 
# The Seventh Mountain

## Chronicles of a Magi

### Gene Curtis
A Prize Books Publication

Copy edited by Shirley S. Meunier, Clarkson University.

Story edited by Donna Brauda and Christina S. Brauda

Cover design and layout by Jeremy Robinson

Copyright © 2011 by Gene Curtis

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

Proudly published in the United States of America: Virgilina, Virginia.
To my wife and daughter:

for love, laughter and inspiration.
**Acknowledgments** :

Lyrics from "In the Garden" public domain, copyright 1912 by C. Austin Miles.
The Seventh Mountain is a purely fictional story. Many of the places in this story are real. The descriptions of these locations have been modified to fit the story. Any and all names or descriptions of people in this story are fictional. Any similarity to any real person or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Some events in this story are based on real events but are used in a purely fictional manner. This story is solely a work of fiction, nothing more.

### THE

### SEVENTH

### MOUNTAIN

### Chapter 1

# The Day Before Twelve

The voices of history yet to come had spoken his name.

The desert smelled hot, like a smoldering griddle. The white-hot brightness beat Mark's shadow into a small oval that sought solace beneath him. He knelt, touched the sand and his fingers seared. Fist sized stones baked on the desolate landscape and black distortions shimmered in the expanse that stretched before him. A stone wall blocked the way to a terraced mountain that stood far in the distance. It was a mountain unlike any he had ever seen yet it stood there, enduring, stoic, facing the onslaught of heat and time. This wasn't the way to school.

The sun began to roast his face and neck; blisters started to form. Shade, he needed shade. The mountain was too far away. He looked around and there was nothing, nowhere to go, no shade anywhere. He knew he was going to be late for school.

Suddenly it was cool, oh, so very cool. He couldn't remember how he had gotten there, but he was standing in an ornate room. It didn't matter. It was good to be out of the sweltering sun. Looking around, he didn't know where he was. Three-quarter-round couches flanked matching large marble tables, each in a different color. There were at least a dozen of them, every one big enough to seat no less than thirty people. Chalkboards lined the wall above a short stage. This wasn't the right school.

"Hello. Is there anybody here?"

No one answered. A strange uneasiness began to settle over him. There was a fear here, tangible, like when you wake up in the middle of the night startled, laying stark still, watching for a shadow to move and straining for the slightest sound. He waited for any noise, any movement of whatever was preparing to strike.

It grew from something imperceptible at first then suddenly the danger was too real. He could feel it, taste it and smell it. He just couldn't see it. It grabbed his stomach and squeezed, making him feel sick, like he had to puke. _I've got to get out of here_!

He opened the door into a stone hallway and looked both ways. It seemed endless, curving off out of sight in both directions. The marble floors glistened. Doorways, paintings and sculptures lined both sides of the hall.

A deep, contemptuous voice burst into his head. "This is where you'll die."

Mark didn't turn to look. He darted to the next room and ducked in. It was another classroom. He looked back out. No one was there.

"You're going to die here." The voice boomed from nowhere and everywhere.

Mark jumped. He looked behind himself. No one was there. He backed into the hall. Every inch of hall was decorated in ornate marble, stretching high to the ceiling. The ceiling was decorated with burnished wooden beams that spanned from wall to wall, forming a diamond shaped pattern. Elaborate chandeliers dangled from every intersection.

"You're going to die here."

He looked around again. Still, no one was there. He started running. The hall seemed endless. Step after step took him past statues, doors and paintings. Everything looked the same.

He knew the name of the voice. He just couldn't bring it to the front of his mind. It was an old name, ancient and evil. It was a name that held meaning. He didn't know how he knew it, but he knew that people used to shake in fear at just the mere mention of this name. What was this name? He just couldn't form it in his mind. It wasn't like any of the common names that he had ever heard associated with evil like Lucifer, Satan, or the Devil. It was different. This name itself was power, subtle and deadly. It felt like suddenly realizing that a Copperhead was one step ahead and it was about to strike. What was this name?

Somehow he knew some of the rooms at this school had really bad things in them. Each of those rooms held a terrible death; only you came back to life just so you could die again. He had to stay out of those rooms, but where were they?

The voice said again, "You're going to die."

He was still running when he came to a corridor that crossed the one that he was in. _Which way should I go?_ Both ways looked the same and exactly like the one that he was in. Something in him made him want to turn left and run as far as he could. Something else in him made him want to stand and fight. Which was right? _How can I fight something that I can't see?_

The voice was everywhere he went. He passed several more corridors before he had the urge to turn left again. This short passage dead-ended into an odd shaped wall. Eight inside corners inset into the end of the passage. All but one corner had protruding stones. He used the stones to climb the wall.

In the darkness of the platform before him he knew that he must face this evil thing whose name he might never know. He looked down and saw a sword in his hand. It felt ever so right. Its long thin blade was sharp on both sides. The handle and hilt were some form of polished metal. It was light, too light for its size. He rested the point on the stone slab that he was standing on. The sword tip slid into the stone effortlessly. He raked it to his side, carving the stone all the way, more than an inch deep, as it went. It took no physical exertion to slash the stone.

"You're going to die here."

Mark saw, in his mind's eye, a sword coursing silently through the black toward him. He raised his sword to block the blow. His assailant's blade was sliced cleanly in two when it struck Mark's sword.

Mark's mind flashed an idea of escape. He jabbed his sword, hilt deep, into the stone floor and sliced a circle around himself. Gravity worked.

Mark fell to the floor below. It was a large room filled with rows of marble tables and chairs. Each row was a different color. Dining booths lined the walls. He picked himself up. Everything still worked.

"You're going to die here."

Mark started running again. There was no way to get away from the voice. He desperately wanted to get away from it. Running was the only thing that he could do. His thoughts reminded him of a first grade reading book, _Run Mark, run_. Running was his only escape.

A different level of consciousness broke over him. He realized that he was kicking the covers off his bed. He forced himself to lie still. Seconds ticked like single drops of rain before the coming storm. _Is this real or am I still asleep?_ He waited. The voice was silent.

Mark slid his robe on over his pajamas. The hardwood floor was unexpectedly cold. He almost expected it to be marble. He found a pair of socks in his old wooden dresser. He looked in the cracked mirror. The dream had been so real. He expected to have a sunburn.

Going downstairs, he paused, looking down the stairs before touching the wooden handrail. He halfway expected it to be lined with pictures and statues.

Military life didn't afford much in the way of luxuries. Elbowroom was one of those extravagances that was lacking in this house. That was obvious in the combination kitchen-dining room where his family was seated for breakfast.

His family was in their usual morning places. Dad was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the paper; mom was busy in the kitchen, and James was at the table, drinking his usual morning orange juice. He braced his mind for the onslaught of the voice to commence again. It never came.

James, his older and only brother, was both a brother and a bother. James felt that it was his place, and only his place, to insult Mark whenever the chance presented itself. Let someone else try it and there would be strife. James was definitely somebody to be reckoned with. That was the major bother; Mark always felt like _the little_ brother whenever James was around.

"Morning Mom. Morning Dad. Morning James. What's for breakfast?"

"Baby's hungry," said James.

"Shut up!"

Steve, Mark's dad, didn't stir from the newspaper. "That's enough, guys."

Mark's mom replied, "Biscuits and scrambled eggs."

"Okay, sounds good." Mark looked at his dad. "I had a strange dream last night."

Steve looked over the newspaper. "Dream?"

"Baby had a scary dream. Poor baby." James stuck his lower lip out.

Mark gave James a scowl. He knew that James was just trying to get under his skin. Mark almost forgot to use the etiquette that had been pounded into his head over the last almost twelve years. Being the kid of a Marine demanded that the use of terms like ma'am, sir, please and thank you, be steadfast elements of ordinary conversation.

"Yeah... I mean, yes, sir. It was like, so real. You know the kind I mean?"

Steve looked at Mark and nodded. "Yes. The kind where in the dream you think you're awake but you're not." He folded the newspaper in half and laid it on the table.

"Yes sir, that's the kind." Mark yawned and rubbed his eyes. "The first part was kind of all right. I was just trying to find my way to school, only I didn't know the way. I was lost in some kind of a desert only it was weird. It was too hot, even for a desert. It had rocks and junk all over. And... there was this mountain in the distance." Mark paused here and then finished hurriedly, "I knew I had to go to school, but I couldn't. I was lost. I didn't know the way."

Steve looked at Shirley. They both had a prickle of trepidation. Was this the beginning of the prediction that the hooded man had spoken of, or was it just Mark's natural apprehension of starting junior high school next year?

Steve pulled a chair out for Mark to sit in.

"Well, let's see. Being in the desert is kind of a normal dream. Feeling lost is kind of a normal dream too, and dreaming about a mountain up ahead is kind of common. You see a mountain looks big and imposing. It makes you think that you can never cross it. Being lost in the desert with a mountain being the only landmark; that leaves you only one way to go. The way to solve the problem is to go toward the mountain. You cross a mountain one step at a time."

Mark said, "I think I understand." Only he didn't, not really. He knew that the dream had meant much more than just that. The dream had the feel of being important, very important.

"Well now, let's see if we can tackle the other part of the dream."

"This part was different, but kind of the same. I was in this school and everywhere that I went there was this big voice. It kept telling me I was going to die. I tried to get away but I couldn't."

"Baby was soooo scared."

Steve looked at James. "Knock it off."

James frowned. "Yes, sir."

"Tell me what the school was like."

"The school was different from any school I've ever heard of. It had marble walls and big crystal hanging light things. It felt good to be out of the desert, someplace cool. I don't know if it was in the mountain from the first part or not. I couldn't see outside; there weren't any windows. It had this really long hall with lots of doors and I knew some rooms had really bad things in them. I knew I had to stay out of those rooms. I couldn't get away from the voice that..." Mark hesitated about saying the voice was in his head, saying instead, "It was everywhere, that voice. It hated me. It kept telling me I was going to die."

Steve paused for a moment. "It sounds to me like you might be a bit concerned about leaving grade school this year and starting junior high school next year. You don't know what to expect. Anytime you change from something that is familiar to something that is unfamiliar, well, it's a little strange feeling, maybe a little scary at times. You did start school a year earlier than most kids. It might be that deep down you're feeling like you won't be up to the task. What do you think?"

"Maybe you're right. I never thought of it like that. Thanks." Mark knew that his father's explanation about this dream should have been right, but his inner voice told him that it wasn't.

Everyone had just about finished breakfast. Steve said, "You guys are running late this morning. Go ahead and get ready for school."

The dream was still fresh in Mark's mind when he went to school that day. The school turned out to be the same as it had always been and he was glad that it was. The beige cinderblock walls sported a few bulletin boards and display cases. The terrazzo floor exhibited the same old and worn appearance. The faint musty smell of old paper and the unpleasant smell of copy machines lingered in the hall. Unlike his dream, spring green filled the large windows that still dominated the outside wall of his classroom. This school was nothing like the one in his dream and that reassured him that it really had been only a dream. It felt like finally being home after a really bad day when everything that could go wrong, did.

* * *

Steve and Shirley seized the opportunity to go horseback riding while the boys were in school. Shirley Young was Mark's mother, twenty-nine on both of her last two birthdays, and she still looked like she was no older than eighteen. Sun-ray colored strands flowed across her shoulders like a magazine model's, and her gentle azure eyes always reflected a deep felt love of all the wonders of nature. Her smile warmed even the coldest winter day. It had been here, in this very park, that Shirley had discovered her true purpose in life. To her, keeping her family safe and secure was all that really mattered.

Shirley, being raised in Georgia and then moving to North Carolina, had southern charm dripping from her voice. North Carolina had given her the habit of calling everyone honey or hon, something that even after thirteen years of marriage; Steve couldn't quite get used to.

She held the reins lightly as her horse ambled along the familiar wooded path. The sweet smell of spring pine and daffodils wafted on the morning breeze. It was beginning to look like it would be a perfect day. It had started this same way twelve years ago. Tomorrow would complete the twelve years.

"Honey, can you believe it? Tomorrow Mark will be twelve years old."

"It seems like yesterday."

Steve Young was Mark's father. His square jaw and huge biceps were standard Marine issue, nothing remarkable there. The remarkable thing about Steve was his voice. His voice was a remnant of being raised in Scotland during his formative years. He had never lost that sweet melody even though he spent the latter part of his life in the Southern United States. That southern drawl never did take hold.

Steve was just about to complete his third tour of duty. Events of recent history had kept him deployed for the most part. He loved to spend what little time he had stateside with his family, and he always wanted to make the most of it. To Steve, being a practical, down to earth, get the job done kind of guy was what life was all about.

"Do you think he'll like his new bike?"

"Yeah, he'll love it. It's the best there is."

Shirley stopped. Steve brought his mount up beside her and his eyes smiled at her.

"While we are on the topic, Mark's birthday that is, we have never fully discussed what happened here, twelve years ago."

Steve's eyes narrowed. "Why do we need to discuss it? What's to discuss?"

"Steve." She hesitated. "That horse broke both of your legs. I heard them break. When I woke up, you were healed. What happened?"

"That's not all that horse did." He put his hand on his collarbone. "My left collarbone was smashed, broken ribs, too. That horse hit me so hard; I know I had internal injuries." He remembered the taste of blood gurgling up from his throat. Steve's training as a Marine had taught him to assess his injuries. That taste definitely meant he was bleeding inside.

"Oh hon! I didn't know."

"Here's the kicker; that horse wasn't after me. She was hell bent on getting to you."

"What makes you say that?"

"I tried to get her to come after me. When I moved, she focused on you."

"So that's what you were doing. You dove back in front of her to keep her from getting to me."

"Yeah... Now you know. I don't want to talk about it anymore." He tapped the horse with the reins to get it going again.

"Why don't you want to talk about it?"

"I just don't."

Shirley started to speak, but Steve stopped and spoke before she could. He knew that she wasn't going to leave it alone. He turned the horse to face her.

"You know, throughout my life there has never, ever been a situation where I couldn't act in order to make a difference."

"But honey, it was you that acted. What you did saved us both."

"That's not what I mean. I've been shot, blown up, run over, half-drowned, folded, spindled and mutilated and whatever else you can think of! I have always been able to turn the tide! ME! Always, every time... every single time, except this one time. The one time that it meant the most to me to be able to act, I was the one who needed rescuing!" The impact of his fist in his hand let her know how serious he was.

She looked deep into his eyes. "I guess that it has been eating at me too. I mean, there you were on the ground, broken and bleeding, and I was helpless to do anything. I think I kind of know what you are saying."

"No! You don't understand... I failed! I tried to save the most precious thing in the world and I failed! Do you understand what that means?"

"Honey, you didn't fail. Your courage bought us a few precious moments of hope. If it weren't for that, then it would have been too late for those two guys to help us."

Steve looked down and shook his head. She didn't understand. Those two guys being there was just a fluke. It wasn't something that you could depend on. Being a soldier that could get the job done was something that you could depend on. Failure usually meant the death of what one held dearest. He knew that he needed to change the subject. He calmed his tone.

"While we're on the topic, there is something else you don't know."

"What do you mean?"

"I had come around for a few minutes. Tim, the big one, told me that our son would have to leave home and go to an unusual school."

"Unusual school? What unusual school?"

"He didn't say. He did say that it would happen when Mark was twelve."

"Well, I'll tell you this; Mark isn't going to any school that we don't approve first."

"We might not have any say in the matter."

"How can we not have any say? We're his parents."

"I don't know, but he told me that I would know what to do, when I needed to do it."

"And you believed him? You don't even know who these guys are!"

"He said they were Magi."

"Magi? What do you mean, Magi?"

"You saw what they could do."

"Yeah, but... Magi?"

"Yep, that's what he said. He also said that I could trust anyone that says 'The best people are born in stables.'"

"We have heard that a lot."

"Yep. It's not your common everyday saying."

"Coincidence. That's all it is."

"Maybe, maybe not."

* * *

After school, the dream had faded from his memory, for the most part. Friday afternoons brought a chore that he didn't mind so much. His father had assigned this chore in the third grade. "Mrs. Jenkins is an elderly lady. It's hard for her to get around. I want you to stop by her house every Friday, on the way home from school. You check to see if there is anything that you can do for her. If she offers to give you money, you refuse. Rain or shine, you do this."

Mark had no idea how old Mrs. Jenkins was. He knew that she lived alone on a small income. He also knew that his dad had been right when he had told him not to charge her for anything. Mrs. Jenkins was a nice lady. He enjoyed helping her. There weren't too many things that she could do for herself. Today, she was out of bread and milk.

Mark was on the way back from the store when he saw Keith Green and his cohorts standing in the street up ahead. Keith Green always meant trouble for Mark. Keith Green always meant trouble for anyone smaller than he was.

Keith was a year older than Mark and twice Mark's size. Mark thought that he might stand a chance at winning a fair fight against Keith, but with Keith, it was never fair, and it was always a fight. Keith had been in many fights. Everyone he had started. Everyone he and his _buddies_ had won. Never was Keith anywhere to be found without his _buddies_.

"Mark, Mark." Keith was letting him know that he was the next target.

Mark heard one of the cronies say, "Hah! Sounds like a harelip dog. Mark, Mark... Mark, Mark, Mark."

Mark walked to the other side of the street. Beaufort, a ferocious German Shepherd ran to the fence that kept him in his yard. He always tried to bite anyone who got too close to his chain link fence. Vicious, he would bite at the fence, snarling, barking; twisting his head in fits, trying to rip a hole through the chain links.

Keith and his gang crossed to block Mark's path. "Hi, Mark. I just want you to meet one of my new friends." The group surrounded Mark and Keith pointed to the new guy. He turned to see who Keith was pointing out.

Mark only felt the blow that hit his mouth. White flashed in the back of his eyes. He felt his head wrench around from the force of the impact. The bag he was carrying hit the pavement. Anger swelled in him. He thought to return the punch.

"This is Rick. He don't like tattletales. Neither do I."

Someone kicked the bag that he had dropped. Milk splattered everywhere. Mark felt a hand push him back. He tripped over someone kneeling behind him and fell over backwards. Hands grabbed him. He felt himself flying through the air. They were throwing him over the fence.

The ground came up and hit him hard. He scrambled to right himself only to find himself looking square into Beaufort's foamy grin. He didn't dare move.

Keith's voice came from behind him. "You said that if you ever saw anyone stealing, that you would tell. You better think that over."

Keith made sure that Mark understood what this was about. Mark had never told on anyone for anything. That particular situation had never come up. Mark thought to himself, _I just said when the teacher asked, "What would you do if you saw someone stealing?" that I would tell. What was I supposed to say? My teacher asked that question in class and Keith isn't even in my class. How did he find out?_

Mark stayed as still as he could while he and Beaufort eyeballed each other and the bullies strolled off, laughing. He didn't risk even a swallow. _You don't want to attack me, boy._

Something in Mark's mind told him that Beaufort wasn't going to harm him. In fact, somehow he knew that Beaufort wanted to go after the other guys. He was waiting for permission from Mark to do just that. It was a thought and a feeling that had just popped into his head, nowhere near logical, but he knew it, none-the-less.

Mark knew that if Beaufort jumped the fence and bit someone that Beaufort would be in a lot of trouble. Instinctively, tentatively, he reached out and scratched the dog behind the ear. He looked over his shoulder. "That's okay, boy. They're gone now."

That night, before bed, Mark went to James's room.

"What do you think it all means? I mean my dream." Mark sat on James's bed.

"I don't know. It sure is strange. Dad's probably right."

Mark shrugged. "Yeah, I guess you're right. What's junior high like?"

"Well... it's different than grade school. Like instead of being in one class all the time, you get different classes and different teachers and all. There isn't any recess but there's gym class. It's not the same, but it's pretty cool. The best thing is lunch. If you don't like what they serve in the main line, you can get into the hamburger and fries line!"

"You're kidding!" He gave James a friendly push.

"No, for real. They usually have really good stuff in the main line, too."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Yesterday we had pizza. The day before there was chicken-fried rice. Their meatloaf isn't that good. Mom's is better."

"What's it like having different classes?"

"At first it was kind of... scary. You know, like in your dream. See, they give you this piece of paper with all of your classes on it with the times and room numbers and everything. I used to dream, sometimes, that I had lost the piece of paper and couldn't find my way to class, but it was only a dream. It doesn't take long to remember where all of the classes are. It's automatic, like waking up and going down stairs. After a while it's like..." James searched for another word, then shrugged and repeated, "Just automatic."

Mark pondered for a moment before asking, "What are your classes like?"

"Well, first there's homeroom. That's where they take the roll and give announcements. Then I have history with Mr. Taylor. It's kind of boring. Then there's Mrs. Hampton in language class. She's really nice. Then gym class with Coach Trimble."

James deepened his voice to imitate Coach Trimble. "You're going to do calisthenics and more calisthenics."

"Next is lunch. Then comes music with Mrs. Byrd. Her class is okay but I'm not any good at music. Then there's science with Mr. Gardner. He makes you take a lot of notes. Last is math with Mrs. Peabody. Math is kind of easy with her. She explains everything."

"It sounds okay."

"Yeah, it's okay. You get five minutes between class bells. That's enough time so that you don't have to carry all of your books around all of the time. You don't get a desk to put all of your books in, like in grade school. You get a locker in the hall. You go to your locker between classes and change books and stuff. It's neat because you get to talk to your friends. It's not like having to wait until recess. Everybody gets out of class at the same time and goes into the halls to their lockers. It's different than grade school, but it's better."

