She inched toward her knives, waiting for him to turn and attack. She tasted warm, bitter bile in her mouth; her limbs shook. Kiah's heart pounded so hard in her chest that she was afraid it would punch through. It was one thing to practice on a field with her brother or father. It was quite another to be facing a real enemy who intended to harm her. The paralyzing fear almost overwhelmed her. Kiah tried to swallow it. She had to regain her control. For one fleeting moment, Kiah was sorely tempted to throw one of her knives into his back, but she refrained. It would be murder to kill an unarmed man.

   Holding the obsidian short swords tightly, she got into a defensive position, her knees slightly bent, her swords at the ready.

   The Lamanite finally turned to face Kiah. He stared at her, and Kiah noticed that his eyes were a startling, sky blue. Kiah had admittedly seen very few Lamanites in her life, but never had she seen one with blue eyes.

   One corner of his mouth pulled up in what looked like amusement. "What do you plan on doing with those?"

   His voice was rich and deep and tinged with laughter. Kiah did not find her current predicament amusing. Her grip on the knives tightened, and she held them up higher. At the expression on her face, the laughter faded from his eyes, and the Lamanite turned to wrench his spear free from the tree.

   "I have no wish to fight you," he said.

   "And I have no wish to find out what will happen to me if I don't fight," Kiah retorted, thrusting at him with her right hand. His spear came up, barely blocking her blow. He lightly pushed her to the side so that she had to come at him from behind. She again lunged toward him, turning in a half-circle to try and surprise him.

   But he wasn't caught off guard. His spear moved quickly from one side to the other, easily parrying each of Kiah's thrusts. She kicked at him, hoping to knock him back. He stepped aside as though he had already read her mind and knew what she would do. She resorted to coming at him with her swords, and he moved as if dancing with her, as if it were nothing to anticipate her next advance.

   The Lamanite pushed the side of his spear toward her to create some distance between them. Kiah crossed her swords to absorb the blow and jumped back. With breathing room, Kiah began to circle the Lamanite as he moved opposite her. She felt great beads of sweat pouring down her back from the smothering heat and her exertion. Kiah considered her chances at outrunning him and ruled the idea out. His spear would catch her before she reached the jungle.

   Kiah engaged the Lamanite, her weapons flashing back and forth as she came at him. Over and over Kiah feinted, looking for an opening in his defense. He had none. Every strike she made was met with immediate deflection.

   She was going to lose, she suddenly realized. It didn't matter how many men she had bested in the past. This Lamanite was better. Kiah was going to die out here in this clearing, away from the city walls of Zarahemla. Her father might never even know what had happened to her. With a renewed vigor, she sliced and swiped at him with her short swords. If she was going to die, she would do her best to take him with her.

   Her breathing sounded overly harsh in her ears, and she could hear that the man's breaths were as short and fast as her own. The sound of her obsidian swords hitting his silver-plated spear echoed through the surrounding jungle.

   Kiah became conscious of how he hadn't tried to attack her offensively. He was only blocking her moves. Why wasn't he trying to stab at her with his spear? In letting her mind wander for that brief moment, Kiah gave her opponent an edge. He kicked at the back of her feet, causing her to flail through the air until she landed flat on her back.

   The wind was knocked from her as she hit the ground hard, and Kiah couldn't catch her breath. It didn't help when a moment later the Lamanite had pinned her upper arms to the ground with his spear. He locked her legs down with one of his own. "Enough," he ground out. "Stop."

   Kiah glared at him defiantly and struggled to move. The Lamanite pushed down harder. "Stop," he commanded again. Kiah relaxed. Maybe if it seemed like she was obeying, he would let her up, and she could gain the advantage.

   After a couple of moments, the Lamanite got up, walking backward and away from her. She quickly rolled and stood, pushing her unbound, waist-length hair behind her shoulder.

   He tossed his spear to one side. She watched in confusion as he removed some other small weapons from his person, throwing them next to the spear. He held his hands up to show that he was defenseless. "I have no reason to fight you."

   Kiah was in a quandary. What if he had a hidden weapon? Did he want her to let her guard down so that he could attack again?

   "How do I know this isn't a trick?" she finally asked.

   "I give you my word that it isn't," the man said, studying her carefully. Something about him seemed intimidating to her. Kiah remembered when she was little and her father had taken her to see a caged jaguar. This man reminded her of that cat. There was power and strength behind his tightly leashed façade. She would have to be careful.

   But she knew she couldn't attack a man without weapons, a man who said he did not want to fight. It was the first thing her father taught all his soldiers. They fought only to protect themselves. Kiah nodded and put her weapons back in their sheaths. Before Kiah had arrived at her decision, the Lamanite seemed to know he had nothing to fear. The young man acted oblivious to her presence as he collected the deer he had killed.

