Alma 44

The Nephies backed off and Moroni said to Zerahemnah, “This is ridiculous. This is not how we want to act. Capture, yes, but not massacre. We don’t want power or slavery. That’s your schtick. That and anger at our faith. Speaking of which, God obviously is on our side. Jesus pummeled you through us. We get it and wish you would too. We have the true church. God will never drop us from his core team (unless we sin or quit).

“So, given that I could run this sword through your neck right now, I command you to surrender and disarm—the wordplay of which I could exploit for a cheap laugh, but won’t. I do this in the name of the Great Spirit, as you might say, who (a) made us win, (b) let us live in a free country, and (c) gave us holy books made of metal. We’re happy, you’re alive, and can’t we all just get along? Let’s make a truce, one in which we are the victors for all time. In return, we promise not to cut you up into pieces and throw you downstream. Deal—or no deal?”

It was an offer Zerahemnah could not refuse. He handed his sword, mace, and bow to Moroni and said, “Here. You win. Take all of it. But no promises. They always get broken, including by you guys. Just let us leave. We don’t believe in your God, so we don’t believe he made you win. You’re just better fighters. You had a better battle plan. And really, this is all about breastplates, arm-guards, and shields. Not metaphors or metaphysics.”

When he heard that, Moroni handed back the weapons and said, “Alright. I don’t recall what I said, but you have to swear to stop attacking us. Promise or die. Right now.”

At that, Zerahemnah rushed Moroni, but a soldier swung his sword at Zerahemnah’s and broke it at the hilt, then sliced his scalp off. Zerahemnah screamed, his scalp dripping blood in a trail as he ran into his troops, who shielded him. The soldier who’d scalped him lifted the scalp from the ground, held it up on the tip, and yelled at the Lamanite troops, “Just like this scalp dropped to the ground, you’ll all drop if you don’t make a peace agreement this instant!”

Many of the Lamanite army, scared to the bone, threw down their weapons and tearfully swore to stop fighting. The Nephites let them run off into the wilds.

This piqued Zerahemnah, who cajoled the remaining men to start fighting again. Moroni had had enough, gave the signal, and the Nephites started swinging their swords. The blades shredded the Lamanites’ bare skin. They folded over dead, just collapsed one by one, blood spurting and oozing from their wounds.

Zerahemnah shouted he was ready to declare peace. If the Nephites would quit. Moroni gave the signal and his men withdrew. They gathered up the Lamanites’ weapons and let the unarmed soldiers flee. Then they threw bodies into the Sidon, where they began to wash down to the sea as the soldiers, some wounded, staggered home.

That was how the eighteenth year of the judges’ reign ended. And that’s the end of Alma’s account on Nephi’s plates.