Upon the Isles of the Sea, an adventure tale from The Nephite Chronicles, is a fictional account of the origins of the beautiful Polynesian people and their centuries-long journey from Zarahemla, to Hawaii, to Aotearoa, the Land of the Long White Cloud, now known as New Zealand.

With a woman's touch, she brought life and added much needed humor to the budding romance between a warrior turned community leader and the girl who waited for the right time to show him the will of the Lord.

I wish to express my deep love for my daughter, my admiration for the family she and her husband, Clint Armitage are raising, and my heart-felt gratitude for the opportunity Kate and I had to collaborate on this story. It was nearly as enjoyable as the years we spent playing golf together.

That there remained a Lamanite army to challenge the City of Nephi, proved-as it had years earlier when King Amalickiah conquered the city, that the many years the Nephites had valiantly fought were insufficient to convince the enemy that a strong arm, and a righteous cause, should give them pause.

No longer striplings, Seth, Jared, and all the Sons of Helaman became seasoned warriors and grew prematurely old in the righteous cause their fathers had foresworn.

And there seemed no peaceable end in sight.

Over eight years had passed since he had cast eyes on his homeland-eight years of war amongst the peoples of his land. Barely fifteen when he left, Seth had matured in the service of his Lord and as he embraced the vision of his native valley-his childhood memories flooding his mind-his emotion finally overtook him and he lowered himself to the ground, sitting with his head resting upon his knees, the tears of joy streaming down his face.

How well he remembered the day he and Jared had marched away with several other young men from neighboring villages, proud to be called to serve with the older warriors. His father, Hamet, had blessed him prior to leaving and reminded him of the need to stay close to the Lord. For the first year or so he was gone, he could still visualize his mother and father standing in the doorway of their small home, nothing more than a hut actually, built by Seth's father from mud bricks baked in the sun and woven together with straw. That vision of his home had sustained him through the initial shock of battle with the invading Lamanites, but, sometime into the second year, he found that even as he lay under the stars at night, trying to recall his parent's faces, they had faded from his memory.

When General Helaman had finally told them that they were being disbanded and sent home, the tears of joy had spread throughout the battalion, called by their leader "stripling warriors" because of their youth.
Seth didn't feel youthful. Eight years had passed. Eight years that most young men spend pursuing childish adventures-years that most young men spend learning what the world is all about. Eight years for Seth, Jared, and two thousand other young men from throughout the land of the people of Ammon that was spent fighting, surviving on little or no food, and endlessly marching from one place to another. Eight years of memories that he now wished he could forget, as the memories of his parents had faded. And now, it was over. He was going home.

For over three weeks he had journeyed toward his home, the wars finally complete, the Nephite cities recaptured, and peace once again upon the land. Traveling at first in the company of two dozen other warriors, also returning to their homes, he had, for the past four days, continued the journey alone, as one by one the other young men diverted toward their home villages.

For the previous two days, Seth had been in familiar territory-land he had hunted with his father before the wars came upon his people. Now, as he sat on the hillside and gazed upon the familiar sight of his village below, his heart welled up with gratitude for the blessings of the Lord. The promises of his mother and of General Helaman-that the Lord would preserve their lives if they remained faithful-had come to pass.

Seth unbuckled his leather bindings, removed his breastplate and sword and, placing his bow beside them on the ground, he stepped back into the tree line. He walked for several minutes until he found a small, familiar clearing in the trees, a place shown him by his father in years gone by, where they had stopped to pray before commencing their hunt. Slowly he lowered himself to his knees and raised his voice in supplication.

"Oh mighty God, hear the words of thy servant, Seth. Thou hast preserved my life and returned me to my homeland as thou hast promised. Indeed all of the sons of Helaman hast thou preserved. Continue with me, Lord, as I seek to serve thee."

Seth bowed his head and sat back on his legs for several minutes, the silence of the forest broken only by the sound of birds taking flight as several monkeys frolicked through the tree tops. Finally, his solitude interrupted by the incessant chattering of the monkeys-their privacy invaded by this stranger-Seth rose and returned to the edge of the forest. He gathered his equipment and remaining food and began his descent toward the village below.

Chapter One continues ...