   Kiah watched him out of the corner of her eye. Now that she wasn't anticipating her own premature death, she could better appreciate what she saw. He wore the clothing of the highland Lamanites, a short tunic bottom and vest over bare chest. He pushed his fingers through his short, spiky black hair. Kiah followed the movement of his hand from his hair to his face, where he wiped dirt off of high cheekbones that looked as if they had been cut from stone. He was tall, even taller than she was. The only men Kiah knew that were taller than her were her family members. With a strange tingling in her stomach, Kiah realized that he was, quite possibly, the most handsome man she had ever seen.

   Feeling a different kind of fear, Kiah desperately wished that she had given in and let Aunt Linoah do her hair that morning. She looked around for the hair tie she had lost in the fight but didn't see it. She thought enviously for a moment of Shabana's always perfectly coifed hair and decided there was nothing she could do.

   "Hungry?"

   "What?" Kiah responded, not sure she'd heard him correctly. For a moment she thought he was offering to eat with her. Kiah had never actually eaten with a man before—her father and brother always took their meals first and in a different room. This stranger was treating her as if it didn't matter that she was a woman, as if she were his equal.

   The man grinned at her with a dazzling smile. "Are you hungry? Fighting makes me famished."

   Kiah saw that the man was skinning the deer with one of his discarded knives. Much as she hated to admit it, she was hungry. She had run out of the house so upset that morning that she hadn't had a chance to eat. Blowing up the kitchen had put a damper on her whole day.

   Her stomach rumbled loudly in response, and the man laughed. "That sounds like a yes. Did you want to . . ." he asked, motioning toward the deer with his eyes. Kiah realized that he was asking if she wanted to cook it. Of course, he would assume that she would want to take over.

   "You seem to know what you're doing." Kiah shrugged, trying to appear casual. She began picking up pieces of wood so that she could start a fire. Since she couldn't cook the deer, she could at least provide the means of doing so.

   Kiah continued walking along the tree line, gathering wood and dried fronds for kindling.

   "You fight well," the man offered over his shoulder.

   "So do you," Kiah said. She walked back to where he was and stacked the wood she had found, sticking the kindling in the gaps that had formed.

   The man took the brocket deer he'd skinned and placed it on a stick over Kiah's fire. "I'm Jeran."

   "Kiah," she returned. The entire experience started to seem completely unreal. She was about to have a meal that a Lamanite had prepared for her in the wilderness. Her father would kill her for being so reckless. Kiah considered that Jeran could have poisoned the deer when she had her back turned. She reminded herself that he could have killed her in their fight at any point and that he had promised he wouldn't hurt her.

   They sat in strained silence as the cooking fire crackled and popped. It wasn't long before the air was filled with the sweet smell of the cooked meat. Jeran took one of his knives, cutting off some of the outer meat and handing it to Kiah first.

   She blew on the meat, trying to cool it down enough to put it in her mouth. "Good," she said after taking the first bite.

   "I'm glad you like it," he replied, swatting a fly away from the rest of the meat. He cut off a large piece for himself.

   Jeran cleared his throat. "I know it isn't my concern, but when I found you dangling from my snare, you looked like you were crying. Are you all right?"

   Kiah carefully avoided his gaze. "I don't want to talk about it."

   "Are you certain?"

   "Do you want to tell me what you're doing in Nephite country?" Kiah challenged.

   She was rewarded with Jeran's beautiful smile. "Not particularly."

   "You aren't a spy, are you?" she gasped. The thought hadn't occurred to her earlier. What would she do if he were a spy, sent here to gather information for his people?

   "I'm not a spy."

   Something in his tone told her that Jeran was telling the truth. But if he wasn't a spy and didn't want to fight . . . Kiah wondered what he was doing so close to Zarahemla.

   Once she had her fill, Kiah turned her body away from Jeran in order to quietly pray and give thanks for the food. She opened her eyes to see if Jeran had noticed, but he was focused on his meat.

   Kiah had to will herself not to stare at Jeran. Her gaze wandered and stopped on Jeran's weapons. She stared with longing at the spear. Her father hadn't allowed her to train with a spear because he thought the spear a waste since it had only a one-time use in battle. Arrows at least could be restocked. Swords were his main choice of weapon—used from the beginning of a fight to the end. He told her spears expended needless energy and effort.

   Without speaking, Jeran picked up the spear and handed it to her. Kiah raised one eyebrow at him in question. Jeran nodded to indicate that Kiah could take the spear.

   Kiah hefted the weapon in her palms. It was made of a smooth, polished shaft of wood, overlaid with intricately engraved silver metalworking. It looked costly.