"It sounds like they don't treat you like a little kid anymore."

"Well, they still treat you like a kid but not as much. You get to do more stuff, but they definitely don't treat you like a grown up."

"It doesn't sound scary."

"It isn't scary, just different."

There was a knock on the bedroom door and their mom's voice sounded muffled. "Young man, you're supposed to be in your own bed."

"Yes ma'am."

Mark got up and started toward the door. He turned toward James. "Thanks."

James smiled. "You're welcome, Dweeb."

### Chapter 2

# The Day of Twelve

Fate, Destiny, Happenstance, Luck. What's the difference?

That night, Mark knew that he was dreaming. The dream seemed real again. It was like he was awake, only he knew he wasn't. This time, the desert looked bleak but felt warm and somehow inviting. A goliath of a man stood beside him, silhouetted against the sky's piercing sun. Before him, a terraced, wedding-cake like mountain was a stark contrast to the flat, sandy, rock strewn, desert floor. The wall was behind him encircling the land for as far as he could see. It didn't seem hot this time.

The huge man gestured toward the mountain with his hand. "This is The Seventh Mountain." He looked back at Mark. "You have been chosen to go to school here. Most students are just called to go here. They have a choice. You can leave if you want, but no one has ever wanted to."

"Why me?"

"It is a part of who you are and who you will become."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Tim."

Mark turned to look at the man again. Tim stepped out from in front of the sun. Royal blue eyes glowed in his boulder face. His ebony hair was pulled back into a ponytail and his well-groomed beard hedged his beaming smile.

Mark felt that he should know this man. It was more of a feeling than a knowledge. There was something familiar about him, something familiar, yet distant, eroded by time, hidden in the shadows of his mind. Was this man friend or foe?

"There is something else that you need to see." Tim waved his hand and the scene changed. "This is what happened the day that you were born."

He watched his parents walk in the park, hand in hand, to the horse stable. The events that followed held him, mesmerized, waiting, hoping that it would be all right in the end.

"When you tell your parents about this dream, I want you to say something to them. Say, 'Only the best people are born in stables.' You tell them that, you hear."

Mark sat bolt upright in bed. The second part of the dream had been surreal. He had watched the events unfold as a spectator. It hadn't been a normal dream. He wasn't part of the action. Mark tried to remember if his parents had ever told him the story of his birth. He had never heard the tale.

Steak and eggs, the aroma beckoned Mark to join his family downstairs. That was his favorite breakfast, after all. Today was not just any old day, either. This very day he became twelve years old. Today he embarked on the journey from childhood to manhood. His family would be waiting for him to emerge so that they could commence the celebration.

His dad was right where he expected him to be, reading the paper at the table, acting like today was just any other old day. His mom was cooking breakfast. James was nowhere to be seen which meant that he could tell about this new dream without being taunted by his older brother. Mark sat in the chair across from his father.

"I had a scary dream last night. I mean, it wasn't scary for me; it was scary for you guys." He pointed at his parents. "I dreamed about a storm. This horse tried to kill you. Only the horse wasn't trying to kill you. It wanted to kill me."

James had tiptoed down the stairs behind Mark. No one had noticed him. He sat down on the stairs to listen to Mark tell about his dream. James had an unusual dream, too. That was what had kept him upstairs this morning. He had to check on some things. Things that seemed too far-fetched to be true, yet...

Steve laid the paper on the table. "That was the day that you were born."

"I know. That was in the dream, too."

"Come over here and sit down. I'll tell you the story."

Mark got up and sat on the same side of the table as his dad. "Okay. The guy in my dream said I should tell you something. He said that the best people are born in stables."

Crash! — Shirley dropped the plate that she was carrying. Ceramic fragments scattered over the hardwood floor. "What did you say?"

"The guy in my dream, Tim, said for me to tell you that the best people are born in stables. What does it mean? Did he mean me?"

"I don't believe it. This is not happening. It can't be."

"It was just a dream, Mom. Get a grip."

"That's no way to talk to your mother, son."

"Yes sir. Sorry... but it was just a dream, Dad."

"Let me tell you the story. Then you tell me what you think."

"Okay."

"Twelve years ago, today, your mother and I were walking hand and hand through that park up on the east side. We were just there yesterday. That's funny; I can't remember what it's called."

"White Oak." Shirley was busy cleaning up the shards from the plate she had dropped.

"White Oak Park. That was one of my last days at home before I had to ship out."

"Where'd you go?"

"Middle-East, so, you see, I wanted to spend as much time with your mother as I could."

Mark looked at his mom. She smiled.

"Your mother was almost ready to give birth to our child. That would be you."

"I know that."

"I thought, even as much as I wanted to, I wouldn't be home for your birth. A lot I knew."

"I was born right there in the park."

"That's right. I was so wrapped up in just being there with your mother. I remember thinking of how bright her blue eyes were. Your mom loves horses, so we strolled over to the horse corral and stables. I hadn't noticed the clouds forming over head."

"I like horses, too. Can I learn how to ride?"

"We'll see. Your mom couldn't ride then. I guess you already know that too."

"Uh-huh."

"Even though she couldn't ride, in her advanced condition, she enjoyed just being around them. I remember... she smiled at me, you know, the kind of smile that says 'I know something that you don't know.'"

"Yeah, she does that a lot."

"I remember that day like it was yesterday, the pleasant cool breeze, and the warmth of the sun. I wanted to savor every moment before I had to go."

"How long were you gone?"

"Almost a year. I wasn't back long either before I had to ship out for somewhere else, not a nice place either."

Shirley began setting the table. "He made sergeant after that. He got to stay home more then, because of training."

"All right, back to the story. Your mother said, 'I wish that you could be here when your son is born.' I barely noticed when a low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance."

"The storm's getting ready to start."

"Let me tell the story... I said, 'What makes you so sure it's going to be a boy. The doctor didn't let it slip, did he?' I think that some doctors might feel that it is important for the parents to know the gender of the child before it's born, so that they can prepare. Your mom and I had agreed that we wanted to be surprised. We would love and cherish you, whichever you were."

"I'm glad I was a boy."

"Your mother looked at me with a sly smile across her lips, 'Oh, I just know. Nobody told me.' The breeze was picking up. It had the heavy feel of rain.

"Your mother pointed at the horses and said, 'The horses are acting strange.' She had a touch of apprehension in her voice. 'Look at that bay over there. It's scared. You can see the white in her eyes. She wants to bolt, but there is no place for her to run. All of the other horses are doing short circles. They want to run away, too.'

"I looked up when I felt the mist on my face. The clouds seemed menacing. I was just about to speak when, BOOM! A bolt of lightning struck a pine tree not fifty yards from where we were standing. That tree, every bit of ninety feet tall, exploded straight down the middle. The thunder rattled our bones. Small shards of wood pelted us. I grabbed your mother to keep her from falling over. The concussion from that blast was that strong. I placed myself between her and the tree while I scanned for some place to take cover."

"That's when you went in the stable."

"Not quite yet. Another bolt struck another pine tree not ten yards from the previous one. It reminded me of taking incoming artillery fire. Our bones quivered and splinters peppered us again. The tumultuous downpour started. We needed cover, now. We were caught in a microburst. I knew it. I'd been caught in one before."

"What's a microburst?"

"It's like, well... imagine blowing on an anthill through a straw. Now imagine yourself as an ant caught in that blast. Add rain, hail, lightning, and gut-wrenching fear. That about says it all. That's what a microburst is like. It's not fun."

"Like a tornado?"

"Kind of, some people call it a straight-line tornado."

"That's scary."

"Yeah, it is. The three-sided stable didn't offer much cover but it was all we had. I nodded toward the stable. I grabbed your mother. Without hesitation, we both made our way through the corral fence and into the stable. You might say we were well motivated."

"I bet."

"Lightning flashed again. Thunder pounded. I couldn't see where it had struck. It had been very close, too close. I felt the tingle in my legs."

"You were struck by lightning?"

"No, but it was close. The wind started. I knew it would. Every single treetop that we could see snapped right off in a straight line as if some giant, invisible flying saucer had flown through the tops of the trees. The stable shook. Large sheets of metal roofing were being torn off and flying away. Your mom and I huddled in the corner of a stall. Lightning flashed about every ten seconds. Objects exploded with every flash. Every thunderclap penetrated us to the very core. I thought that the wind might blow us away. I had to work fast. I took my wet shirt off and tied one end of the shirt to a stall post that was set into the ground. The other end of the shirt I tied around your mom's ankle. I lashed my leg to the post with my belt. Your mother sobbed. I thought it was fear, I hadn't realized that she had started childbirth.

"I knew that a microburst was a short-lived event, less than twenty minutes. At most, we had less than fifteen minutes left to tough it out. Fifteen minutes can be an eternity when you're under fire. We were relatively safe in the corner of the stable. Well, as safe as we could be anyway, all things considered. I remember praying, 'Father be with us now, cover us, and keep us safe.'

"The wind ended. It had seemed like forever, but it had been only about ten minutes. The lightning was still striking but nowhere as near as close or as frequently as it had been. The rain had quit altogether.

"I straightened up and started to look around. The first thing that I noticed was that the stable was still mostly intact except for the roof at the far end. I turned to look and came nose to nose with that bay colored horse. Her eyes were wide with fear. She whinnied and reared."

"I know. I saw it in my dream."

"I tried to dodge her hooves but my leg was still lashed to the post. I couldn't move much. I knew that I had to keep the horse's attention on myself and away from your mother. I heard your mother sigh a little. The first hoof hit me on the right side of my chest. Broken ribs. The second hoof hit my shoulder. I heard my collarbone snap. I went down. The horse reared again. I managed to loosen the belt and free my leg. I was thinking that if I moved to the side the horse would follow me and not see your mom. I tried it. The horse didn't follow me. She was fixed on your mother. It was about then that I noticed two hooded figures just outside the stable. I dove toward your mother to protect her from the hooves. I called out, 'Help me.'

"Your mother had looked just in time to see the bay horse rearing and me diving toward her. She scrambled to back away. The hooves came down on the back of both of my legs. Both of my femurs snapped. I felt the pain. I saw in that instant your mom's predicament. She was still tied to the post. She couldn't get away. I managed to get my pocketknife from my pocket before I lost consciousness."

Shirley sat the platter of breakfast steaks and scrambled eggs on the table. "I remember it like it was yesterday. The horse started to rear up again. I reached for the knife. One of the hooded figures entered the stall. I quickly opened the knife. Another contraction hit me. The hooded figure interposed himself between the horse and me. I heard him yell 'Burn it now!' I remember that because I thought it was very odd. What was he supposed to burn, the stable? Lightning struck just outside of the stable."

Mark exclaimed, "Yeah! It hit the fence post right where Tim was!"

Shirley continued. "The hooded figure hopped around in front of the horse with his arms waving. He was saying something that I couldn't quite make out. Smoke started to come into the stable. Evidently the last lightning strike had started a fire."

"It did! Tim was burning something."

"It stunk, like fish burning on the grill. The horse cried out, crumpled down onto its front knees and rolled over onto its side. It let out a long sigh then lay still, like it was dead."

"It wasn't dead. In my dream, I saw it leave."

"The hooded figure turned toward me, and then toward your dad. He looked at me again and pulled back his hood. He was a young man, barely eighteen I guess. He had long, flowing, blond hair and deep green eyes. He said, 'My name is Gerod. Don't be afraid, we're here to help you.'

"Another huge hooded figure came into the stable. He pulled back his hood. He was an older man with thick black hair and a full beard. This was very much in contrast with his intense, very blue eyes. 'My name is Tim,' he said."

"That's the guy in my dream!"

"Another contraction hit me. I must have grimaced at the pain. In two strides Gerod, the blond kid, was at my side. He looked me straight in the eye and said, 'Don't worry, the best people are born in stables.' With that, he gave me a smile and a wink. 'You just lay back. Everything is going to be all right.'"

"That's why Tim said that I should tell you that."

"I was worried about your dad. I saw what that horse had done to him. 'What about Steve?'

"Don't you fret one bit. Tim is going to take care of him. You just lie back, and let's bring this baby into the world."

"There was something about his voice that I just trusted him. I can't explain it.

"He reached deep into a pocket of his robe. He took out a small bottle, put some of the liquid on his finger and rubbed my forehead with it. I felt a deep reassuring peace settle over me. When I woke up, I was cradling a newborn baby boy in my arms. Your dad was kneeling at my side.

"I was dumbfounded. His legs had been broken. I looked at his legs. They looked all right. I said, 'Your legs!'

"He said, 'Shhh... I'm all right.' I found out later that he was baffled, too.

"Just then a park ranger jeep pulled up outside.

"The ranger called out, 'Hello! Anyone here?'

"Your dad called to the ranger, 'We're over here.'

"The ranger strode over to the corner stall where your dad and I were. 'Well, well, well, what have we here?'

"Your dad said, 'Well, there were only two of us in here before the storm.'

"The ranger looked at you, your dad and me. He smiled while saying, 'I hear tell that the best people are born in stables.'"

Steve looked at Mark. "That's how it happened. We never saw the two strangers again. We never figured out who they were. When I woke up, that horse was gone too. We're still baffled about the whole thing. I don't think that we'll ever figure it out."

Mark looked at his dad. "That's exactly the dream I had last night, only, I was up in the air watching the whole thing. In the first part of the dream, Tim, the big guy, with the blue eyes, was in it. He showed me a mountain. He said that I was chosen to go to school there. I had to go there, I didn't have a choice. He said that the school was a part of who I am and who I will become. What do you think it means?"

"I don't really know, Mark. Tim told me the same thing. I came around a little, while he was working on me. He told me that it would start to happen when you were twelve years old."

"Wow! That was some story." James stood up and stepped off the stairs. All eyes turned to James. No one said anything. James walked up and handed Mark a piece of paper. "Happy birthday, misc."

Steve said, "What's a misc?"

"You know. It's like when you're sorting stuff. It's the things that don't fit into any other category."

James felt more like the misc after the dream that he had last night. He knew that his dream had been significant, not like any other dream that he had ever had or even heard of, until today.

He had sat on the stairs and listened to the story of Mark's birth. Mark had dreamed about his birth and it had been absolutely accurate. James was almost certain now that his dream and what he had found out as a result was probably true as well; he just didn't want to believe it.

Mark looked at the slip of paper. It read, "FREE HINT DIG." He recognized it immediately as an anagram.

Steve said, "What is this?"

Shirley was setting the rest of breakfast on the table.

Mark said to his dad, "James likes games. I suspect this is a clue to where my birthday present from him is."

Shirley said, "James! That's not very nice. How would you like it, if I made you clues for you to find your breakfast?"

Mark interrupted, "It's okay, Mom. We do this kind of thing all the time. James loves anagrams."

James said, "It's part of the present, Mom. It's just a short treasure hunt."

Shirley said in a half scolding tone, "All right then, sit down. It will have to wait until after breakfast."

Steve looked at everyone around the table before he bowed his head and asked the blessing.

After breakfast Mark went and got the Scrabble® tiles and went to work on the first clue. Unscrambled, the first clue, "FREE HINT DIG" was an anagram for "IN THE FRIDGE."

Mark went to the refrigerator and retrieved the second clue. The second clue read, "OUCH CREED HUNT." After a few minutes and several wrong answers, Mark had deciphered the second clue as "UNDER THE COUCH."

He looked under the couch and found another slip of paper that read "YONDER U BO." It took a little longer and much more careful thought for Mark to decrypt the message into "ON YOUR BED."

Mark returned with the brightly wrapped present in his hand. He was surprised to see a brand new bicycle standing in the kitchen.

Mark laid the present from James on the table and examined the bike. "Wow! A freestyle... with all the extras! Wow! Thanks Mom! Thanks Dad! This is awesome!"

Steve said, "Well, you have another present here. Go ahead and open it so you won't be late for school."

James and Mark said in unison, "Today is Saturday!"

Steve looked a little embarrassed. "Oh... I guess I forgot."

Mark opened the other present. It was obvious what it was before he had half finished tearing the paper off.

Shirley cried out softly, looking mildly horrified at James. "Oh, honey! That's yours. You can't give that away. That's meant for you."

It was the family Bible. It had belonged to Steve's great, great, great grandfather. He had brought it with him when he came over from Germany. It was even written in German. His instructions, written in English, in the front of the Bible, were to pass it to the first born on their eighth birthday. James had received it from Steve on his eighth birthday just as Steve had received it on his eighth birthday.

James said, "It's okay, Mom. It rightfully belongs to Mark anyway."

Shirley's mouth dropped open and she looked over at Steve. Steve looked at James and said, "What makes you say that, son?"

"It's okay, Dad. I know the truth. It's okay."

"What truth are you talking about?"

James started slowly, "I had this dream. The guy in the dream is, well... kind of special. He has long blond hair, green eyes and when he talks you just know that everything is all right. His name is Gerod. I think he's the same guy from when Mark was born. I knew when I heard the story of Mark's birth that I was doing the right thing."

"In my dream he waved his hand in front of me. Then I could see you, Dad, holding a baby. You were talking to the baby and I heard you say, 'It's going to be okay, James. It's going to be okay. Your momma and your poppa have been killed. You are going to stay with me and be my son. I'll never let anything bad happen to you. You'll be my son.' I knew the baby was me."

Steve started to speak, but James held up his hand. He was having trouble believing that it could be true. After all, he was Mark's older brother and had always been as far as he could remember.

"There's more."

James reached for the Bible and opened it to the family-tree section. His hand was a little shaky. If what was happening was true, he didn't want to believe it.

"The guy in my dream told me to look here. He said that my name was not recorded here, but that Mark's was. He told me that this Bible was supposed to be Mark's. That it was part of his providence."

James paused and waited for a response that never came, so he continued. He was hoping that someone would say that it was all just a dream.

"He waved his hand and I saw him helping mom in the stable, just like you and mom just said. I didn't understand that part of the dream until now. His friend was helping you. You looked dead at first, but then you were all better. Then he told me, 'The best people are born in stables.' I thought that was strange until I heard the story. I really felt weird listening to you describe it and all, after I had just dreamed it too."

It seemed the longest time before anyone spoke. Steve took a deep breath and broke the silence.

"James, your father was my best friend. We were in the Marines together. We were in the same squad. We were in Africa at the time. Where we were was not a nice place to be."

Steve spoke matter-of-factly to quell the emotion that flamed in his chest. "Your father, his name was James too, got a message that your mother, Tiffany, had been killed in a car crash. His chopper had just taken off to start his trip home to be with you when a rocket-propelled grenade hit it."

Steve frowned hard and gave a short sniff. His eyes began to water. His hands clenched together tightly and he took another deep breath.

"There were no survivors." The pain of the memory furrowed his brow. He bowed his head and paused.

James looked at Shirley. She sat across the table from him, her eyes beaming a mother's love at James. Those events had scared her too; leaving a wound that could only be healed in the dusty shadows of faded memory. James had been a little over a year old just then, much too young to be told. Since then, there had just not been any right time to tell him and she supposed that there never would be. She so much wanted to hold him and make the pain go away.

James glanced toward Mark. Mark was standing with his eyes wide and mouth open.

Steve looked back up at James. "I had the radioman work a telephone patch to Shirley. I told her what had happened. She went and got you from the center that you were in. When I got back home, we adopted you. Tiffany, your mother, was Shirley's best friend, too."

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DIDN'T TELL ME!"

"You've been our son ever since, never anything less." Steve held his arms out to James.

He looked at Steve for the longest time before accepting his embrace.

Shirley stepped up and pried James from Steve's arms, clutching him, trying to protect him with her love. Tears were still streaming down her face.

"Honey, we didn't tell you because it hurt so much."

Mark stood where he was, mouth open and breathing hard. The fact that James wasn't his brother hit him brutally. He felt like he was ready to fight but there was nothing to fight. James was his older brother and nothing was going to change that.

* * *

Later that day, Steve and Shirley sat at the kitchen table. The boys were outside, trying out the new stunt bike. Mark was excited about it. He had been working on a new stunt that no one had ever done before and he wanted to show James. James's opinion meant a lot to him.

Steve said, "Deep inside of me, I know what is starting to happen has to be part of some bigger plan. James said that Bible was part of Mark's providence. James doesn't use words like that."

"Hon, listen to yourself. You sound as if you are resigned to the fact that Mark is leaving home tomorrow. You don't even know if what this Tim said is true." Shirley didn't want to believe what was happening was any more significant than rain on a Tuesday morning. If what was happening was true, then it was the beginning of the breakup of her family. Her whole purpose for living was her family.

"Things are starting to happen. I wish I knew more," Steve said.

"It's just a lot of coincidence and wishful thinking, if you ask me."

Steve sighed, got up and walked to the refrigerator. "I don't know for a fact that what Tim said is true, but look at the evidence." Steve poured himself a glass of tea. "Would you like anything from the fridge?"

"No, thanks... I have looked at the evidence. I'm still not convinced. There are other possible explanations, you know."

Steve came back and sat down at the table again. "A freak storm when you were eight and a half months pregnant."

"Weather happens."

"A horse gone mad, down-right possessed if you ask me, trying to kill you. And, oh yes, it was after you, not me. I was just in the way."

"Panic caused by the storm."

"Two guys, dressed like monks straight out of the twelfth century, show up out of nowhere. One of them acts as midwife for you and you sleep through the delivery. The other guy heals me of two very badly broken legs, a shattered collarbone, busted ribs and internal injuries. I wake up as if nothing had happened to me."

"It's possible that you weren't injured as badly as you thought you were."

"Okay, how did they calm that horse down? I don't have a clue. I was totally out of it at that point."

"Some people have a way with animals."

"When he told me about Mark, it was nonchalant just like saying the rain had stopped. But I got the feeling that they were there for Mark. We were just incidentals."

"Some people are strange."

"Then... then James with his dream. Dead on, one hundred percent accurate. There are no ifs, ands or buts about it."

"He probably saw the family tree section in the Bible. Even if he didn't notice it consciously, his subconscious could have figured it out. That's why he had the dream."

"What about Mark? He didn't get that information from us."

"Maybe he heard bits and pieces, here and there. You know, just enough for him to put it together."

"No. It's too much. Whatever is starting to happen is very real and very mystical."

"You could be right. I could be right, too."

"As I see it, there are only two possibilities about this. It's either good or evil. I, for one, don't believe that it's evil. If it's good, then we have no place in standing against it."

### Chapter 3

# Clues of Fortune

_Sometimes it's the journey. Sometimes it's the destination. Most often it's both_.

School days ended and summer vacation settled over the residents of number one Trafalgar Court. Steve was enjoying his time stateside. He knew that it wouldn't be much longer before he would be called to duty in the Middle East again.

He knew that he would have a couple more months at home; maybe as much as a year before the call came. He also felt that he wouldn't have that much more time with his younger son, Mark. What the hooded man told him was true. He couldn't explain why, but he knew it was true. Mark would be leaving home.

He wanted to do something special with the family before this happened. He thought that a vacation would be just the thing. He decided that he would bring the subject of a family vacation up at breakfast and let the family decide where to go. Maybe they would like to go on a cruise. Cruises are generally expensive, but Steve thought that it would be worth dipping into the family savings. The hard part would be getting Shirley to agree.

Shirley walked into the kitchen. "Morning, hon."

Steve was sitting at the table. He folded the paper and laid it on the table. "What would you like for breakfast? I'm cooking."

"Okay." Shirley was a little puzzled. This was out of character for Steve. He only did this sort of thing when something was on his mind. "How about some French toast?"

"Roger that. French toast it is." Steve got up and walked to the kitchen counter.

James and Mark came down the stairs still sleepy and blurry eyed.

James said, "Good morning, Mom. Good morning, Dad."

Mark was his usual morning sleepy self. "Morning."

Shirley noticed that Mark was carrying the old German Family Bible. "Why do you have that Bible this morning, Mark?"

Mark sat down at the table. "Did anyone ever look at what was written in here?"

Shirley was a little baffled. "Of course, but it is all written in German except for inside the front cover and some of the family tree. We never had it translated."

"There is another part in English." He opened the Bible to the back leaf page and pushed the Bible across the table to his mother. "See."

She examined the hand written script. She looked baffled. "Honey, that's German."

Mark hated contradicting his mother but he knew that he was right. There was no other way that he could think to tell her that she was wrong other than to just say it. "No it isn't. I can read it. It's in English."

Shirley looked at it again. She turned it kitty-corner and tilted her head to the side. She turned it upside down. She squinted and then frowned. She got up and showed the page to James. "Can you read it? Is it in English?"

James looked at it. "I can't read it. It isn't English as far as I can tell."

Shirley took the book to Steve. He was still cooking but he had been following the conversation.

Mark watched intently.

Steve examined the writing. "It looks like German to me. I can't make it out."

"I can read it. Honest. Let me see it."

Shirley handed Mark the Bible back. "What's it say, honey?"

Mark began to read aloud.

Hello Son,

I'm taking a very big risk leaving this note for you, but I have to. I'm afraid that my fate doesn't leave me any other options. If you're reading this, then that means that it made it to its final destination. Thank God for that!

I wish that I could have known you. I went to the school that you are about to go to. It's a very wonderful place. You will learn a great many things there. I wish that I could go back and do it all again, especially with what I know now. The only advice about the school that I can give you, which will make any sense, is listen to your teachers, even the ones you don't like. Pay very close attention to what they say.

I have left for you a legacy. I can't tell you anything more about it here. If all went well, no one knows the location except for me, and now you. Go to the mountain called Mystery, south of Albuquerque. There is a large stone there with the Ten Commandments carved on its face. This marks the path to the top of the mountain. On the top of the mountain you will find an altar and a stone with a star carved in it. Touch the points of the star with your fingers and the altar will open. Only you can do this.

I'm sorry that I can't tell you anymore, but you will discover the meaning of what you find there. Oh, I wish ever so much that I could accompany you on this quest.

May God guide and keep you,

Joseph Young

Steve sat a large platter of French toast on the table, drawing everyone away from their own thoughts. Steve had been waiting for this. It was the first sign indicating what he was supposed to do. The hooded figure had been right.

"I guess that settles it. I had planned to ask, at breakfast this morning, where you guys would like to go for a vacation. It seems to me that Albuquerque is the place that we need to go. I'll go ahead and schedule my leave so that we all can go there."

Shirley looked flabbergasted. "Honey, how can you be so sure? Don't you even want to have this translated?"

"Sweetheart, we've already had this conversation."

"I know; I just want some assurance, something more tangible."

"This sounds trite, but it's still true. The proof is in the pudding. If it's meant to be, then it's meant to be. If it's not, well, then we'll know for sure soon enough."

Mark's thoughts turned inward. He tuned out the conversation while he considered what was happening.

What does all this mean?

Have I really been chosen for some special destiny?

Why can I read the message and no one else can?

There was other strange stuff too. Things that he just couldn't put his finger on. Deep inside of him something told him that all of this stuff was true. He knew somehow that he was a part of something very much bigger, only he didn't know what. His attention came back to the here and now just as his father finished asking the blessing.

* * *

Steve scheduled his leave time for mid-August. That would put them in Albuquerque during the hottest time of the summer. That couldn't be helped. It was the only time that he had available to schedule his leave.

The days of summer passed without any more unusual occurrences. There were no more strange dreams or unknown writings that Mark could read. Everything seemed like it was back to normal.

The middle of August rolled around and the family loaded up the car for the trip to Albuquerque. Steve hated driving through the large cities. It seemed that he always managed to hit them at rush hour. Nothing seemed more frustrating than the bumper-to-bumper traffic, cars edging in front of you at the slightest opportunity, vying for nothing more than one more space ahead. Steve considered it the flow of humanity and the ebb of intelligence. To top it off, there were two days of two adolescent boys imprisoned in the back seat.

The Young family arrived at the hotel in Albuquerque on schedule to start their mission. Dinner and finding directions to this Mystery Mountain were the next order of business. Then, the next day, they could take in some sights and head out to the mountain. The hotel was one of those large-chain, undistinguished, two story brick buildings with a swimming pool and most importantly, low rates. Steve asked the clerk behind the desk, "Do you happen to know where Mystery Mountain is?"

"It's a mystery to me."

The restaurant was across the four-lane highway. It was one of those buffet chains, all you care to eat for one low price. Four times one low price wasn't all that low, yet it wasn't that expensive either. Trying to make ends meet on a military salary was difficult at best. Savings were hard come by and well earned.

At dinner that night Steve asked the waitress, "Do you happen to know where Mystery Mountain is?"

"Sure don't."

He got the same results at breakfast.

Shirley said, "It doesn't seem like this Mystery Mountain exists."

"It's probably just not well known," Mark said.

"Maybe they don't call it Mystery Mountain anymore," Steve said.

When the waitress returned with their breakfast, Steve asked, "Is there a mountain around here with a stone at the bottom with The Ten Commandments carved on it?"

"Sorry, I've never heard of such a thing."

"Thanks, anyway."

Mark commented, "Let's look at the library. They have to know."

After breakfast, they went to the library. It was a sprawling complex of white cement and glass, one story tall. Trees shaded park benches that lined the stone walk leading to the front door.

The inside was a welcome relief from the heat that was building up outside. A semi-circular counter guarded the door attended by an older looking lady with salt and pepper hair busying herself in its confines.

Mark said to the librarian, "Good morning. Do you know anything about a stone at the bottom of a mountain with the Ten Commandments carved on it?"

The librarian smiled. "Do you mean the Decalogue Stone at Hidden Mountain?"

"I don't know. Can you tell me a little more about it?"

"Sure can, hon. It's in Los Lunas. That's a few miles south of here just off Interstate 85. Some say it dates back to one hundred and seven years B.C. It's supposed to be written in a combination of ancient languages like Hebrew and Greek and such."

"That sounds like it. Can you tell me how to get to it?"

"Well, hon, there aren't any roads there. It's out in Indian country. Excuse me, I'm sorry. I meant to say it's out in Native American country. You could take Route 6, park and hike in, or you could hire a helicopter." She looked at Steve. "Best bet is to hire a helicopter, if you ask me."

Mark said, "Thank you, ma'am."

The group turned and started to walk back out. The Librarian called as an afterthought struck her. "Mister, if you're going to hike in, then you had best get a guide. And if you look for a guide in Los Lunas, they don't call the place Hidden Mountain. They call it Mystery Mountain. They won't know what you're talking about if you call it Hidden Mountain. Although, Hidden Mountain is its proper name."

Steve said, "Thanks again, ma'am. You've been real helpful."

"You're welcome, mister. Anytime." The Librarian watched as they left.

Out in the parking lot Steve queried, "Walk or Fly?"

The answer was unanimous. "Fly."

"Well then, plot a course to the airport and let's go."

The general aviation and charter service area of the airport was not hard to find. Steve drove up to the building that had helicopters on the ground. They had several ranging from a really old Bell "bubble" to a more modern Bell Jet Ranger. The Bell Jet Ranger had the markings of a medical air transport.

Mark and James got out of the car and walked over to the helicopters. They had never been this close to one before. They wanted to examine every aspect of the amazing machines.

Mark came back to his dad. "Do we really get to fly in one of these?"

"Well, let's go inside and find out."

Inside Steve called, "Hello... anyone here?" He waited a moment and a short man came into the office wiping his hands on a rag.

"Hi. What can I do for you?"

"How much do you charge to fly four people out to Hidden Mountain?"

"Four folks... oh, about a hundred dollars. When do you want to go?"

Steve thought that the price was a little steep until he thought about it. Four people plus a pilot would take a larger helicopter. Helicopters were expensive to fly and to maintain. He said, "We could go now, if that's okay."

The short fellow looked quizzically at Steve. "Can't do it for at least three days. Low altitude flying in that area is restricted for the Balloon Fest. Balloons from all over the world, you know. Near about a thousand of 'em, I reckon."

Steve raised his eyebrows. "Bet that is a sight to see."

"Yep. All different kinds. Why, last year there was even one that looked like Jesus. There were all kinds of animals too. One guy even had one shaped like an old tennis shoe." The short fellow chuckled as he spoke.

"Well, thanks anyway." Steve turned to leave.

"You don't need to fly in. Take Route 6 down by Los Lunas. You can see it from there. It's the closest one and it's all by itself. You could walk to it if you had a mind to."

"Thanks. I'll check it out."

"Anytime." The short fellow turned and walked back into the hangar.

When Steve got back to the car, Shirley asked, "What did you find out?"

Steve started the engine after everyone got back in. He said, "No one can fly out there for three days. There is a big balloon fest going on. It's supposed to be a sight to see. He said that we could see the mountain from Route 6 down by Los Lunas; that we could walk to it."

"I don't know, hon. It's pretty hot out there."

Steve backed out of the parking space. "Well, let's go have a look-see after lunch."

* * *

Route 6 wasn't hard to find. "The guy at the airport didn't say which way to turn. Which way do you want to try first?" They were approaching the intersection.

Shirley said, "There's a gas station. We can ask over there."

Steve pulled into the gas station and parked. He got out and walked toward the service bays. He heard from behind him, "Can I help you?" Steve turned and saw a young man.

Steve smiled. "I'm looking for Hidden Mountain."

"I don't know that one." The young man tilted his head as if thinking about it.

Steve remembered what the librarian had said. "You might know it as Mystery Mountain."

"Si, Mystery Mountain. You want to go there?" The young man smiled back at Steve.

"Yeah. Do you know where it is?" Steve used both hands to point along the two directions on Route 6.

"Si. You going to walk? It's too hot for that."

"I just wanted to see it first."

The young man pointed west down Route 6. "You go that way for a little bit. You will see it. Then you come back and rent ATV's. Fifty dollars a day for two plus gas. It's a good deal, no? Go. You will see."

Steve scratched his head. "Thank you." He turned and walked back to the car.

Shirley said, "I caught most of that. ATV's beat walking."

Steve glanced at her. "Let's go have a look first. Then we'll know what's involved." He headed west on Route 6. "He didn't say which side of the road it's on. I guess that it will be obvious."

After a few minutes James exclaimed, "Check it out! Look at all of them."

Shirley and Mark turned and looked out of the passenger side windows.

"Dad! Pull over! You have got to see this!" Mark was straining against the seat belt to look out the passenger window over James.

Steve pulled the car over to the shoulder and got out. He looked to the right and there they were. The sky was filled with hot air balloons as far as the eye could see. He walked over to the passenger side of the car and hopped up onto the hood. He agreed with the boys. This was definitely a sight to see. Everyone else climbed out of the car and claimed a perch to watch the spectacle.

The guy at the airport was right. There was a Snoopy®, an outhouse, a flying saucer and all kinds of balloons. He even saw the tennis shoe balloon. There were countless of the regular style balloons too, every one of them in bright, eye catching colors.

After about ten minutes or so, Mark said, "I know why they call it Hidden Mountain. Look at the shadows of the balloons way over there."

Steve squinted and watched. Sure enough, every shadow that passed beyond a certain point in the distance disappeared only to reappear a minute or so later. Steve looked harder. It was hard to make out against the background of distant mountains, but it was there. It had to be more than just a couple of miles away, unless it was very small. The terrain was too rocky and broken to drive the car on. An ATV would be just the ticket.

Mark stared at the mountain. Hidden Mountain... this is where it really begins.

Steve said, "It's too late to go back and get ATV's now. We can do that tomorrow."

* * *

Bright and early the next morning Steve drove the family back to the gas station. The same young man greeted him. "Buenos dias, señor. You come back to rent ATV's, si?"

"Yes, and extra fuel." Steve made the arrangements. He even opted for a small trailer with a quick hitch to carry the two ATV's. After a short while, they were on their way with the trailer in tow.

They reached a spot that he thought was safe. Steve pulled off the road as far as he dared. It was enough to keep the car out of harm's way while they were gone. He loaded some snacks, a flashlight, a rope coil and military knife into the under seat compartment of one of the ATV's. The cooler with the drinks was strapped to the back of the other one.

"Mark, you and James ride on this one. Your mom and I will ride on the other one. Take it easy and be careful. Don't lose sight of us."

A half hour of grimy dust and teeth jarring bumps paved the way to the mountain. Sweat collected the dust and held it, forming thin layers of muck on everyone's necks and faces.

The mountain was a very old, extinct volcano. From the ground, the top looked fairly flat. Brush had grown up around the base. Finding the stone was going to take some doing.

Hours passed, and the stone remained hidden. Mark decided that it was time for lunch and wanted to head for the shady side of the mountain, what little shade was left. Noon was fast approaching.

His parents were a little ways out, looking for some feature, some clue to where the stone might be. He drove toward them and motioned for them to follow and they did.

Two packs of sandwich crackers and one soda later, Mark lay back with his head propped against the wheel of the ATV. He looked up the side of the mountain, squinting, trying to discern anything that might be a path or a road. There wasn't anything there to be seen as far as he could tell.

The sun crested the top of the mountain and there it was. The path, curving back and forth on itself, formed an almost straight shadow down the side of the mountain, disappearing behind the brush dead ahead.

Mark sat up and pointed. "There it is!"

Steve led the family through the brush and a little ways up the base of the mountain. The Decalogue Stone was right where it was supposed to be at the bottom of the path.

Over the many years it had settled sideways, skewed and eroded by time. It marked the entrance to the only footpath that led up the side of the mountain to the top.

It was rocky and slow going, but everyone made it to the top without incident. The view was breathtaking. Mark could see the road miles away. Every now and then a tiny dot moved along its surface. The top wasn't really flat as it had appeared from the ground; it was kind of bowl shaped.

Mark and James started to explore. It didn't take them long to find the rock that must have been the altar. It was on the highest point on the edge of the bowl, right where you might expect it to be. Steve and Shirley walked over to where the boys were.

"I can't find a star anywhere." Mark had remembered what the note in the Bible had said. He was to place one finger on each point of the star, the altar would slide back to reveal his legacy, only there was no star to be found.

Mark looked around. "Maybe it's not on the altar. Maybe this isn't the altar. It's probably somewhere else. I noticed that there are some carvings of different things all over the place. Keep looking."

Steve said to Shirley, "Well, everything that we have seen so far has been accurate. There has to be a star here somewhere."

Shirley forced a smile. "You're probably right."

The boys went off to investigate some more. Steve looked around. He couldn't help thinking that this mountaintop was an excellent defensive position. There was only one way up. You could see everything for miles around. There were even depressions scattered around. They could have been primeval foxholes. He looked over the side. It looked to him as if some ancient army had built a stone battlement around the top perimeter of the mountain. That's when he saw them. The boys had discovered a large stone with all kinds of carvings on it. He climbed over and down for a closer look. Sure enough, there was a large star on the end of it. There were pictures of other things on it too. It looked like a scorpion, an elk, and other animals. He climbed back up to tell Shirley.

Steve pointed over the side. "I think that is what we're looking for. The boys have found it."

A few moments later, Steve and Shirley were startled when the altar stone slid open. Beneath it was a narrow, steep incline leading into the blackness below.

Steve yelled to the boys, "That's it! Come back up and have a look!"

"Whoa! Check it out." Mark shouted when he saw the cavern. "Let's go in."

Mark made a break for the hole. Steve grabbed him by the collar. "Don't you think that we're going to need a flashlight?"

"Yeah! I'll go get it." Mark was held back by his father's grip on his collar. "I just want to see it closer."

Steve released his collar.

"You and James rest for a minute. Then you can go and get the flashlight and the knife and the rope... after you rest. That incline looks pretty steep. We need to be careful." Steve was anxious to explore too, but he knew that it was best to be prepared.

Mark lay on his belly with his face in the hole. "Hello..."

The first echo returned, sharp and distinct, followed by fading hellos. "Hello... Hello... Hello... Hello."

About fifteen minutes passed. "All right boys, go get the stuff, and be careful on that path. You can't explore much with a broken leg."

It wasn't long before the boys had returned with the things they needed.

Steve tied one end of the rope to the altar stone. He tossed the rest of the coil down the incline. "I'll go in first. You boys follow me, one at a time, when I say it's okay. Take your time and do it nice and easy. We don't know what it's like down there, and you won't be able to see much."

Both boys nodded that they understood.

"Honey, don't you think that it would be better if the boys stayed up here? I mean, we don't know what's down there. It could be dangerous."

"Hon, recon is what I do. This is a cinch. You stay up here in case we get into trouble. If we do, then you can go for help."

"You be very careful down there. Don't take any chances."

Mark watched his dad grab the rope, wrap it once around his wrist for better control and then ease onto the sloping path. He carried the flashlight in his free hand, stopping every few feet down and looking around. Lying on his belly, Mark watched his dad descend. It seemed as if there was nothing for his flash light beam to hit. Everything looked black. After about forty feet the slope leveled out.

The coolness escaping from the hole was a refreshing break from the heat topside. His dad was down there, but the light from the flashlight was all that he could see. He heard his dad call back up.

"Okay, just one of you. It's about forty feet down. Take it slow and easy."

Mark went slowly down the rope and once he reached the bottom, Steve gave the okay for James to follow.

Both boys made it down and Steve shined the flashlight around, but there wasn't anything to see except the near wall.

"We can't see much, so we're going to follow the wall around and see what we can find. Follow me and stay close to me and up next to the wall. There could be a pit anywhere and it would be very easy to find it the hard way. Know what I mean?"

Mark said, "Yes sir." There was a touch of excitement in his voice.

Mark took the lead and edged his way around the wall with his dad and brother directly behind. They made their way around the perimeter of the cavern. The wall was glassy and featureless just like the floor. They stopped every few feet to examine the path ahead. He estimated that they had gone over a thousand feet and had found nothing. He looked at his dad's watch and saw that it was getting close to 2 o'clock.

He looked back at the way that they had come. It looked like they had gone less than an eighth of the way around the wall based on what he could see from the light coming from the entrance. That, too, was based on the assumption that the cavern was essentially round. His eyes had grown somewhat more accustomed to the dark and he could see further than he could when they had first entered. They hadn't gone more than ten more feet when he noticed the increased light. He looked back at the opening.

"Look at the opening. It's getting brighter."

Steve and James turned to look. The entrance was indeed getting brighter. The sun must have been getting high enough to shine directly into the opening. The entrance kept getting brighter and brighter until all at once sunlight started reflecting off every surface in the cavern. It was dim, but they could see pretty well and there it was, a column, not a hundred feet straight out from the entrance. There was something gleaming beside it.