   "It's beautiful," Kiah breathed, running her fingers lightly along the edge.

   "It was my father's," Jeran said. "Do you know how to use one?"

   Kiah told him she didn't.

   "I could teach you," Jeran said.

   Kiah's eyes widened in surprise. "Now?"

   "Not now. It will be dark soon." Jeran laughed and took his spear back. "Another time. Tomorrow, perhaps."

   A strong inner struggle took over. She wanted to learn how to use the spear. And, truth be told, some traitorous part of her wanted to see Jeran again. The fact that he wasn't repulsed by her ability to use weapons was enough to make her want to come back. She knew she should say no. She should go home and forget this afternoon ever happened. Kiah looked into Jeran's eyes and found herself nodding and echoing, "Tomorrow. But how do I know you won't come back tomorrow with an army of Lamanites to kidnap me?"

   "How do I know you won't come back tomorrow with an army of Nephites to kidnap me?" Jeran challenged back. Kiah could again see the playfulness in his eyes, and she couldn't help but relax.

   "I won't," she said with a shy smile.

   "Neither will I."

   "Well, then. I should, um, leave," Kiah said, surprised that she didn't really want to go. Jeran stood and offered Kiah his hand to help her up. His grasp was firm and warm. She nearly gasped when a shock of something like lightning seemed to pass between them in that simple contact. Kiah stood and pulled her hand back as if she'd been scalded. She wondered if he had felt it too.

   "Until tomorrow."

   "Tomorrow." She nodded and headed in the direction of the Sidon. Kiah stopped at the jungle's edge to sneak a look back at Jeran and felt embarrassed when she saw that he was watching her. She raised her hand in farewell and faded into the thick underbrush.


   Jeran lay on top of a hill, looking down into the valley of Zarahemla. He felt overwhelmed by the number of Nephites that scurried like ants all over the valley floor. They were not nearly as numerous as the Lamanites, but there were more than he had expected. How would he find one man among so many?

   The sun had begun to set, and its dying rays cast a soft pink glow across the large, white temple in the center of the city. It made Jeran feel homesick. He missed his mother all over again. He remembered how badly she had longed to return to her home in Zarahemla.

   He knew he should be coming up with a plan to find Captain Moroni. Without Moroni's help, he feared he would always be an outcast, never belonging anywhere. Jeran saw that he had severely underestimated the size of the army that would be traveling with the mighty chief captain. And it looked like they were preparing to return to battle. Jeran didn't know how he would find Captain Moroni before they departed. If he just walked up to the city walls, or to the departing army, they might kill him first and ask questions later.

   Jeran turned over on his back and looked up at the darkening sky. He tried to focus on finding Moroni, but he found that his thoughts kept returning to the girl he had met that day. Never had he met a woman so skilled with weapons. He thought of all the girls from his own village, simpering and trying to showcase what kind of wives and mothers they would be. Jeran could honestly and thankfully say he didn't know anyone quite like Kiah. He conjured the image of her long, dark brown hair. It reminded him of his mother's favorite chocolate drink—swirling and moving as if it had a life of its own.

   But it was her eyes that had held him captive, eyes that had nearly gotten him killed when he almost hadn't blocked one of her attacks in time. Jeran tried to decide on the right color to call them and could think only of a stone that his father had brought home many years ago from his travels. It had been a dark, yellowish brown jewel, one that glittered intensely. Like golden honey, he thought.

   A slow smile crept across his face. She had seemed completely unaware of her own beauty, something that intrigued him as much as her athletic prowess. She hadn't tried to flirt or play coy with him. He tried to discern what had prompted him to make his impulsive offer to teach her to use the spear, and as shocked as he was by his unintended suggestion, he was even more shocked that she had accepted.

   Jeran had to wonder what kind of family allowed their daughter to roam the wilderness alone. She was lucky he had been the one to find her. He smiled. No. He felt like the lucky one.

   Until that moment, Jeran hadn't realized just how overwhelmingly lonely he was. He had wandered the wilderness for the last four years, hunted by both Lamanites and Nephites. He couldn't remember the last conversation he'd had with another person.

   He wondered if it was his loneliness that had prompted him to ask Kiah to return. He smiled again, because Jeran knew that even if he were living at home with his own people, he would have wanted to see more of Kiah.

   Jeran stood and watched as the city was eaten up by the darkness, like a snake swallowing its prey whole. When he could no longer make out the city walls, he turned to go back into the jungle. He was anxious to go to sleep, eager for morning to arrive so that he could see Kiah again.

   He stopped to make sure that the band of cloth tied to his right upper arm was still securely in place. Jeran couldn't afford for Kiah, or anyone for that matter, to see what lay beneath it.