Steve said, "Okay, let's go. Remember, stay alert."

Mark took the lead, heading back almost the way they had come. He was careful to keep a sharp eye out for hidden dangers.

The group made it to the column. There, on its side hung a short shepherd's crook. It was decorated, but in the dim light it was hard to tell how. There was also a leather pouch hanging from a leather strap. Mark scanned the cavern again, thinking that there might be something else. There wasn't anything else that he could see.

Mark said, "Let's get back to the entrance before we lose the light." The light was fading rapidly and they had what they had come for.

Everyone made it back up to the top all right. Mark carried the pouch over his shoulder and the staff slid neatly into the back of his belt, poking up over his back.

The staff was about four or five feet long. It was bent into a hook shape at one end. Its surface had been polished to a glossy sheen. It had inlaid blue and gold decorations all over it. It was simply a beautiful piece of craftsmanship.

The pouch was leather and simple, something like a pony express rider might have carried.

Mark opened the pouch. Inside was something wrapped in a brownish-orange tinted, waxy paper. He removed the paper and carefully unfolded it. He found three documents. The first document was a will of sorts. It read:

Young Mister Young, fourth generation great grandson, you will find here a deed and a lease. You, being my descendant, are its rightful heir. The deed is to a piece of property that you now own. The lease is for the family that has acted as keepers of this property. Show them the staff and they will know that you are the rightful heir.

The lease was a simple document allowing the Newsom family to use the property and to harvest the timber until the rightful owner, with the staff, came to claim it. The lease was to be kept in the Newsom family and passed down from generation to generation.

The deed was for a parcel of land in Halifax County, Virginia. It said that it was about six hundred and sixty acres, more or less.

Mark sat down on the ground. The rest of the family looked over the papers. When they had finished reading, Mark looked at his dad and said, "Virginia?"

"That's what the deed says. You guys want to go and have a look at it? We still have another few days left before I have to be back on base." Steve felt dubious about this. After all, it had been more than a hundred years since the deed had been drawn up. The date on the deed was 1888. Surely the property taxes hadn't been paid for all that time. But miracles had been happening with the things surrounding the events that were unfolding. The thing that stuck in his mind was the altar stone sliding away.

"Mark, go touch that star again. See if the altar closes."

Mark and James went back over the side again. A few seconds later the stone slid back over the opening. It looked as if the stone had never been moved.

Just then, a shadow crossed over Steve and Shirley. They looked up. The balloons were back again. This time they had a much better view. The tennis shoe balloon passed close to the mountaintop. A bearded fellow was leaning over the basket, waving at them. They all waved back.

Mark watched the man in the balloon float off toward the distance. He knew that there was something very significant about the man in the balloon. He felt it deep inside, like the feeling you get when you do something and just know beyond all doubt that it is incredibly right.

There was something else tugging at his mind too, What's next?

### Chapter 4

# Four Greats

_The past is the seed of fate_ **.**

Mark examined the staff in the late afternoon light that filtered through the hotel window. The blue decorations seemed to be some sort of writing. They spiraled around the staff like a thin blue ribbon. He had the feeling that the writing was very old. There were gold colored decorations of thin bands and small circles. The gold bands were about eight inches apart. They divided the blue decorations and the staff into sections. The small gold circles were on opposite sides of each other as if a pin might cross through the wood, one each above and below every band. They formed a straight line on either side of the staff. The wood of the staff was light, yellowish colored, and shiny like it had been polished with something. Mark couldn't detect any wax or lacquer or anything like that. It looked like the wood itself had been polished to a high sheen.

Mark was lying on the bed, examining the staff, when the bathing trunks that James threw hit him in the head. James said, "Suit up! Let's go to the pool."

Startled, Mark jumped. He looked at James and grinned. He laid the staff on the bed and went to the bathroom to change.

Steve and Shirley had been planning the trip to Virginia. They set the maps aside and walked to the pool with the boys. The pool, surrounded by a high chain link fence with privacy slats inserted in the links, was bustling with activity. They found one unoccupied table near the shallow end of the pool. Mark and James went straight to the diving board.

Mr. and Mrs. Young sat at the cheap, glass-topped table, in plastic patio chairs, relaxing in the late afternoon sun while the boys played in the pool. Steve nudged Shirley and pointed toward the deep end of the pool.

"See that man sitting down there. Every now and then he will toss a coin in the deep end when he thinks no one is looking. He smiles when a kid finds the treasure."

Shirley looked at the man. He was probably in his late thirties or early forties. His hair was dark and full, streaked with silver. His pot-belly partially obscured his bright red bathing suit. Even at twenty yards away, his eyes looked bright and inviting.

"Why do you think he's doing it?"

"I don't know. He can't mean any harm. I think that must be his wife sitting with him."

The lady with him was slender and her dark blond hair showed no signs of gray. She watched casually as the kids went diving for the treasure.

"Just the same, I'm keeping an eye on him. You never know these days."

About an hour later the sun was beginning to set. A young girl, of about fifteen or so, got out of the pool. Her hip-length black hair clung to her back like a bit of wet rope. She walked over to the table where the man was, (who had been tossing the coins), picked up a towel and dried her face. The couple got up and followed her. They passed the table where Steve and Shirley were.

The man paused. "They were game tokens. Your boys can use them in the arcade. I'm leaving tomorrow and can't use them. I figured I might as well give them to someone who can." Steve nodded his understanding and the man resumed his pace, following his wife.

Steve thought to himself, That man has a good heart. I wish there were more people in the world like him.

His thoughts turned to Virginia. Virginia promised the answers to the mystery that had been dropped into their laps. Why had his great, great, great grandfather left land that could be worth well over a million dollars? Why had he done it in such a mysterious and unconventional way? Was the deed even valid? Could Mark even legally take possession of it? He's only twelve years old.

James and Mark collected a small fortune in game tokens, so many bulging in their pockets that it was hard to swim. After drying off, they went straight to the arcade, anticipating an evening full of competition. Billiards, air hockey, foosball and video games banished any thoughts of hunger.

James won most of the games, which was okay with Mark. Mark's mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of what it all meant, which way his life was going and what was coming next. The altar stone sliding open and closed, revealing a hidden treasure was like something right out of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, Open sesame. He still didn't understand why he could read the note in the Bible and no one else could. How does it all fit together? What is this school that I'm supposed to go to? I don't even know where it is. Maybe Virginia will hold some more clues.

* * *

It took two days to get to Virginia. The drive had been an exercise in mind numbing tedium. Playing games with James got old quick. The periodic pit stops weren't much help either. The only thing that made the trip bearable was the expected promise of answers.

It didn't make sense to Mark that there was any possibility that the deed was valid. It has been more than a hundred years since the deed was drawn up. Surely it has to be like my dad said; the government wouldn't let it go that long without the property taxes being paid.

He knew that his dad had to take the old deed to the county court house and inquire about it. His dad would have to do it because a little kid was just that, a little kid and wouldn't be taken seriously in a decidedly grownup's only courthouse. That would have to wait until tomorrow. It was too late for the courthouse to be open now, but his dad wanted to find out where the courthouse was and to get a room at a hotel that was nearby. That would make things easier.

The deed said that the property was located in Halifax County. The county courthouse was located in the tiny town of Halifax. The town had two traffic lights and two gas stations on its single street. The courthouse was at the intersection where the second traffic light was. There were people working in the flowerbeds around the courthouse building.

Steve parked the car in the small parking lot next to the court building. He turned to Shirley and said, "I didn't see a hotel near here. Would you mind asking one of those ladies over there, where one is?" Steve pointed to the ladies working in the flowerbeds.

Shirley got out of the car and walked toward the nearest lady.

"Hi there."

The lady in the flowerbed stood up and turned to face Shirley. "Hello... can I help you?"

"Do you work here?"

"Goodness no." She gestured with her hand indicating the other people. "We're Master Gardeners. We're doing some volunteer work. My name is Donna."

Shirley smiled and extended her hand. "My name is Shirley." She felt like she had seen this lady before, but just couldn't place her. The straw hat that she was wearing didn't help.

Mark was looking out of the car window. He recognized her, he thought, but he didn't want to say anything, because it seemed like too much of a coincidence. Mark's inner voice told him that this was the right place to be.

Donna extended her hand a little and looked at it. It was covered with dirt.

Shirley smiled and withdrew her hand. "I was wondering if you could tell me if there is a hotel nearby?"

Donna pointed back the way that they had come. "I don't think that there are any in Halifax. The closest one, I believe, is in South Boston, down that way."

Shirley knew where South Boston was. They had just driven through it. She said, "Thank you," and smiled again.

Donna smiled back. "You're welcome."

Shirley returned to the car. "That was Donna. She says that the nearest hotel is back in South Boston." She pointed back the way that they had just come.

Mark's dad drove back to South Boston. He found a hotel and made arrangements for a room. Once settled in, Mark could only wonder what tomorrow would hold.

The next morning, Steve went to the courthouse and returned carrying the maps and information that he obtained.

"The deed is good. It looks like you're a millionaire, almost two million, that is. The taxes are all paid up, too."

"Two million? The taxes are paid? Who paid the taxes?"

Steve held out a copy of the assessment information for Mark to see. "The card that I got from the assessor's office says that the property is worth one point nine eight million and the taxes have been paid from an account at Chase Manhattan Bank."

Mark took the paper and examined it.

James bounced on his toes. "Wow! That means we're millionaires."

Shirley looked at James and then at Steve. "That sounds too good to be true. What's the catch?"

"No catch that I've found so far. The clerk at the court says that note passes as a will; the deed is valid. All we need to do is have them recorded in Mark's name. Any lawyer can handle that."

It still hadn't settled into Mark that he was a millionaire, at least on paper anyway. He didn't feel any different. There hadn't been any parade or news blurb or anything like that. His dad had just come back to the hotel room and said, "You're a millionaire." It felt pretend, almost. It can't be real, can it? If it is real, why me?

"The information only lists an account number. It doesn't give any other information about the account. I'll call and ask about it later. In the meantime, let's go look at the property."

Shirley navigated from the county map that he had gotten from the courthouse and the family drove out to the property. It took about a half hour to get there. It was way out in the boonies. Nothing but farms everywhere. Even the last little town that they passed through was nothing more than a stop sign and a few buildings. When they got to the spot that had been circled on the map, they saw that the property was thick with trees and underbrush. It would be tough going if they wanted to explore it now.

Mark looked for markers or anything to indicate where the property was, but he didn't see any. He wasn't sure that they were at the right place. "Dad, how much is six hundred and sixty acres?"

"If I remember right, it's about one square mile."

Mark looked up and down the road. Wow!

Steve examined the plat diagram showing all of the surrounding farms. "Newsom is the family name that holds the lease to the property. The plat map shows that they are the next farm over. Let's go and see what we can find out."

They drove to the next farm. It looked like it had a lot of pastureland. It was surrounded by a white wooden rail fence. Mark couldn't see any horses or cattle or anything like you might expect on a farm of this kind. The farmhouse sat back about a quarter of a mile off the road on the top of a hill. There was a gravel driveway leading up to the house. Mark's dad eased the car up the driveway to the house and stopped.

"Mark, grab that staff and let's go knock on the door." Steve hit the button to open the trunk.

The family walked up to the door with Mark carrying the staff. The old two-story farmhouse had been resided with white vinyl. It retained the charming, old look of classic wooden shotgun houses with an addition on the back. All of the old southern houses were built the same way. They got their name because, according to the old timers, you could stand at the front door and fire a shot gun clean through the open back door and hit nothing but air.

There was no doorbell, so Steve knocked on the door. After a short wait, the door opened.

The lady was wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "Hello, can I help you?" Her eyes were obviously looking at the staff that Mark was carrying.

"Mrs. Newsom I presume. My name is Steve Young. This is my wife Shirley and our two boys, Mark and James. Can we speak with you or your husband?"

"Yes, I know why you're here." The lady turned and called back into the house. "Curtis, they're here."

Shirley leaned into Steve and whispered, "That's the lady that I talked to at the courthouse."

The lady had evidently heard Shirley. "Did you find a hotel all right?"

Shirley smiled and blushed slightly. "Yes ma'am, we did. Thank you, again."

The man came to the door. Steve recognized him immediately. It was the man who had been tossing the game tokens into the pool in Albuquerque.

Mr. Newsom's eyes fixed on the staff. He paused for a moment before saying, "So you're the one. I thought there was something special about you when I saw you in the pool. After the dream I had, I was sure." He smiled at Mark. "Did you get a chance to use any of those game tokens?"

"Yes sir. Some. We had to leave early the next morning." Mark bowed his head after he spoke.

"We did too. Only we flew." Mr. Newsom shifted his attention to Steve. "You folks come on in. No use standing around on the porch like a stray dog."

Mr. and Mrs. Newsom backed away from the door and allowed the Young family to enter. Mark started to lean the staff up against the house. Mr. Newsom said, "Bring that stick on in. From what I hear tell, it's kind of important. Come on in and pick a spot to sit."

Once everyone was seated, Mr. Newsom said, looking at Mark "I know why you're here. Only I didn't expect it to happen in my lifetime, well, not until I started having those dreams. That property next door has been good to us over the years. If it hadn't been for the timber on that property, well, we would have lost everything. Not me of course, but my great grandfather. It sure came in handy during the depression. What do you reckon you're going to do with that property?"

Steve started, "I don't know yet. We just found the deed a few days ago. That's why we were in Albuquerque. We're still checking things out. We don't know much about it. That's why we came here. The papers that we found said that your family was supposed to have been taking care of it for more than a hundred years now."

Mr. Newsom looked at Steve quizzically and paused. "Well, I don't know about taking care of it. Your granddaddy back before the turn of the century made a deal with my granddaddy. As I understand it, the deal was that he and his descendants were to keep squatters from claiming it until a young man with his staff came to claim it. Well, like you said, it's been more than a hundred years now. I used to think that it would never happen."

Mr. Newsom stood up and went over to a picture frame hanging on the wall. He took it down and walked over to Mark. "Sure looks like the same staff to me. That's your granddaddy there." He handed the picture to Mark.

Mark took the picture and examined it. The rest of the family leaned over to look, too. Mark handed the picture to his mother. After looking a little longer at it, she handed it back to Mr. Newsom.

Mr. Newsom took the picture and opened up the back of the frame. "Strange thing about us being in Albuquerque, too. I haven't been on any other vacation in my life. I have always wanted to go to Florida though, but I never did. Couple of months ago, I started having this dream. It was so real. I was in Albuquerque watching the balloons. I kept having the dream. I figured that I was meant to go. So I did." He removed the paper in the back of the frame and handed it to Mark.

Mark saw that it was a copy of the lease. "We have a copy of this, too. It was with the deed." Mark handed the copy of the lease to his father.

Mr. Newsom said, "Hold on a minute, son. That's yours, not your dad's or anybody else's."

Mark was taken aback a little bit by Mr. Newsome's abruptness. "I know. It just doesn't seem real."

"You're the one with the staff. It was part of your destiny to find that. In Albuquerque I had a dream about you. You're the one, not your dad, not your mom, not your brother. You." Mr. Newsom squatted to come eye to eye with Mark.

"That was some storm. That horse was trying to kill you by killing your mother. And, I have it on good authority that the best people are born in stables."

Shirley gasped. "How could you know that?"

Mark knew that Mr. Newsom was right.

Mr. Newsome stood and faced Shirley. "You might think that all of this is a load of hooey. Coincidence piled high, like hay. But, I'm going to tell you what's the truth. What you might call supernatural is very real. Powerful, dark forces are at work. They don't want him to have that staff. They can't take it directly, but they'll try anything and everything to get him to give it up. Best keep your guard up."

Mr. Newsome turned back to Mark. "I have to ask you something about the property. I already have a letter of intent signed to have the timber harvested this fall. Do you want me to cancel the deal or is it okay for me to harvest the timber?"

Mark turned to his dad and asked, "What do you think?"

Steve thought for a moment and said, "You have to make that decision, son."

"I know, Dad. I just want to know what you think."

"Well, Mr. Newsom has kept his end of the deal."

"You can harvest the timber, Mr. Newsom. Out of curiosity, how much to you think that you'll make?"

Steve said, "That's not a proper thing to ask, son."

"That's okay, Mr. Young. There is some pretty timber in there. A lot of clear oak, really big pine and not much trash wood. I would guess upwards of six hundred and fifty thousand. Maybe more, maybe less."

Mark's mouth dropped open in amazement. He thought for a moment before asking, "Would it be too much to ask you to have a spot cleared for a house?"

"Not at all. I'll just put that in the finalized contract with the timber company. They will already have the machines here that can do that." Mr. Newsom was smiling. "I'll pick out a nice spot."

Steve interrupted, "Mark, don't you think that is a bit much to ask?"

Mr. Newsom responded, "Not at all. It's basically free work. The timber company really wants this timber. They'll make a pretty penny on that oak. It's the kind that they export to Japan. They will agree to just about anything within reason to get it. Clearing an acre or so of stumps is nothing to them. It won't take them more than an hour or two to do it with all the machines that they have."

Steve looked at Mr. Newsom. "It sounds like you have had experience at this."

"Not me personally. I hired a professional forester to cruise the timber and give me a report. That's what he says. He should know; that's what he does for a living. He even told me about the different timber companies that are working in this area now. I'm going with the one that chips up all of the debris. That means that I get a few more dollars and there is not much, if any, trash to get rid of." Mr. Newsom grinned.

"Another benefit you get is that the timber company surveys the property. They have to. It's a really big fine if they cut even one tree on an adjacent piece of property. They go to great pains to make sure that they don't do that while being able to harvest as much timber as they can."

"It sounds like you've been planning this for some time." Steve noticed that Mark was listening intently.

"Not really. It's just that beef prices are down right now. Frankly, we need the money. Just wish that there was some way for me to keep Uncle Sam out of my pockets." That was the first time that Steve had seen Mr. Newsom frown.

"You've been a big help, Mr. Newsom. I think that we have intruded on your hospitality long enough now."

Steve shouldn't have been surprised by the Newsom's hospitality, but he was. Living in the city and on base all of his life had tainted his opinion of how people acted toward one another. He was still feeling awkward at being in a complete stranger's home.

"Not at all. You folks are welcome to stay the night. We have two guest rooms." Steve stood up and Mr. Newsom smiled.

Shirley and the boys stood up with Steve. Steve explained, "We still have a lot of stuff back at the hotel. We also have some more loose ends to tie up." Steve was thinking about that account that had kept the property taxes paid up for the last century. That was a very unusual thing. He wanted to check into it.

The family left and drove back to the hotel. It was too late to call the bank. That would have to wait until morning.

* * *

The next morning came. Steve made the call after he obtained a toll free number from the operator. After a long wait and a series of transfers, he was able to talk to someone, a Mrs. Jenkins, who had access to the information about the account.

"I'm sorry, sir. I can't discuss the account over the phone. You need to appear in person. The note in the file says that you need to bring your staff. How large of a conference room will you need?"

"A small room will do. I can't make it today. I'm in Virginia right now."

"Please call me back at least a day in advance to schedule an appointment. You'll need to talk with me, personally, to do that."

"Thank you. I'll do that."

Steve didn't have enough time left on his approved leave to make it to New York and back. He was due back on base in two days. He decided to call his commanding officer and get an extension on his leave. Then he called and booked a hotel room on the outskirts of New York City. He called Mrs. Jenkins back at the bank and made an appointment for 2 p.m. on Monday. That would give them some time to see some of the sights over the weekend.

Mark stopped trying to figure things out. Now, he was just going with the flow and watching as things happened. So far, every clue had led to a prize and another clue. I wonder if we'll find another clue at the bank.

* * *

That Monday, shortly before 2 p.m., Steve and his family walked into Mrs. Jenkins' office.

"Hello, I'm Steve Young. I talked with you on Friday, about an unusual account."

The middle-aged lady looked at him over the top of her half moon glasses. She was every bit of what you would expect an executive at a big bank to be. After a moment's pause she said, "Have a seat in the outer office, Mr. Young. I need to make a couple of calls. I'll be right with you."

Mark and his family had barely sat down when Mrs. Jenkins emerged from her office. "Come with me, please."

She led the way down the hall and they followed. She opened one of the very large, ornate, mahogany, double doors at the end of the hall and waited for Steve and his family to enter.

They entered a very large conference room and were overwhelmed by the splendor of it. A large mahogany table spanned the length of the room. There were chairs along the walls as well as at every spot around the table. The ceiling had to be twenty feet high. The room was decorated in old Victorian style.

Steve heard a voice from the far end of the table. "Mr. Young, you and your staff can have a seat down here." The voice had evidently come from one of the three men in dark suits at the end of the table.

The Young family walked to the end of the table and sat down. The three men each extended their hands toward Steve. Steve shook their hands with a puzzled look on his face.

One of the men said, "By your expression, I can see that you are as curious about this account as we are."

Steve nodded. "Yes, I thought it unusual that an account would be set up to pay the property taxes on a piece of property for more than a hundred years."

The man in the middle of the three men spoke. "That's not all it did. The account was set up to pay the taxes on six pieces of property. That was until the rightful heirs came forward to claim them. This is the sixth and last. It seems that your great, great, great, great, that's four greats isn't it, grandfather was quite a far-sighted man."

Steve broke in. "He was my great, great, great grandfather. Three greats. I think you want my son, Mark." He pointed at Mark.

The men looked surprised. They whispered to each other. The man in the middle asked, "Is Mark your firstborn?"

Steve nodded. "James is my oldest but he's adopted. Mark is my firstborn." Steve pointed to each of the boys in turn.

The man in the middle leaned toward Mark. "Mark, you come and have a seat up here."

Mark stood up and leaned the staff against the wall before sitting next to the three men.

The three men conferred again. The middle man said, "I think that we should see some identification."

Steve stood up and removed his driver's license and military identification from his wallet. He laid them on the table in front of the three men. The one in the middle looked at them. "Was Mark born in North Carolina?"

Steve nodded again. "Yes."

The man in the middle picked up the handset to a telephone that was hidden from view. "Mrs. Jenkins, would you call The North Carolina Bureau of Vital Statistics and verify that Mark Young is the first born of Mr. and Mrs. Young?" He turned to Steve and said, "We just have to be sure."

Mrs. Jenkins came into the conference room. She jotted down the answers to a few questions she asked about Mark's birth and left the room.

"We can continue with the preliminaries while we wait for her to check on that." The man in the middle opened a file and laid it on the table. "It's interesting how we came by this account. As you may or may not know, Chase Manhattan Bank bought out a lot of small banks back in the early part of the nineteen hundreds. One of the banks that we acquired had this unusual account. As we are bound by contract and by law to honor all of the accounts that we acquired, we had to honor this one. It was set up to pay the property taxes on six parcels of land in various places in this country, the United States. Once a piece of property was claimed by its assigned heir, according to birth order, that piece was to be removed from the list. The rightful heir was to be identified by authenticating a certain set of artifacts obtained by that heir. The sixth and final heir will receive custody of the account. The last heir is the first born of the first born of the first born of the first born of the first born of the first born of Joseph the Younger, formally the youngest son of Joseph Von Schnill and later known as Joseph Young. And that would be you, Mark Young."

Mark nodded that he understood.

The man in the middle picked up an envelope that was old looking and yellowed. "We will start by verifying your artifact." He opened the sealed envelope and removed two pieces of paper. One was a photograph and the other was a hand written note. He raised his eyebrows and smiled. They realized that the information about bringing the staff had not referred to employees, as he had originally thought. It had referred to the staff that now stood against the wall. "I believe that staff is the artifact that we need to examine. May we examine it?"

Mark retrieved the staff and handed it toward the three men. He kept his hand on it. The man in the middle smiled at Mark.

"Son, I have to examine this staff."

"Yes sir. Can you do it while I hold it?"

"I don't know. Let me see."

The man read the note that had come from the envelope. He pressed the top most small golden circle, then turned the crook on the top of the staff about a quarter of a turn and it slid off into his hand. This revealed a wooden finger that the crook had been seated on. He examined the protruding piece of wood, which had writing on it. He looked at the note and said that the visual inspection looked good.

He read the note again and said, "Can you describe the place where you found this?"

Mark said, "It was inside of the top of a mountain, Mystery Mountain. It was like a big cave that you could only get to from under a big rock on top of the mountain."

"Was anything with it?" The middle man was still looking at the note.

"Yes sir. There was a pocket book kind of like..." Mark paused to think. "Like the kind they used to use in the Pony Express. It had a deed, a lease and a note in it."

The phone buzzed. The middle man answered it. After listening to the phone he said, "Thank you, Mrs. Jenkins."

The middle man stood up. "Mark, it looks like you are the one, the rightful heir. This account is now yours."

Mark grinned. "How much is it?"

The middle man answered, "Well, your four greats grandfather bought some shares of some new companies back in the mid and late eighteen hundreds. Let's see here, Eastman Kodak, Edison General Electric, now General Electric, Westinghouse, Rochester Bank which we bought, and many more. Some of the other companies went under, bankrupt. At the beginning of this month the account was worth, let's see here... five hundred ninety-six-million, six hundred fifty-eight thousand, four hundred twenty-seven dollars and seventeen cents."

### Chapter 5

# The Cadre Begins

_Many search for the magic. Some find it. Few have it thrust upon them_.

The elevator descended. Mark's head was swimming with questions. What does all this mean? Is there more to come? Where is this special school I'm supposed to go to?

The doors slid open and he found himself looking way up into the bluest eyes that he had ever seen. They were the eyes that he had seen in his dreams. A huge grin beamed through the man's immaculate ebony beard. He had his long black hair pulled back into a topknot and his cloak hung like a full-length leather coat. He had the look of someone important.

"I know you. Your name is Tim. You're here to take me to school."

"Yes, indeed, and to let your family know where you have gone." Tim's voice seemed too gentle for a man of his size. "I know that you all have a lot of questions. We can walk while I talk." He gestured to the glass doors that led to the street.

The family assembled on the bustling sidewalk outside of the bank. People, going in both directions, bumped past them on either side, taking no notice of the colossal man wearing a full length, black, hooded robe covering a black tunic trimmed in silver.

Tim began speaking. "All of your questions will be answered in time. Hopefully, what I am about to tell you now will answer most of them. I am sorry that I don't have time for lengthy explanations."

Tim began walking backwards while still facing the family. His bulk cut a swath in the crowd of people like an icebreaker in the arctic.

"Mark has been chosen to go to The Seventh Mountain. That is an academy for Magi. Mark is a Magi just like his great, great, great, great grandfather before him. He has to go."

The family followed in the wake that Tim created. Asking questions seemed somehow inappropriate now, things were moving so fast. Mark listened very carefully for the next clue; the next bit of information that might shed some light on what this was all about or how to get to school.

"He will learn a great many things there. You can visit him during Christmas or he can come home to visit you. You can also come to the flags matches the last Saturday of every school month. The school handles transportation."

There it is; the school handles transportation. Tim probably has a car or something around here.

"You can write, too. Just leave your letter on his pillow, on his bed, at home. He will get it. Just make sure to leave his room as it is now and do not close the curtains."

That information was a bit out of the ordinary and didn't seem odd because everything was happening so rapidly.

"Classes begin on the first of September or the Monday after that if it falls on a weekend. Orientation starts a week before classes begin. That means that Mark is due at orientation today... now."

I'm due at orientation today. I don't even know where the school is. Wait, maybe the school is right here.

Tim, still walking backwards, held out a piece of paper toward Mark. "This is your school enrollment form. Turn it in if you decide you want to stay."

Before Mark could take the paper, Tim turned and was walking forward. That put the paper a little farther out of Mark's reach. Mark jogged a couple of steps to catch up. Just before Mark reached the paper, Tim turned the corner. Mark followed quickly and grabbed the paper. Mark and Tim vanished.

Tim said, "Welcome to The Seventh Mountain."

Mark stopped in his tracks. "Whoa!"

Steve, Shirley and James turned the corner not more than five steps behind Mark and Tim. Mark and Tim were nowhere to be seen. It was as if they had vanished into thin air. There was no place for them to be hiding. They were just gone.

Mark looked around at his surroundings. He was standing on rock-strewn sand. Straight in front of him was a mountain. Stone walls made it look like a multi-terraced cake. Behind him was a wall very far away. It looked as if it encircled the entire mountain. He rubbed his eyes. This was right from his dream.

"You need to check in first. Then you need to set up a file with the accountants. I will help you with that. Then you can check out the stores. I will have to leave after we get you set at the accountants. I have to go and collect the rest of my students. Follow me."

"Where's my family?"

Tim started walking toward the mountain. "Well, they are still in New York. I will explain later."

Mark followed Tim to the mountain. It was just like in his dream. The desert was hot, but not too hot. It actually felt good to be there.

A young lady was sitting at a table just inside the doors. She greeted them as they entered. She wore a black tunic trimmed in silver. Her short brown hair enclosed her round face. Her vivid eyes glowed like green embers.

It was cool inside and had the feel of a shopping mall. The corridor they were in led to another corridor that ran perpendicular. People, loads of them, some dressed in black tunics or gray tunics, others dressed in regular clothes, walked in small groups in both directions in the corridor ahead.

Tim put his heavy hand on Mark's shoulder. "This is Mark Young. You can check him off your list."

The lady smiled and looked at her clipboard. She made a notation on the paper and nodded at Tim. She picked up a set of papers and handed them to Mark.

Tim turned to Mark. "You are checked in now. The accountant's office is our next stop. It will cost about two thousand dollars to buy your schoolbooks and supplies."

So that's why I need all that money. Things are expensive here.

"You can just sign for your supplies until you get your signet, but you need your account set up first. There are lots of neat shops here. You will want to check it all out. Remember that I need to leave after we finish at the accountants. I will meet you at The Oasis say around 8 o'clock tonight. You will like The Oasis."

"The Oasis?"

"Yeah, you can get anything you want to eat or drink there, from any place in the whole world. I always get something that I have never had before. I have been there hundreds of times and never had the same thing twice."

Tim turned and walked to a set of double glass doors that were in the same corridor that they were in. The sign on the doors read, "The Good Steward." Tim held the door open for Mark to enter.

Inside looked like any office you might see. The people were sitting behind desks in the main room. There were offices on the far wall. Tim stepped up to a desk.

"This is Mark Young." He fished inside one of his robe pockets and retrieved several slips of paper, one of which he handed to the man behind the desk. "This is his information."

The man looked at the slip of paper and then at Mark. His blue eyes were almost as bright as Tim's. He handed a clipboard toward Mark. "Sign these and we will set up an account here that draws on your account at Chase Manhattan."

Mark signed the papers and handed the clipboard back to the man.

He turned to talk to Tim, but Tim was gone. The door leading back to the mall was closed. He saw the door leading outside, into the desert, just finish closing. Mark turned to the man and shrugged. "Thank you."

Mark went out the door that he thought Tim had gone out. Tim was nowhere to be seen. It dawned on him that he was alone. Everything that had just happened had happened so fast. Fifteen minutes ago he had been in the plush conference room in New York. Now he was standing and looking out over a desert in the middle of who knew where. There was no one there that he could ask questions. He was a stranger in a strange place. He looked at the papers the lady had given him when he checked in.

Text Books:

"Ancient Languages, Level 1" (Diefenbuacher and Dover)

"Single Combat Strategy and Tactics" (Joramina Vanmie)

"Algebra and Numeric Logic" (Thorpe and Shadowitz)

"History of Empires" (David Giancoli)

"History of Scientific Thought" (Allen and Becker)

"Communication Theory and Practice" (AlHufus Diefenderfer)

"Astronomy through the Ages" (Charlie Goodfellow)

Clothing:

(1) Dress School Tunic set (black and silver)

(1) Blazon Tabard

(3) Work tunics sets (gray)

(5) Class tunic sets in tribe colors

(1) Pair sandals ("flip-flops" are not allowed)

(1) Pair work boots (winter type)

(1) Hooded cloak (summer type)

(1) Hooded cloak (winter type)

Various under garments and toiletries as needed

Equipment and Supplies:

Clean white paper and parchment

Notebooks

Sealing wax

Signet ring with your name

Writing tools (pens, pencils, and highlighters)

Calculating machine

Binoculars or hand held telescope

Astronomical telescope (groups are allowed to share these)

Combat training sword

Combat training weapon of your choice (optional)

Combat training knife (optional)

Utility tool

Saddle (optional)

Mark's thoughts were interrupted by a sound that he knew only too well. It was the sound of the taunting of a bully. He remembered an incident with Keith Green and the Greenies.

Being accosted by the Greenies had been a regular, almost daily, occurrence for Mark in grade school. In the episode that he remembered now, it had been two whole weeks, a record of sorts, since Keith Green and his buddies had bothered him. That was when they had thrown him over the fence into Beaufort, the German Shepherd's yard. Since that time he had been taking a different route to and from the store and it seemed to be working. He would cut behind the store and across a field to a street that ran a block behind his house. It was the long way around, but it was worth it to avoid the Greenies.

The day that he remembered was different. He rounded the corner to the back of the store and there they were, sitting on top of the dumpster. Each had a beer and a cigarette. Mark heard someone say, "Grab him!"

Mark's first thought was, _They're going to make me smoke a cigarette._ It always seemed like what he thought was the worst thing that they could do to him was exactly what they did do.

Mark turned and before he completed his first step he felt a hand latch onto his collar. He landed flat on his back. Keith climbed on top of him, sitting straddling his chest with his knees pinning Mark's arms down. Someone was sitting on Mark's legs. The rest of the crew stood around laughing.

Keith said, "This is so that you won't tell on us, you frigging tattletale. You say we were drinking beer. We say you were too. You say we were smoking. We say you were too." Keith shoved a lit cigarette into Mark's mouth. "Smoke! Or we'll beat the crap out of you!"

The door to the back of the store swung open. "What's going on out here?" A voice called from inside the door. Mark looked to see who spoke. A short man wearing a white apron was standing at the door.

The Greenies froze in their tracks for a moment. All at once they broke and ran in different directions. Mark was still lying on the ground with the cigarette in his mouth. He sat up and spat the foul thing out.

"Looks like I opened that door in the nick of time. You okay, son?"

Mark stood up. "Yes sir."

"Those kids were in here earlier. I thought that they were up to no good. I just couldn't catch them."

"Thanks." Mark knew that he had to do something about the Greenies. This was getting ridiculous. He was going to do something; he just didn't know what that something was, yet.

Mark came back to reality and looked for where the sound was coming from. Not fifty yards from the school steps, a single boy was being confronted by three other, larger boys. They all looked about Mark's age. The one boy was shouting at the other three.

"GIVE IT BACK!"

Mark walked over to the group. It was obvious that the bigger boy in the group of three had taken the single boy's school list away from him. He was holding it over his head. The larger boy had fifty pounds and half a foot on Mark. His very round head said that he had a more than healthy appetite, if not much brains.

The single boy was about the same size as Mark. His tousled black hair and open shirt gave him a disheveled look. The altercation had obviously been physical at some point.

"Here, you can have mine." Mark handed his list toward the boy.

They all stopped and looked at Mark. The bigger boy in the group of three said to Mark, "I know you. You're Mark Young. I dreamed about you. You don't scare me."

Mark looked at the larger boy and smiled. "That's right. I am Mark Young. Who are you?"

"My name is Ralph, Ralph Lawrence. I'm not afraid of you."

_Why does he keep saying that he isn't afraid of me?_ "Who are your friends?"

The guy on Ralph's right side said, "I'm Ricky Barns." He was tan and lanky. His accent made Mark think he was from Texas. His face reminded Mark of a cartoon buzzard. His nose was way too big for his face and his eyes were way too small.

The guy at Ralph's left side was short and a little pudgy. He reminded Mark of the little garden gnome statues. "I'm Keith Richards."

Mark let his smile go. He looked Ralph straight in the eyes. He wanted to let Ralph know that the odds had shifted a little. He thought about what he would like to do to Ralph; or any other bully for that matter. He twirled his staff over his head like a baton and brought it to rest horizontally under his arm. Mark smiled again. Ralph stiffened and dropped the list.

Ralph said to no one in particular, "Let's go."

Ralph and his two buddies walked off toward the school's main entrance. That was the first time in Mark's life that a bully had backed down so easily.

"Thanks. I'm Nikola Poparov. My friends call me Nick."

"I hate bullies. What were they picking on you for?" Mark picked up the list on the ground and handed it to Nick.

"I don't know really. I guess because I was out here alone and seemed like an easy target. Are you a freshman, too?" Nick took the list back and nodded his thanks.

"Yeah, I think so. Tim, the guy that brought me here, said that I should check out the shops and then meet him at 8 o'clock tonight at The Oasis. You want to hang out 'til then?"

"Sure. Tim brought me, too. He told me the same thing." Nick buttoned up his shirt and dusted himself off. He noted that one of the buttons on his shirt had been torn off.

"Are you hungry? I didn't get a chance to eat before Tim brought me here."

"Yeah, me too. Let's see if we can find The Oasis. Where are you from?"

"Kansas. How about you?"

"North Carolina."

### Chapter 6

# Let's Go Shopping

Friends are...

Mark and Nick walked back into the mountain. This time, Mark noticed that the decor was just like in his dream. Marble walls and floors, burnished wooden beams forming a diamond pattern high above with chandeliers hanging from every intersection. He thought about asking Nick if he had had dreams about this place and then decided not to.

The short passage terminated into a long promenade that went to the left and to the right. Groups of people were meandering here and there. Different stores and shops lined the public walk. This was a shopping mall. There was even a marquee at the end of the short hall showing all the stores.

The marquee was a megalithic looking, round, lighted sign, set atop a pedestal, which was on a short, circular, stage-like platform. It showed a map of the first level of the mountain with small, numbered, color-coded boxes indicating the location of shops. The numbered, color-coded register showed well over a thousand stores and shops, each specializing in one particular line of goods. There were bakeries, confectionaries, drink shops, tack shops, clothing stores, movie theaters, electronic and technical shops and a wide variety of shops for just about anything that you could think of. The Oasis wasn't, by far, the only place to find something to eat. It was just the closest.

The Oasis was the first place to the right and it was huge. It could easily seat three thousand people. There were a dozen rows of dining tables, each in a different color. No one was sitting at the tables. At the farthest end from the door was a stage with a row of tables on it.

High-back dining booths lined the walls, more than a hundred on either side. Most of the booths were occupied. Mark and Nick chose one of the unoccupied booths. Mark leaned the staff against the wall and slid in behind it. Nick sat on the opposite side.

There were four large books on the booth's black marble table and four sets of silverware wrapped in gray napkins at the four places. Mark examined one of the large books. It was a menu the size of a large phone book. Countries were listed alphabetically and had their own sections. Foods were listed according to category.

Mark said, "They must have a huge kitchen here. Tim said that you could get anything you want to eat or drink from any place in the world in here."

Nick said, "We haven't got our signets yet. You have to have your signet registered at The Good Steward so that they know which account to charge. You can't buy anything without your signet." Nick sounded as if everyone should know this.

"Tim told me that you could sign for stuff until you got your signet. He didn't say anything about needing any spending money or anything."

"My brother, Ivan, told me that you need a signet for everything in school. He says that you can't even get a toothpick without your signet."

A voice interrupted from the end of the table. The young waitress was tall and slender. Bright green eyes greeted Mark and Nick when they looked up at her. Her red hair was done up in a bun. She was wearing a white blouse and black slacks. Her nametag read, "Shana O'Riley."

"Freshmen are the exception to that rule during orientation. They can sign or use a signet for orientation only. You guys ready to order?"

Mark said, "Lemonade, please, and chicken fried rice."

Shana asked, "Which country?"

Mark thought for a moment and said, "China."

"China is closed right now. It's the middle of the night there. You have to order from a country that is awake." Shana used her pencil and pointed to the cover of one of the menus. The cover had a map of the world and the different time zones.

Mark said, "Sorry, I don't know which time zone we're in."

"Number eight."

"Well then, how about the U.S." Mark was confident that this would be available.

"Each state in the U.S. is considered a separate country for food purchases."

"California."

Nick had been following this. "I'll have iced tea from Georgia and a club sandwich."

Shana chuckled a little and asked, "The state or the country?"

Nick blushed. "The state please."

She wrote on her order book. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Before she left, Mark asked her, "Why do you have to order from a country that is awake?"

"Because there aren't any shops open if everyone is asleep."

"You mean you actually have to go there to get what we order?"

"Well, yeah, one of us does. You really are new to this aren't you?"

Mark said, "I guess it shows."

Shana smiled, turned and walked away.

Nick said, "They remanifest, like Tim did when he brought you here. They can go anywhere they have ever been before. It's really neat. If you concentrate really hard on something that you have seen, then you just automatically go to wherever that thing is. Remanifestation is something that all seniors learn. Ivan says that he heard that it's hard to learn."

"I don't mean to sound stupid or anything, but what is a Magi?"

"You're joking, right?"

"No. All of this is very strange to me. I've never seen or heard of anything like it."

"How did you get to be a Magi then? I mean, my mother and father were Magi and so were their parents. Their parents were too. Anyone can become a Magi, but you have to be recommended by a Magi. My parents recommended me."

"I don't know how I became a Magi. Tim says that I was chosen. He didn't say by who or why. He said my great, great, great, great grandfather was a Magi."

"You were chosen?"

"Yeah, that's what Tim said."

"Wow! That's awesome! Do you know what your destiny is?"

"I don't have a clue. It probably has something to do with this staff."

"Can I see it?"

"Sorry, I'm supposed to guard it, I think."

"Guard it from what?"

"I don't know. I guess I'll find out."

"That's cool."

"Okay. I still don't know what a Magi is."

"Well, Magi are secret warriors, kind of. They are not magicians or sorcerers or anything like that. Trained Magi blend mind, body and spirit to help people and to fight when needed. Magi have special powers because of that."

"Do you mean secret warriors like ninja?"

"You are really new to this. No. Magi have special powers and ninja don't."

"You mean powers like remanifesting."

"Yeah, and a lot more too."

"A lot more, like what?"

"Spirit sight, dream casting, healing powers, and all kinds of stuff. I don't even know it all."

"I guess that I'll catch on to that, too."

"I guess so."

Mark and Nick finished lunch and left The Oasis. They decided to go and examine the signet rings. The shop wasn't hard to find.

They walked in to Diefenderfer's Signet Shop. It was unlike any other jewelry store that Mark had ever seen in shopping malls. Glass display cases were everywhere, only there weren't any tops on them. Everything was out in the open.

The shopkeeper was behind the glass counter with his back toward them. His sleeveless black tunic revealed several thick scars on his arms and shoulders. He also had a thick scar that crossed the middle of his bald head from the base of his skull to the top of his head.

"Young Mister Young... and Young Mister Poparov... welcome." The shopkeeper didn't turn to face them.

The boys looked at each other. Mark said, "How did you know who we are?"

"I am... AlHufus Diefenderfer... I am... sirs... an oracle." With that he turned and faced the boys. Both boys could see that he was old and quite blind. His eyes were black and lifeless. The scar on his head continued to the middle of his forehead.

"You may think me blind... but I assure you... good sirs... I am not. I have not... the use... of my eyes, but... I see quite well. Now... how may I help you?" His speech seemed odd only in the fact that he paused between phrases. Everything else about it was quite normal, even if somewhat disconcerting.

Mark started to speak but Mr. Diefenderfer cut him off. "So... you wish to... examine my wares. You are aware... are you not... that you cannot... purchase anything... without your counselor's approval?"

He paused again and then answered another question that Mark was about to ask. "Tim... is your counselor. He will be... taking his group... around to the different shops... starting tomorrow. I expect... that this will be... one of the first places... that your group... will visit. If you find... a ring... that you particularly like... then I will... set it aside... until you visit me... again. Go ahead... look around."

There were many display cases in the shop, arranged like library shelves that formed aisles. Each case was filled with small cubbies, each containing an individual ring and a number etched and colored on the upper edge of the cubby.

Mark and Nick looked at many of the rings. They both picked out signet rings that they liked. Mark's ring had a crest with a lion standing on a large rock. Nick chose a simple design of crossed sabers. Mr. Diefenderfer put them into a drawer with several other rings.

The boys turned to leave when Mr. Diefenderfer said, "Swords are... best selected... when you know... your own skill... and style. Learning the sword... is best done... with a sword... that you don't mind... destroying. Wisdom comes... with prudence... and patience."

"How did you know we were going to look at swords next?" Mark was again surprised my Mr. Diefenderfer's clairvoyance.

"I have told you... good sir... I am AlHufus Diefenderfer... an oracle. But... it does not take... an oracle... to foretell... what two freshmen boys... on opening day... of orientation... are apt... to be wishing... to examine."

Mark and Nick walked to Vanmie Swords. There were a lot of tables in the store, each with individual styles of swords on them.

The proprietor was a short lady. She was not any taller than Mark himself. Her long, single braid of black hair reached to her ankles. She was dressed in a black tunic trimmed in silver. Her eyes were luminous brown. She turned and greeted them as they entered.

"Hello gentlemen." Her voice was soft and gentle, almost a whisper. "I am Joramina Vanmie. How may I help you?"

"We're just looking, ma'am." Mark looked past her, to the case behind. Row upon row of trophies adorned the shelves. Each trophy sported a figure with sword raised high.

Ms. Vanmie smiled and stepped aside.

"Are all those trophies yours?"

"Yes sir. I've taken first place, for the last fifty years, in single combat."

"Wow!" That was remarkable because of her size and the fact that she looked hardly older than his mom, who was twenty-nine, according to her.

Mark's attention was drawn to an interruption in the back of the shop. He turned and saw Ralph Lawrence waving a sword in the air.

"I bet you could really cut someone's head off with this one!"

Ricky Barns brandished a sword at Ralph. "On guard!"

Ralph swung his sword against Ricky's. CLANG!

Ms. Vanmie raised her voice ever so slightly. "If you damage it, you buy it."

Ralph and Ricky stopped, shrugged at each other and put the swords down. They walked past Mark and Nick on their way out. Ralph muttered, "I'll see you in combat class." He butted Mark with his bulging belly.

Mark scowled and shook his head. "Whatever."

"You say you're just looking. Help yourselves."

"Yes ma'am. Ma'am... which swords are good for learning with?"

"Have you had any training?"

Both boys answered, "No ma'am."

She picked up a tape measure and held her arms out to the side. "I need to measure you."

Mark laid the staff against his shoulder and held out his arms. Nick held out his arms too. Ms. Vanmie measured their arms, legs, and waist.

"I'm guessing that neither of you know your style. And I think that it is safe to say that your skill level is zero. What I am going to do next is to test your reflexive style of defense. Follow me into the back room." Nick followed her. Mark grabbed up his staff and followed Nick.

Both boys walked through the door and Ms. Vanmie immediately said, "I'm going to hit you with this bamboo pole. Defend yourself."

Mark heard the swoosh and ducked when the bamboo pole passed over his head. Both boys jumped when the pole passed low at their ankles. Mark flinched sideways when the pole came down straight for his head. Instinctively, holding the staff with both hands, he parried the would-be-blow to the side with his staff. Nick used that instant to grab a wooden baton from the table in front of him. There were tables all over, some with old swords, some with wooden batons shaped like swords. He brandished the baton in front of himself, awaiting the next blow. It never came.

Ms. Vanmie twirled her pole in front of her, then over her head, then behind her, and brought it to rest at her side.

"Mark, you have two styles. One is suited to the gladius, a short sword. The other is suited to the katana. Which do you wish to learn first?"

"I know what a short sword is, I think. What is a katana?"

"A katana is an oriental design. It is a thin, lightly curved blade with a slanted tip. In your case, the best length is thirty-four inches."

She pulled a sheathed katana from a group of swords on a nearby table and tossed it to him. It had the number thirty-four stamped on the hilt.

"The short sword is in the 'grunt and clunk' class of swords. It has a wide, double-edged blade with a point. Both have their strengths and weaknesses. Thirty-four inches is also the best length for you on this sword." She pulled a sheathed short sword from another table and tossed it to him.

Mark dropped the katana on the table beside him in order to catch the short sword. Instinctively, he didn't drop the staff. The short sword also had the number thirty-four stamped on the hilt.

"The best way to decide which one to study first is to see which one you like best."

Mark pulled each sword in turn from its scabbard and tested the feel in his hand.

"Nick, your style is definitely the cutlass. The cutlass is in the 'stand-off' class of swords. It has a wide, long curved blade. Most have points; some don't. Your length is forty inches." She retrieved a cutlass and tossed it to Nick. It had the number forty stamped on the hilt.

Nick pulled the cutlass from its sheath and tested the feel of it in his hand.

"Mark, have you made up your mind?"

"The short sword feels better in my hand, but I think I have more control with the katana." Mark had a sword in each hand when he spoke. The staff leaned against his shoulder.

Neither sword had been sharpened. They were obviously for training.

"Control and accuracy are what you want in a sword. It would probably be best for you to start with a katana. Give me the short sword back, and you can keep the katana. Nick, you can keep the cutlass."

Mark spoke first. "We haven't gotten our signets yet. We can't purchase anything without our counselor's okay."

"You don't need a signet or a counselor's permission to accept a gift." Ms. Vanmie crossed her arms in front of her and tilted her head to the left. "Besides, I am your combat teacher. What I say about swords overrides what your counselor says." She raised her thin eyebrows and bowed her head ever so slightly.

Both boys looked at each other. Their mouths dropped open.

Mark said, "I don't get it."

"You two have quite a different attitude than I get from other freshmen boys." Ms. Vanmie approached them. "Usually it's just like you saw out there. 'Oh Wow! I bet you could really cut someone's head off with this one,' or a couple of boys pick up swords and pretend to have at it. It's refreshing to see respect from freshmen. Thank you."

### Chapter 7

# Dimmer 'n Dirt

_Being paranoid doesn't mean the threat isn't real_.

Both boys left the sword shop with their new weapons slung over their shoulders. They decided to check out the bookstore next. Not fifty paces out of the sword shop the boys heard a voice behind them.

"What makes you so special?" Mark recognized the voice without having to turn around. It was Ralph Lawrence. When he did turn he saw that Ralph's two buddies were still with him.

"What?"

"You've got swords."

"No one told you?" What Mark was about to say came to him instantly, intuitively. "I can't believe no one told you."

"Told me what?"

"That if you can touch Ms. Vanmie when she is testing your natural defensive reflexes that she will give you a sword. I can't believe you didn't know that."

"You're telling me that you actually were able to touch Ms. Vanmie, the greatest living sword fighter in the whole world. You're a frickin' liar."

"Suit yourself. You're right. She gave us the swords because of our attitudes."

"Yeah, right!"

"Okay then; you figure it out. I lied to you and I told you the truth. Which was the lie and which was the truth?"

"I'll kick your butt."

"Use your brain. Think now. I have a sword. Nick has a sword. That means that something out of the ordinary has happened. That means that possibly, just possibly, there is something about us that you don't know. Think about it. What do you think that something might be?"

"Okay, you're very fast or really lucky or a good liar."

Mark stiffened his stance and smiled. "Care to take a chance and find out?"

Ralph stiffened. "I'll know by tomorrow. And just you remember; I'm not afraid of you!" Ralph turned and walked off. Ricky and Keith followed him.

Mark and Nick continued to walk toward the bookstore. "You know, I'll bet that they're heading straight for the sword shop. You want to go and watch what happens?"

Nick smiled at the thought. "Yeah. If Ralph takes the bait and tries to touch Ms. Vanmie, it'll be fun to watch."

They walked back toward the sword shop and saw the trio enter. Nick looked at Mark and said, "You were right. They're pretty stupid."

Mark and Nick walked into the store just in time to hear Ralph ask, "Is it true that if someone can touch you when you test their reflexes, that you will give them a sword?"

Ms. Vanmie looked at Mark and Nick. Mark was remembering his first encounter with Ralph and how Ralph was taunting Nick. Ms. Vanmie paused for a moment and stared at Mark. Then she looked at Nick. A scowl came over her face and she said, "I see." Then she nodded slowly at Mark and Nick.

She turned her attention back to Ralph. "So you think that you might be quick enough or lucky enough to be able to touch me during the reflex test do you?"

"No. I was just asking if it was true." Ralph seemed very nervous.

"Well then, let's test your reflexes while you're here. If any one of you can touch me then I'll give all three of you the sword of your choice. I'll even let you say when to stop."

"The sword of our choice? Any sword?"

"Yes. You can pick any sword at all if just one of you manages to touch me even in the slightest way."

"All right. What do we have to do?"

"Follow me into the back room. I will get a small bamboo pole. You can pick any riotous that you like."

"What's a riotous?"

"It's any of several different kinds of wooden practice swords."

Each of the three boys followed her through the door and returned with her. Each had a rather long wooden club shaped like a sword, each with a handle and a hilt. She had a small bamboo pole.

"Let's go outside so that we will have more room."

Mark and Nick followed them outside. The three boys lined up in front of Ms. Vanmie. Each raised their club in front of them. Passersby stopped to watch.

She looked at the three and smiled. "I'm going to hit you with this pole. Defend yourselves." What followed was almost a blur.

She jabbed Ricky in the solar plexus, her pole swung up and slapped Ralph across the left cheek. Before Ricky was fully bent over double, she had struck Keith twice on the collarbone, once on the left thigh, spun and struck his right thigh and thrust up, striking his right wrist. Before Keith's riotous hit the ground her pole slapped Ralph on the right cheek. She spun and struck Ralph on his left cheek, came down to his collarbone and raked the pole across his throat. She faced away from Ralph and pushed the pole between her body and elbow, striking Ralph in the solar plexus. Ralph bent double and hit the ground at the same time his riotous did. Keith was backing away with his hands raised. The entire event took less than three seconds.

She stood over Ralph. "You will find that there is very little that you can hide from the teachers here. Although bullies are tolerated here at The Seventh Mountain, they are not encouraged. Bullies are tolerated for one reason and one reason only. Magi must deal with bullies and the like in the world at large. Dealing with bullies here at The Seventh Mountain is considered good training. Consider yourself dealt with."

She put her hands on her hips. "There is another thing to add insult to injury. Practical jokes are actually encouraged here. It helps Magi train in detecting and avoiding traps. Points are awarded to the one who succeeds in the trap and points are subtracted from the one who fails in the trap. Mark and Nick are hereby awarded ten points each and Ralph, Ricky and Keith each loose ten points. Now, get out of here."

She looked directly at Mark. "Mark, Nick, I want to talk to you in my office."

Mark and Nick followed her into her office. "You may be wondering how I knew what was going on."

Mark tilted his head.

"Well, Mark, you have the very rare ability that we call Rooack Dabar, spirit speak. You can actually project your thoughts into other peoples' minds."

"Really?"

"I believe so. This ability is very rare. It has not been seen in more than a thousand years."

"How do you know I've got it?"

"That is how I knew the truth of what had happened. Your mind spoke to mine. That is why I went along with your little joke. I don't like bullies either. But I warn you now, don't use that tactic again in the future. You must fight your own battles and lying is never acceptable. The reason for this will become clear later on in your training. Out of curiosity, why did you choose to lie first instead of last?"

"First, I really don't like bullies. Second, I knew that he wouldn't believe me no matter what I said. I was just trying to convince him that he didn't want to fight me."

Ms. Vanmie frowned. "I see, you were bluffing. That won't work well with Rooack Dabar."

"I guess not."

"Okay, that's all, you can go now."

Mark and Nick left the sword shop and continued their trek to the bookstore, resuming what they had been doing before they were interrupted.

The bookstore was very large and several stories tall. It flanked the entrance hall opposite The Oasis. There were rows and rows of white book shelves everywhere. Books on shelves lined every inch of wall space. Freestanding shelves loaded with books formed aisles all over the place. Small tables with two chairs were situated at the end of every aisle. A large spiral staircase lead to the next floor. The upper floors were circular balconies overlooking the first floor. The ceiling was very high overhead. A large skylight illuminated the entire bookstore.

A couple of hours passed while they browsed every bookshelf. The store was arranged in sections with each section representing a level of study. The higher the level, the more subsections there were. The senior level had well over several hundred subsections, maybe as many as a thousand. It seemed that a Magi could branch out and study just about anything in the world that they might want.

Harmonious Thorpe walked up in front of Mark and Nick. He was a very muscular man. His long, thick blond hair and goatee made him look like what Mark thought an English knight would look like without his armor. Mark didn't think that this man would ever need armor. His eyes glowed neon blue. His voice was a deep bass. When he spoke, you felt it; every syllable penetrated like rumbles of thunder from an approaching storm.

"Good evening, gentlemen. Ah... Mr. Young and Mr. Poparov I see." Mr. Thorpe squatted and put his face very close to Mark's face.

"Mr. Young, you will find that just because everyone has dreamed about you that it does not make you special. What differentiates you is what is in here." He touched Mark's forehead with his dill-pickle-sized finger. "And in here." He touched Mark's chest over his heart.

"Thank you, sir, I don't mean to sound disrespectful or anything, but I already know that. What do you mean that everybody has dreamed about me?"

"Ah... I'm glad to see that you are a know-it-all as well." His tone was mean to the point of almost being hostile, which was curious, because Mark had never met the man and didn't even have an idea of who he was.

"Everyone has seen, in their dreams, your birth and your retrieval of that staff you carry. Most freshmen don't remember their dreams. They will know that the boy with the staff is, shall we say, a déjà vu. Everyone else here does remember their dreams. That staff identifies you as one that Teknon Kakos wants out of the way. Evidently, you and that staff mean something to him." His tone remained disapproving, even threatening.

"Excuse me, sir. All of this is new to me. How can everyone dream about me and who is Teknon Kakos?"

"Dreams are a normal part of life for everyone. This is especially true for Magi. Magi learn the ability to dream-cast. Only, the dreams about you were not dream-cast by any Magi. A Magi that casts a dream is always in the dream. There were no Magi in the dreams about you except for Tim and Gerod and they didn't cast the dreams. The dreams about you are a mystery. As for Teknon Kakos, he was also known in ancient times as Benrah. Both names mean 'The Son of Evil.'"

Mark remembered the voice in his dream that kept telling him that he was going to die. The name, Benrah, was the name that he had on the edge of his mind and just couldn't quite bring out. It also came to him where he had seen the name Thorpe.

"Don't you think that the staff you carry is a little short for a shepherd's crook? If you look at the bottom of it you will see that part of it is missing. We believe this staff to be very special. Benrah derives his power from artifacts such as this. He will stop at nothing to get it. It is _your_ destiny to prevent that from happening." He acted like the word "your" left a bad taste in his mouth.

Mark remembered the dream of his birth and how the horse had tried to kill his mom. "Yes sir. I know."

"I've been selected to tell you this so that you will be on guard for any action or deception that would relieve you of the care and custody of that staff. With every artifact he collects, Benrah becomes stronger."

"I think I understand, sir, but why me?"

Mr. Thorpe rolled his eyes and stood up, towering over Mark and looking down on him.

"You were selected for this destiny long before you were born. That was made known to your forefather, Joseph Young. He put things in place so that you could find the staff before Teknon Kakos figured out where it was hidden. You were chosen because of your bloodline, a noble bloodline indeed, but that little detail is something that you must discover for yourself."

"Do you teach algebra and numeric logic?"

"That's rather perceptive of you. Most freshmen don't realize that until they show up for the first class. We shall see if you are that perceptive in class, something which I highly doubt."

Mr. Thorpe, having delivered this ominous news, turned to walk off.

"I remember seeing your name on my list next to that textbook."

He started walking away and kept his back to them while he spoke.

"That's right. Theresa Shadowitz and I wrote that textbook. That's enough chitchat. It's well after seven now. Get yourselves over to The Oasis and wait for your counselors."

Mark felt happy to be finally getting some answers, yet he didn't know how to feel about getting them from this particular man. Something about this man made him feel like he was facing another bully. There was just something about Mr. Thorpe that made Mark think that he took pleasure in making others feel uncomfortable.

### Chapter 8

# Binding of the Four

_Time is measured in the soul, souls are measured in time_.

Mark and Nick sat down at one of the few unoccupied booths. They both looked at the menu. Mark calculated that it was lunchtime in Australia. He turned to the section on Australia and found just what he wanted. Nick was looking at the State of Louisiana. He asked Mark, "What is étouffée?"

"I don't know. I haven't ever heard of it before. Are you going to try it?"

"I don't think that it will kill me. You have to try new things sometimes in your life. If you don't try new things, then you just go stale. At least that is what my mom says. I think that is an old Serbian saying or something. My grandparents are from Serbia."

The waitress, Shana, came to their table. Mark ordered a grilled steak, onion rings, and lemonade from Australia. Nick ordered the fish étouffée and iced tea from Louisiana.

They had just about finished eating when Tim showed up. "You guys join the rest of my group at that table over there when you finish eating. I will give you your instructions over there." He pointed to one of the larger tables. Mark saw that several people were already seated over there. Tim walked over and joined the group. Mark looked around and saw several other groups seated around the other tables.

After they finished their dinner, they walked over and joined the group. Mark sat down next to a girl with long, straight, black hair. He liked how nice her hair was and how it shimmered in the light. She was wearing a white cotton-print sundress with floral designs on it, making her look playful yet polished and pretty. Her smooth dark complexion made Mark remember the Cherokee people that he had seen back in North Carolina.

She turned and greeted him. "Hi. I'm Chenoa Day." She extended her hand and looked at Mark. "Do I know you? I have the strangest feeling that I know you."

Mark took her hand and smiled. "I'm Mark Young. I don't think that we have ever met." Mark remembered Mr. Thorpe telling him that freshmen would feel déjà vu when they saw him.

Nick sat down across the table from Mark, next to a boy with close-cropped black hair wearing dark slacks and a multi-colored, striped, button-up shirt. He said to Nick, "Hi. I'm Jamal Terfa." He extended his hand to Nick. Nick shook his hand. He then extended his hand to Mark. "I have that feeling too, like we have met before."

Mark shook his hand. "Hi. I'm Mark Young. I don't think that we have ever met either."

"Excuse me." Tim rapped on the table with his knuckles. "I want you to meet me back here tomorrow at seven in the morning. Seven sharp. Tomorrow you will be buying most of your school supplies. I will be taking you to the barracks in a few minutes. That is where you will sleep tonight. You will find a bed and footlocker there with your name on it. That is your bed and locker. When you get picked for your tribe, then your bed will be moved into your dormitory. Some of you might be wondering why you think you know Mark Young. That is the boy with the staff, down there at the end of the table. Well, you all dreamed about him. Some of you might remember the dreams. Most of you do not, at least not consciously. That is why you feel like you have met him before. Now, follow me."

The group of sixteen girls and boys followed Tim through a door on the side of the stage into a wide hallway. "We are going to wait here for Gerod. He is going to be joining us for the walk to the barracks. I have a map of the second level for you."

Mark took the map that Tim handed him. It looked like a bull's eye target. There were twelve rings of rooms separated by eleven corridors. The center circle was labeled "Council of Elders." He saw that the barracks were all the way on the other side of the mountain.

Gerod and his group arrived and the two groups followed their counselors up the stairs to the second level. There were twelve landings separated by fifty stair treads, making six hundred stair steps between the first and second levels.

Gerod said, "Okay everyone that was a long climb for those who aren't used to it. Take a minute or two to catch your breath and let your legs recuperate."

The wide halls were elaborately decorated with simple and elaborate sculptures and paintings, large, medium and small, done in all kinds of styles.

Tim said, "All of the art work you see here was done by students here. If you find something that you particularly like, hang a green ribbon on it. It will then come up for sale at the end-of-year art auction. That is only one of the events right after the graduation ceremonies."

One of Gerod's students asked, "Aren't there any elevators here?"

Gerod answered, "Of course there are, but they're only for guests and those sick or injured. Stair climbing gives you a good workout. In a month you won't think anything of it."

A half hour later they came to the barracks. Tim and Gerod opened the huge, gray, double doors that led into the common room. Everything was gray. The walls in the colossal room were lined with gray bookshelves and portraits hung in gray frames. There were several long gray tables with gray chairs all around. There was a large fireplace, done in gray brick, without a fire. A large, gray framed window looked out on the now dark grounds. There were several gray billiard tables, air hockey tables, foosball tables and what Mark later learned were dueling pinball machines, mostly all occupied. Other groups of students had arrived before they had. The place was alive with activity.

Tim pointed to a hallway that led off to his right. "The girl's barracks are that way. The boy's barracks are that way." He pointed to a hallway that led off to his left. "At least one counselor will be here all night in case you have any questions. There are not any alarm clocks here. I expect you at breakfast at seven in the morning, sharp, one point off for every minute that you are late. You will find your name on the locker at the foot of your bed." Tim and Gerod turned and walked out.

Nick spoke first. "It's not even 10 o'clock yet. I'm not tired. Anybody want to play a game?"

Jamal shook his head. "No. It has to be a test. Tim said that we have to be at breakfast at 7 o'clock. I'm not taking the bait."

"Jamal has to be right." Chenoa stepped up beside Jamal. "Think about it. All of this stuff is here to temp us into staying up. If we stay up, then we are not likely to get up in time to make it to breakfast on time."

Mark looked at Nick and said, "I'm pretty tired anyway. It's been a long day for me. I think I'll find my bed and get some sleep."

The three boys walked off to the boy's barracks. Chenoa went to the hall leading to the girl's barracks. Mark noticed that every bed had a gray tunic set, neatly folded, laying on it. There was toothpaste, a toothbrush and soap setting on top of the tunic set. Each boy found his bed, picked up the stuff on his own bed and headed for the showers at the end of the barracks.

It didn't matter that the pillowcase and blanket were the same dull gray just like everyone else's, he found his way back to his bed easily enough, a welcome destination after the long day. The mattress was just a little too firm, and the pillow a tad on the thick side and the noise level a little too high, but sleep beckoned and he gladly went.

* * *

Mark had no idea what time it was when he awoke. Everyone else was still asleep but he felt well rested. He reached under the mattress, removed the staff, and went off looking for a clock.

There were no clocks to be found, anywhere. The morning light coming through the window in the common room told him that it had not been long since the sun had risen. He had no idea what time the sun was supposed to rise this time of year. He went back to the barracks and woke up Nick.

"Nick... Nick. Do you have a watch?"

Nick stirred. "What did you say?"

"Do you have a watch?"

"No. What time is it?"

"I don't know, but the sun is up."

"Check Jamal. Maybe he has a watch."

Nick roused himself while Mark went to Jamal's bed. Mark shook Jamal lightly.

"Jamal. Do you have a watch?"

"What?"

"Do you have a watch?"

"No man. I don't have a watch."

"The sun is up. We better get to breakfast."

Mark went back to his bed. He remembered leaving his socks in the top of his shoes. They were missing. So were his dirty clothes. He looked around and found them neatly folded lying on his locker. He smelled them. They were clean. He looked up and down the rows of beds. Clothes were neatly folded on top of every locker.

Mark, Jamal and Nick quickly got dressed.

"Do you think we should wake the others?" Jamal had just finished putting on his shoes.

"Yeah. You take that side. I'll take this side." Nick started waking people up as he spoke.

"I'll go yell down the girl's hallway. I'll wait for you by the doors." Mark sped out of the boy's barracks and over to the girl's hallway. He shouted, "Everyone! The sun's up. We're going to be late for breakfast."

Mark heard down the hallway, "All right, already. I'm up. I'll wake the others."

A few moments later Chenoa emerged from the hall. She was still wearing her gray tunic set. "Don't wait for me. You might be late. I'll catch up."

"I don't think that we are late yet, but hurry up just in case."

Most of the boys had left by the time Chenoa showed up.

"Nobody has a watch. We'd better hurry. I think that we should jog." Mark led the way out the door. He started jogging and the others followed.

The tables were packed with students, upperclassmen, wearing tunics with trim that matched the color of the table where they sat. The tunic sets were black, made of thick cotton with trim in class colors around the collars, sleeve ends, and shirttails, which went almost to the knees. The pants tied at the waist and had a narrow stripe on the outside of the legs in class colors. There were no pockets in the tunics.

Cloaks, black and floor length were made of heavy, thick material for winter and light, breezy material for summer, had pockets, four on the outside and eight on the inside. The environment in and around the school was nice so that only the summer cloaks were worn there, and then, only in classes, where one was required.

Mark heard a voice on his right side. It was Tim.

"Very good. Five minutes to spare. Find a booth and have breakfast. Meet me at the signet shop at eight sharp. Remember now, one minute, one point. Do not be late."

"There aren't any clocks here." Mark pointed around at all the walls.

"That is right."

"How are we supposed to tell time?"

"You do not need a clock to tell time. If you are having too much trouble, then watches are allowed for freshmen. Only, you have to have lost fifty points or more for being late. You will get used to it. It is not hard. Just start taking notice of when things happen. Your internal clock will take over. Just let it happen."

Tim saw a group of his students that had just shown up. "Very good. Four minutes to spare. Get some breakfast and meet me at the signet shop at eight sharp. Remember, one minute, one point." He turned his attention back to Mark and his companions. "You guys had better go and get some breakfast."

"Yes sir."

Mark, Chenoa, Nick and Jamal sat down together in one of the booths. None of them picked up a menu to look at.

The waitress was Shana. Black slacks and a white shirt seemed to be her standard attire. "You ready to order?"

Mark said, "North Carolina please. Scrambled eggs, biscuit and orange juice."

Jamal said, "New York. Blueberry bagel with cream cheese and black coffee."

Nick said, "Kansas. Eggs over easy, blueberry muffin and milk."

Chenoa said, "Virginia. Eggs over easy, grits and coffee."

Shana said, "Let me take a guess. You each ordered from your home state."

All four nodded their heads.

"It's rare that a freshman doesn't do that at their first breakfast here. Everyone feels the same. You've come to a strange place. It's a lot different than what you're used to. Everybody misses the familiar feel of home. You'll feel a lot better when you get that first letter from home."

Jamal leaned across the table toward Mark. "Tim says _everybody_ dreamed about you. I know dreams are important to Magi, but why did _everybody_ dream about you?"

"I don't know. All of this is new to me. I didn't even know what Magi were until yesterday."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No. I'm not kidding."

"I thought everybody knew what Magi were."

Chenoa said, "You've heard of the wise men that brought gold, frankincense and myrrh to the Christ Child, haven't you?"

"You mean the three kings from the Orient?"

"Yeah, that's it. Only, there were twelve. They were the Council of Elders from The First Mountain."

"They were Magi?"

"Duh..."

"There're seven mountains?"

Nick said, "Yeah, and seven orphanages. Each mountain sponsors an orphanage."

"That means that there are a lot of Magi."

"More than a million formally trained Magi and more than ten million thaumaturgies and apprentices."

"What are thumb... a-tar-gies?"

"Thau - ma - ter - gies. They are Magi who trained as an apprentice under a Magi. Normally, they aren't as skilled as formally trained Magi."

"How come nobody knows about them?"

"Magi keep themselves secret. That's part of being a Magi."

Shana was at the next booth, taking their orders. She finished and Mark asked, "Why did everyone dream about me?"

"Now that's a real mystery, that is. Nobody knows for sure."

"What does it mean?"

"It can only mean one thing. We are meant to know who you are and that you are the one that is supposed to have that staff."

"What's the staff for?"

"Nobody knows that either. It has to be important, though."

"Mr. Thorpe, the algebra teacher, says that it's a mystery to the Council of Elders, too. He says that they think Benrah is after this staff." Mark raised the staff a little. "He says that every artifact that Benrah collects increases his power."

"If Mr. Thorpe says that Benrah is after that staff, well, all I have to say is you had better keep a close eye on it."

"Benrah? Who is Benrah?" Chenoa was leaning toward Mark.

"Mr. Thorpe says his name means 'The Son of Evil.' He's also called Teknon Kakos. That means the same thing. That's all I know."

Shana said, "That's right. He's the most evil thing that has ever existed and that's no blarney."

"What's he want the staff for?" Nick was in on the conversation now.

"I don't know. Mr. Thorpe says that part of it is missing." Mark held up the staff and pointed to the bottom of it. "That's all I know about it."

"Aye, we don't know that either. Mr. McGraw, the museum curator, would love to study it. So would the guys in the science and engineering section. Mrs. Shadowitz has ordered that the staff is to be left with you. The Council of Elders believes that it is important for you to have that staff at all times."

"I didn't know how important it was."

"Well, now you know. Mind ya, keep it safe." Shana turned and walked off.

"So, you're from North Carolina. Tell me about your family." It was obvious that Jamal was changing the subject.

"My dad is a Marine. My mom is nice. My brother is adopted. How about your family."

"My family lives in New York. My grandfather came here from Ethiopia. My father was born in New York. My mother's family has lived here so long that she doesn't know where her family came from. My elder brother, Idaltu, has finished school here. My grandfather wanted us to go to The Third Mountain, in Africa, but my father said no, The Seventh Mountain is better."

Chenoa said, "My family is Occoneechee, related to the Sioux and Black Foot. We live in southern Virginia. My father and grandfather are Magi."

Nick said, "My family lives in Kansas. I have a brother here, Ivan. He is a sophomore, first level. My grandparents came here from Serbia."

Mark looked at Jamal. "Why do you ask about our families?"

"My grandfather took me to Ethiopia when I was young. He took me to a herd of goats and said, "You see the goats. They are all together. Never far. Family.'" Jamal held his hand out and brought his fingers together like he was picking an invisible grape. "He took me to the chicken house and said, 'You see the chickens. They are all together. Family.'" Jamal made the same motion with his hand. "He uncovered a mouse nest with his rod. 'The mice, all together. Family.' He took me to the plain and said, 'See the lions. All together. Family. Family is important. Never forget what I have shown you.' Ever since then, family has been important to me."

Chenoa said, "Family is important. If the Occoneechee families had not stayed together as families and hidden during the time of The Trail of Tears, then they would no longer exist. It's through family that the knowledge of the Occoneechee has survived."

Jamal said, "You know a lot about Occoneechee history."

"Not really, my dad tells stories sometimes. He knows a lot about Occoneechee legend."

"I wish I knew more about Ethiopian legend."

Shana returned and sat the plates down on the table. The group ate fast in order to make it to the signet shop on time.

* * *

At the signet shop Tim said, "We will wait out here. Mr. Diefenderfer will be here at exactly 8 o'clock."

Mr. Diefenderfer walked up to the shop. "Ah... good morning... Tim... and young Magi. You may enter... and make... your selections. If I may give advice... young Magi... make a selection... that speaks meaning... to who you are. You will... after... making your selection... be required... to articulate... and expound upon... that very meaning. Your counselor... Tim... will hear your words... and judge... the truth of them. If he agrees... then... and only then... will your selection... be accepted." With that, he opened the door to let everyone in.

Mark and Nick followed Mr. Diefenderfer to the drawer where he had stored the rings that they had selected. They took the rings back outside to show Tim.

Nick showed his first.

"What does this mean to you?" Tim examined the emblem.

"I like it."

"I know that. What does it mean to you?"

"It doesn't mean anything special. I just like it."

"Take it back in and look for one that has a special meaning to who you are. Let me see yours, Mark"

He handed the ring to Tim. "I like the lion on the mountaintop. My dad has a tattoo just like it. Whenever I'm with my dad, I know that I'm safe. I also think that it has special meaning to him, too. I don't really know. He never talked about it. It's like it's part of my family."

"It is a part of your family. That crest has been in existence for thousands of years. Take it back in so that you can have your name put in it. Then you can head over to the bookstore and get your textbooks. You can also pick up anything on your list today except for the class tunics. You don't know your tribe colors yet. Class tunics have to be in tribe colors. Oh, and it is also best to wait on getting the telescope until later. I will see you at lunch."

Mark bought most of the stuff on his list except for clothing and a telescope. He bought a backpack to put it all in. That made it much easier to carry. He went back to the barracks and put all of the things into his footlocker.

He used the stairs next to the barracks to go down to the first level and back to The Oasis. He got to the bottom and heard a strange sounding voice.

"That looks good to eat."

He looked around. No one was there. He stepped toward the corridor at the bottom of the stairs. He looked around the corner and there she was. She was crouching low, stalking him. _Was it the lioness that spoke_? Terror gripped his mind. He knew, in a flash, that she meant to eat him. He couldn't help but think to himself, _I wonder what I taste like?_

The strange voice answered. "I don't know what you taste like. I'm hungry. My babies are hungry."

Mark was startled at the response. He had to think fast.

"If you eat me, then they are going to kill you. What about your babies?"

The sentence formed clearly in Mark's mind. "My babies are hungry. They must eat."

"What would they like to eat?"

"My milk. I have no milk. I must eat."

"What would you like to eat?"

"You."

Mark saw her hind legs tensing, pulsing up and down; preparing for the leap and the kill.

"Besides me. If you eat me they will kill you. What about your babies?"

An image of a gazelle, running across an open plain, came into his mind.

"Is that what you want?"

There was no answer. The image of the gazelle persisted in Mark's mind. He could actually smell it.

"Show me where you stay and where your babies are. I'll see what I can do about getting you some gazelle to eat. I'm sure I can get some at The Oasis."

Her hind legs raised, slightly, one after the other, claws flexing. She was trying to dig in to the stone floor before her pounce. He felt her overpowering hunger deep in his mind.

"If you kill me, they'll kill you. I can get you something to eat."

Her hind legs relaxed. "My babies must eat."

"Show me where you live. I'll get you something to eat."

She relaxed, stood and turned. The door leading outside had been propped open with a mop. Mark followed the lioness out onto the grounds. She led him across the wide expanse of desert sand to the outer wall. It had to have been at least a mile to the barrier.

She disappeared through a doorway that was formed by the wall overlapping and not touching. Mark followed her through. For a second, he thought that he was back in North Carolina. There were vast fields full of crops. He saw wheat, corn, soybeans and hay. The rest was too far away for him to make out what it was.

"There you are. We have been looking all over for you. Where have you been?" The man in the gray tunic hadn't noticed Mark.

"She's hungry." The guy was evidently startled by Mark's voice. He had been leaning over talking to the lioness. He jumped and then straightened up to look at Mark. He was a rather ugly man with greasy hair and a pock marked face. His caked, moldering teeth were chipped and ragged and his breath was foul, smelling of onions and garlic. His unkempt fingernails were loaded with dirt; in fact, he was very dirty all over.

"I know she's hungry, I've been looking for her for a solid week. Hey, students aren't allowed out here. You need to leave."

"Okay, I'm going. I promised her some gazelle. Can you get her some?"

"She'll get what we give her and that's all."

"I promised her that she would get gazelle. That's what she wants."

"I said that she would get what we give her. We feed the lions good. Besides, we don't have any gazelle here."

The man bent and rubbed the lioness on her back and under her chin.

Mark said, "Did you know that she was in the school? She was getting ready to pounce on me before I promised her some gazelle."

"Oh! That's a big no-no." The gamekeeper put his hands on her cheeks and shook his head, changing his voice as if he were talking to a baby. "She shouldn't be anywhere near the school except during a flags match."

"Well, she was in the school and was going to pounce on me. I promised to get her some gazelle. I'm going to keep my promise."

The filthy man stood back up and stepped up to Mark. His breath made Mark take a step back.

"How many times do I have to tell you, we don't got no gazelle?"

Mark said, "You can get her some."

"Who are you to be telling me what I can and can't do?"

"I didn't mean it to sound that way. I just meant that a Magi can get anything they want to eat."

"I'm not a Magi."

"I thought everyone here was a Magi."

"Nope."

"Sorry, I didn't know."

He looked back at the lioness and scratched his head before looking back at Mark.

"Hey, you can talk to animals, can't you?"

"I don't know if you could call it talking or not. I can see what's in her mind and she understands me."

"Yeah, I thought so. Do you know where her cubs are? We haven't been able to find them since they were born."

"No, but I'm sure that if you ask her, after she has eaten her gazelle, that she will take you to them."

"You're just thick headed. We don't got no gazelle!"

"I'll get her some. Meet me at the Oasis and I'll give it to you for her."

"No. I'm taking her back. You, get out of here! I've got work to do."

Mark started back across the grounds toward The Oasis. He remembered a time that he was being chased by Keith Green and his gang of bullies. He had been dumped over a chain link fence into the yard of Beaufort, a particularly vicious German Shepherd dog. He somehow knew that the dog wouldn't hurt him. It was as if the dog had projected that thought into his mind.

Mark smiled when he remembered another time that the dog did get a denim chew toy from the seat of one of the bully's pants. Mark had not thought about that incident again, until now.

Beaufort's not chewing him up made more sense now. He wondered if he had had the ability to understand animals all along and just not known it, or if it was something special about being a Magi here at the school.

Back at The Oasis, Mark found Nick, Chenoa and Jamal. They were at a booth eating lunch. He sat down with them.

"Where have you been? We looked all over the place for you." Chenoa seemed a little agitated.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me. I might surprise you."

Mark motioned for everyone to lean in close. "Okay. I was leaving the barracks after putting my things up. I heard this strange voice say, 'That looks good to eat.' I looked around and no one was there. I looked around the corner and there was a lioness. She was going to eat me. I heard her voice in my head. She said she had to eat so she could feed her babies. I promised her a gazelle instead of me. She led me back to her keeper. I tried to make him promise to get her a gazelle... I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

Jamal said, "That's the Tongue of Balaam, the ability to speak to animals. Not ten Magi in all the world have had that ability in the last thousand years. That's amazing."

"I want to keep it a secret for now. People think that I'm weird enough as it is, having dreamed about me and everything."

The waitress came back to the table. It was Shana. "You ready to order?"

Mark looked at Jamal. "What's good to eat in Ethiopia?"

"Oh man, you have to try the dabo kolo; I call them Ethiopian cookies, very spicy. They are little fried biscuits with pepper; they are so good. The yedoro watt is chicken with a berbere sauce; it's tremendous. If they let you, try the tej. It's like a real weak honey wine."

Mark looked at Shana. "What he said, if that's okay, and a side of gazelle."

"If they have a no alcohol version of the tej, would you like that?"

"Yes ma'am. If not, then just a lemonade from anywhere that is convenient."

"How do you want your side order of gazelle cooked?"

"I don't want a side order of gazelle, I want an entire side of gazelle, you know, like a side of beef."

Shana titled her head and chuckled. "I have to ask, why in the world would you want a whole side of gazelle?"

"I met one of the game keepers and I told him that I would get some gazelle for one of the lionesses. She just had cubs and he just found her. He'd been looking for her for a week."

"So, you want me to give him the gazelle."

"Yes ma'am, please."

"Which game keeper was it?"

"He didn't tell me his name, but he's got a rough looking face and bad teeth."

"That's Albert, the head game keeper. It's unusual that students ever meet him; he keeps to himself and the animals mostly. How'd you meet him?"

Mark didn't really want to tell her but he could see no way around it. "If I tell you, can you keep it a secret?"

"I don't know; it depends on what it is."

Mark motioned for her to lean in close and she did. He whispered the story to her.

Shana said, "That's very unusual. I'll have to tell Mrs. Shadowitz at least. I'll keep it secret from everyone else though, if that's what you want."

"Yes ma'am. That's what I want."

"Okay then, I'll remanifest with the gazelle over to the game preserve and give it to Albert."

"Thank you."

Shana left and Tim came up to the booth. His toothy grin was shining through his beard. "You guys get the rest of the day off. Be back here at seven tomorrow morning. You can do whatever you like, but I suggest that you explore a little. You can go back to the barracks and socialize if you like. Just be back here tomorrow morning at seven."

Mark pulled out his map of the first level.

Nick said, "I looked at the map of the first level. There's a swimming pool, a gym, bowling alley, skate park, a movie theatre, a game room and a bunch of other stuff here."

"What's this thing outside called The Island?"

Nick said, "That's for flags matches, it's where the bonus flag is."

"What's a flags match?"

"It's kind of like football on horseback except there's a flag instead of a ball and four teams instead of two."

Chenoa said, "It's nothing like football. There's no downs, the field isn't marked, there's no quarterback or anything like that. The object is to get the flag and keep the other teams from getting it. That's all."

"Hey, I didn't mean to cause an argument. I just asked a question."

Nick said, "Okay, well, let's go see The Island and we can explain it better."

"After we see The Island, maybe you can show us where that lioness took you." Chenoa smiled at Mark.

"Okay. Maybe you can look for footprints or something. I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

"No. I believe you. I just want to see where she went."

They went out the door closest to The Oasis. The Island was supposed to be on the other side of the mountain, according to the map. They started walking toward it. After a few minutes, Mark stopped and pointed toward the distant wall. "What's that?"

Nick said, "It looks like a dust devil. We get them all the time in Kansas."

After watching the cloud of dust in the distance for a few moments Chenoa said, "That's not a dust devil. It's horses. They're coming straight at us."

They watched while four horses galloped up to them and stopped. Three of the horses kneeled. The black stallion walked straight up to Mark and reared. Mark somehow knew that there was no danger and reached his arm out to the magnificent animal. The horses were wearing headdresses. The stallion had twelve different gemstones on his headdress. The other three had a single emerald stone in each of theirs.

"Wow, you are one beautiful horse. What's your name?" Mark paused for an answer. There was no sound like with the lioness. An image simply formed in his mind. The mental picture was of Mark and his companions riding the horses.

"I think they want us to ride them. I've never ridden a horse before. How do you get on? There's no saddle or anything."

Chenoa said, "I can get on by myself. I'll help you guys up." She went over to Mark and clasped her hands together between her knees. Mark mounted the stallion with her help. She helped the other two boys up and then she mounted the remaining horse herself. "Grab the mane, gently, and hold yourself on the horse with your knees."

"They must have come to us for a reason. Maybe they want to show us something." Marked leaned forward and spoke to the stallion. "Take us to where you want to go."

The stallion responded by starting to walk toward The Island. The other three horses followed.

Several groups of students had left for The Island before they had come outside. They all looked like freshmen. Evidently, a lot of them wanted to walk over to The Island. Every one of them stopped, dead still, watching when Mark and his friends sauntered past them.

Fifteen minutes later, about half way out to The Island, another horse and rider came galloping up to the group. This horse was saddled. This new horse was a wearing headdress, too. It had a single gemstone in the headdress. Mark could see that it was striped and multi-colored. The rider was someone that he recognized, Gerod.

"Where did you get these horses?"

"They came to us when we came out of the school and started walking to The Island. We'll get off if we've done something wrong." Mark wasn't sure what was going on.

"This is very unusual, very unusual... Mark, you have been summoned to the Council of Elders. They will probably want to see you three as well. Follow me back to the school."

Apprehension grabbed Mark's stomach and pulled it tight, then twisted it into a knot. _I'm in trouble and I don't even know what I did wrong. Riding the horses felt so right._

The four horses followed Gerod and his mount without having to be directed.

"Oh, we are in trouble now. We are summoned to the Council of Elders. They only handle the most important matters." Jamal sounded nervous.

"I don't think that we have done anything wrong. After all, the horses came to us. We didn't steal them or anything." Nick sounded nervous too.

"There is no need to worry about it. They will tell us what it is all about soon enough." Chenoa sounded confident, but Mark suspected that she was nervous as well.

They rode back to the school and dismounted. Gerod said, "The horses will go back to the stables on their own. Follow me."

The council chambers were in the center of the school on all levels. Level one and two were used for hearings and judgment. Level three contained offices adjacent to the healing ward. Level four and up served various administrative functions. Gerod had taken them to the level one entrance, the entrance for someone to be heard and judged.

Mark's stomach tightened more. _We're being put on trial and we haven't done anything wrong._

Gerod ushered the group into the Council of Elders' Chamber. They entered and saw that it was one big, empty room. A single area in the middle of the floor was all that was illuminated in the stark court. The elders sat high above, looking down on their victims.

"I have brought Mark Young before the Council as commanded. I have brought his companions as well. Recent events testify about these four."

A female voice sounded from above. "What are these events that you speak of?"

"These three have been pre-chosen by the Emerald Equestrian Captains. Mark Young has been pre-chosen by... The General himself."

Silence. Mark thought, _Pre-chosen, what does that mean?_

The female voice from above said, "Never in the history of The Seven Mountains has a student been pre-chosen by an equestrian. Never, until..." The voice had been about to say something and suddenly stopped.

"Balaam was pre-chosen by a donkey. Balshazar was pre-chosen by a camel. An ox pre-chose Wong Lee. Never has anyone been pre-chosen by a horse, let alone a general. It also has been more than a thousand years since a Magi was capable of Rooack Dabar, spirit speak, a very rare gift indeed."

More silence heightened their foreboding.

The female voice spoke again. "Chenoa Day... Nikola Poparov... Jamal Terfa... you were presented here today because you have had an honor bestowed upon you that is far and away above any honor that this academy could ever bestow. We must confer on the meaning and the great importance of this event. We will summon you again when we have reached a conclusion on how to acknowledge these matters. You are free to go until such time that you are summoned to appear again before this council."

The door that they had entered opened. Gerod led Chenoa, Nick and Jamal out of the chambers. The door closed behind them leaving Mark alone in the spotlight.

"Mark Young... the honor bestowed upon your companions is indeed, very significant. Your honor is far greater. The General commands the twelve equestrian tribes. Being pre-chosen by The General is an honor beyond words. You too, will be summoned again before this council when we have reached a conclusion on these matters. You were originally summoned here to inquire about your ability with Rooack Dabar. Would you demonstrate that ability now?"

_Whew! I'm not on trial._ "I'm sorry. I don't know how it works."

"Try and recall an emotional event. See it again in your mind's eye."

Mark brought to mind the event of his father telling the story of how his brother James had lost his parents.

"That truly is a sad happenstance, Mark Young. We know the truth of it. James's great, great, great, great grandfather is a Magi. It is a shame that his parents could not be helped. We will consult the Ummim-Thummim Stone on this matter. You will be summoned here again after we have studied this. Hopefully, we will be able to shed some light on your destiny. You are free to go now."

The door opened and Mark left. Gerod was waiting for him in the corridor. "Wait here until I return."

Gerod opened the door and entered the chamber. It took only a moment for him to return.

"You have been pre-chosen by The General. Your companions have been pre-chosen by the Emerald Equestrian. They are of the Emerald Tribe now. Since you were pre-chosen by The General, he represents all tribes. You are free to choose which tribe you will belong to. You are also free to choose no tribe. The choice is yours."

"How long do I have to think about it?"

"Students are presented to the equestrian's captains on the fourth day of orientation. The captain chooses the student. I would say that you have until the end of that day."

"That's okay. I would like to stay with my friends. I choose the Emerald Tribe."

"I'll inform the council of your decision." Gerod grinned. He put his hand on Mark's shoulder. "You can get your class tunics now. So can your companions. I don't know what to say. Congratulations, just doesn't do it. 'Wow!' sums it up pretty well."

Mark forced a half-hearted smile. "Thank you, but why didn't you tell us what this was all about?"

"That's not the way that it is done. If you were in trouble, believe me, you would have known it long beforehand."

_That's a rotten way to do things, pull you into the Council of Elders and not tell you why_. Mark nodded and instinctively started walking toward The Oasis. He didn't stop to ponder the events that had happened to him that day; he just wanted the company of his friends. He wanted to know what they were thinking about the event. He approached the entrance to The Oasis and heard an all too familiar voice, Ralph Lawrence.

"Where're you going, Mark? I have someone I want you to meet."

_What is it now, Ralph?_ The last time that someone had said that to him was followed by a stiff punch to the head and being thrown into a vicious dog's yard. Mark stopped, paused, and then turned to look at Ralph. This time, not only were Ricky and Keith with him, there were three others.

"This is Slone Voif and Bruce Spencer and Adolph VonBruin." Ralph pointed them out as he spoke their names.

Slone was muscular and tall. His long dark hair hung loose across his shoulders. He smirked and nodded ever so slightly when Ralph spoke his name. Bruce was about Mark's size. His buzz cut blond hair made him look almost bald. He folded his arms across his chest when Ralph said his name. Adolph was stocky and thick, not fat, but thick.

Mark thought that Ralph wanted to make sure that the odds were well in his favor. He recognized this as conventional bully tactics. He prepared himself for the confrontation.

"What do you want, Ralph?"

Slone answered instead of Ralph. "You've got brains and guts. What you did to Ralph, Ricky and Keith was clever. We've just come to ask you to join our little group."

"Thanks, but no thanks." Mark turned to leave.

"Mark..." Slone's voice was low and calculated.

Mark paused in his step.

"Are you sure? This might be the only time that I'm going to ask. You'll regret it if you don't."

Mark didn't look back but kept walking to his original destination.

* * *

Nick, Jamal and Chenoa were sitting in their usual booth, waiting for Mark. Nick spoke first when Mark sat down. "Wow, what do you think it means?"

"I don't know."

Chenoa spoke next. "I think that it all has something to do with you. You were chosen by that stallion with all those stones in its headdress. He must be a general like the Council of Elders said."

"That's what they called him when you guys left, too, The General. They said that he was in charge of the twelve tribes of horses. I guess that is what the gems in his headband mean. They said that the Emerald horses chose you all. That means that you are in the Emerald Tribe. The General chose me. That meant that I could choose any tribe that I wanted to. I could even choose to not be in a tribe. I chose the Emerald Tribe."

Jamal said, "There has to be something special going on here. Stuff like this doesn't happen without reason."

Tim walked up, unnoticed. "That is right." His voice confirmed the mystery. "I just heard about it from Gerod... That is some kind of special. Nobody knows what it means yet. The Council of Elders is going to consult the U.T. stone about it."

Chenoa said, "The U.T. stone? I thought that was a myth."

"What's an U.T. stone?" Nick tilted his head when he asked the question.

"The U.T. stone is real all right. There have only been eight known throughout time, in the entire world. Right now, there are only seven that anyone knows where they are. Each of the seven mountains has one. The eighth one is lost. The way it works is you say something that can be true or not true. Kind of like a yes or no question but not a question. You toss it down. If the fire side shows then the statement was an untruth. It's always right. It has never been wrong, not ever."

"Is it like dice or something?" Nick tilted his head the other way.

"No. It is flat, kind of like a cracker or something like that. At any rate, we have to wait for the Council of Elders to shed some light on the matter. We do know your tribe now, so let us go and get your class tunics. You will be sleeping in the Emerald Dormitory tonight. I will show you where that is."

They followed Tim and bought all of their tunics. Tim took them to the Emerald Dormitory. The common room was exactly like the barracks except that all of the tables, chairs and decorations were green. The students who were there looked at the foursome when they entered. No one said anything for the longest time.

Mark thought that he would break the awkward silence. He raised his hand to wave at no one in particular. "Hi. I'm Mark Young." The crowd drew in around them. They all began speaking at once, saying their names and offering greetings. The news had traveled quickly; the four companions were celebrities.

"Ah... we need to put our stuff up." The boys followed Mark, Jamal and Nick into the boys' dorm hall. Chenoa followed the girls into the girls' dorm hall. The hall had individual rooms, more like cabins.

Someone called out, "Your room is all the way at the end."

A green door at the end of the long hall had the names Nikola Poparov, Jamal Terfa and Mark Young painted on it. The paint looked like it was still wet.

"Looks like we're roommates." Jamal grinned at the other two.

Inside were their three beds with the headboards set against the wall and re-made-up with green blankets and green pillowcases. There were three full-size, business-type desks on the opposite wall, complete with padded swivel chairs. Empty bookshelves lined every bit of wall space, four feet high and up. The entrance to the bathroom was on the far wall from the entrance door.

Mark thought that he might leave the staff in the room. Then he thought better of it. The three friends left their room together and returned to the waiting crowd in the hall.

Questions pounded the three when they re-entered the hall. Mark said, "Let's go sit down in the common room and we'll tell you all of the story."

After about an hour's worth of storytelling and answering questions, nobody posed any more queries.

Mark said, "I have a question. Can someone tell me about flags matches?"

Everyone spoke at once. It seemed that everyone wanted to tell what they knew.

A tall girl walked up to Mark. She looked familiar, but he just couldn't place her. Her voice silenced the crowd. Her brown eyes showed a hint of luminosity. They were nowhere as near as bright as the teacher's or counselor's eyes, but there was a definite glow about them. Her thick, wavy dark brown, almost black hair stretched way past her shoulders and down to her waist.

"Hi. I'm Krisa, the Emerald Team's captain. What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"Well... the matches are held on the last Saturday of the month while school is in. The finals are held during the summer. The playing field is the entire school grounds. The object of the game is to return a flag that has been launched onto the field, to your base. The game is played on horseback and on foot. There are as many players as you want but only twelve riders at a time on each of the four competing teams. The team and the individual player score the point value of the flag when it is returned to base. Flags can be captured from another team's base. Flag values increase one point each time a new flag is launched onto the field. There is a bonus flag worth one hundred and forty four points. It's on The Island and it's guarded by wild animals. The animals change every match. You score points by keeping the flags that you bring back. There are two basic rules. You can't kill and you can't remanifest. You might want to read a book or two on it." She went to the bookshelves and pointed. "This whole section is books about flags matches. Tryouts are this Saturday."

Krisa's explanation seemed awkward and was too fast to take it all in. Mark knew that he would catch on in due course and didn't ask any questions.

"Thank you." Mark went to the bookshelf and looked over some of the titles. He decided that he would read _Omar's Strategy Guide for Flags_ and _Flags Through the Ages_ first. He left them on the shelf for now.

Mark turned and looked at the crowd. "I think I'll go and get supper now." He walked to the door. Chenoa, Nick and Jamal joined him.

### Chapter 9

# I Think Therefore...

_Trouble seeks the unwitting, and finds those unprepared_.

The next morning the group made it to breakfast with time to spare. Someone had knocked on their bedroom doors to wake them up.

Tim was there waiting for them as expected. He was his usual bright-eyed self. "Meet me on the top floor of the bookstore at eight. Today we are going to get your telescopes. After that, I am going to take you to the observatory on top of the mountain where you can set it up."

Mark walked up to Tim. "I was wondering, since we have already been chosen, do we need to attend the choosing event?" Jamal, Nick and Chenoa walked up beside Mark, waiting for Tim's answer.

"Well, I do not know." Tim looked down at the floor in thought, and then looked back up. "It has never come up before. I can see no reason that you should have to attend. I would think that you would want to go just to see the folks that get chosen to be in your tribe."

"Okay, where's the best place to watch from?"

"I guess you can sit in the bleachers. Best take your binoculars with you."

"How do you get to the bleachers?"

"Observatory level. You will see how to get there this morning. That is where you will set up your telescope."

Mark nodded. "Okay, thanks. We'll see you in the bookstore."

The group followed Mark. A couple of steps away from Tim, Chenoa leaned toward Jamal and whispered. "I don't think he has any intention of sitting in the bleachers and watching the choosing."

Jamal answered, "I think that I agree with you. It would not be my first choice either. What do you think he is going to want to do?"

Nick leaned in and said, "I don't know about him, but I don't want to sit in the sun all day. I'd rather be sitting somewhere in the shade with a nice, cool, umbrella drink." This was very odd for Nick because he always considered umbrella drinks to be adult beverages.

They reached their booth and sat down. Mark said, "I was just thinking. I don't want to sit in the sun on those bleachers all day. I'd rather find a nice shady spot and watch. Maybe some place where we can get some iced drinks, you know, the kind with the little umbrellas in them. My grandfather used to make them for me, lemonade, a splash of cherry, a couple of pieces of pineapple tossed in and a little umbrella as a decoration."

Chenoa leaned toward Mark with a surprised look on her face. "You heard us talking, didn't you?"

Mark was puzzled. He hadn't heard them talking. "No, I didn't hear you talking. What were you saying?"

"We, the three of us, were just speculating on what you would want to do. I mean, I just thought that you wouldn't want to watch the choosing from the bleachers. Jamal agreed with me and Nick said that he would rather sit in a shady spot with an umbrella drink."

"That was exactly what I was thinking when we were walking over here. The Council of Elders said I had the ability of spirit speak. They called it... Rooack Dabar. Let's try something else." Mark tried to think of the strangest thing that he could. He pictured in his mind, Tim ballet dancing in purple tights and a green tutu.

Chenoa's face wrinkled up and she squinted her eyes. "That's absolutely disgusting!"

Nick's face was in his hands and he was shaking his head. "She's right. I could have gone my whole life without seeing that and been happy."

Jamal piped in. "What were you thinking, man? No, wait; I know what you were thinking. I just don't know why."

Tim walked up, leaned over and put his hands on the table. "That was not very nice. I guess that I am lucky that not many people are here."

Mark blushed and looked down at the table. He was trying real hard to suppress a grin. "I'm sorry, Tim. I just tried to think of something where I could be sure that these guys were reading my thoughts. It just popped into my head." When Mark looked back up he saw that Nick, Jamal and Chenoa had their hands over their mouths, trying to keep from laughing.

"Well, I reckon that it was funny. I have never thought of myself as a ballet dancer. I guess that is a good thing. At any rate, you need to be careful with what you think, at least up front, anyway."

Mark's expression changed to a serious tone. "How can I control what I think? I mean, what I think is what I think."

Tim knelt beside the table. "Only what you think in the front of your mind is what people can hear. It works best in the morning when everybody's mind is usually clear. I will say something to Mr. Diefenderfer about this. He can give you some exercises to help you control it. Just be careful of what you think up front until you get the hang of it."

Shana walked up to the table grinning at Tim. She put her hands over her head so that her fingertips touched. Then she tiptoed a couple of quick steps, still grinning at Tim.

Tim shook his head. "It is going to take a long time to live this one down. You got me. I guess that I should award you a couple of points for a practical joke, even though you did not mean to do it." He stood up and walked back to his post at the door, all the while slowly shaking his head.

Shana looked at Mark. "Tim's right you know. What you think can be used against you."

Mark looked at her and said, "I see what you mean." He was thinking of how his thoughts would telegraph his intentions to an opponent.

Shana understood what Mark was thinking. She nodded her head. "That's right. And there are more subtle ways to use it against you."

Mark tried thinking the question to her. How do you mean?

"Well, for example, Chenoa already knows that you think that she is cute. She could use that knowledge to manipulate you into doing things. Nick already knows that you think he is smart. He could use that to give you bad information at a critical moment. Jamal knows that you think he is wise. He could give you bad advice. Mind you, I'm not saying that this will happen. I'm just using these examples to show you how subtle treachery can be. I don't, in any way, mean to imply anything against your friends. Things like I have just described have happened in the past though. Just be on guard with what you think."

"How far does it reach?"

"I was in the back room getting ready to come out when I picked it up. That's about fifty yards from here. You do have one thing going in your favor though. Most freshmen and first level sophomores will think that what they pick up from you are their own thoughts. It takes a bit of training and experience to recognize foreign thoughts."

"What do you mean, foreign thoughts?"

"Well, your thoughts are foreign to your friends. I mean, they are not their thoughts; they're yours. There are other kinds of foreign thoughts too. For example, have you ever had an idea for an invention or a way of doing something just pop into your head and then sometime in the future see that same thing being done by someone else? You thought that it was an original idea, but it wasn't."

"Yeah! One time I had invented a new trick on my bicycle. I didn't show or tell anyone. Two months later, everyone was doing it."

"That's it. You'll learn about that kind of thing in your communications classes. Okay, enough of that. What would you guys like for breakfast?"

Shana took their orders and left. Mark looked at his friends one by one. "That explains a lot of things."

Nick said, "Yeah... When you helped me with Ralph, I thought it was me thinking what I would like to see you do to him. But... you must have been thinking what you would like to do to him. I liked thinking of him huddled on the ground with you standing over him with that staff. He must have picked up your thoughts and that was why he was so scared. He must have thought that you were going to beat him ugly." Nick paused and grinned at Mark. "Not that he needs any help."

"I guess he did. Do you remember his face when I twirled the staff?"

"Yeah, I do. And about what you're thinking now. That doesn't make you a bully, just because you scared the crap out of him. He was the bully. It was three against one. If you hadn't of showed up when you did, well, I probably would have been beaten up pretty good."

Mark looked at Chenoa. It was a little awkward, but he said, "Yes, Chenoa, I think you're pretty." He remembered the first time that he had seen her sitting at the table waiting for Nick and himself to show up. He remembered how the light had reflected off her hair. Then he remembered seeing her mount that horse with such form and grace, her hair in the sunlight. He saw her smile and blush slightly. He knew that she was picking up his thoughts. He knew everyone else was too, but he didn't care at the moment.

He turned and looked at Jamal. He remembered how Jamal told the story of how his grandfather had instructed him on the importance of family. In his mind he brought his fingers together, as in plucking an invisible grape. Jamal made the same motion. Then he thought of something that his dad had once told him. He thought, Curiosity brings knowledge, knowledge brings understanding, and understanding brings wisdom. Your grandfather has an understanding of how important family is. You, accepting that knowledge and sharing it with your friends; that is wisdom.

"It's strange knowing other people know what you're thinking."

Breakfast was solemn after that. No one hardly said another word until it was almost time to leave.

Nick folded the cloth napkin that had been in his lap and wiped his mouth. "I guess we had better get a move on." He tossed his napkin onto his plate, punctuating his sentence.

* * *

The seventh level in the bookstore displayed all kinds of optical instruments. There were display racks full of binoculars, sextants, spotting scopes and all kinds of instruments that Mark had never seen or heard of before.

Tim walked up to Mark. "If you see something that you like, then you can take it out onto the balcony and check it out." Tim motioned toward the binoculars and spotting scopes.

Mark looked at Tim as he took a pair of binoculars off of the display. "Thanks. What kind should I get?"

"It all depends on what you like. Myself, I use a five to thirty power zoom scope. Anything over thirty power is too hard to hold still. Although, you could use a tripod to hold it still, but that kind of defeats the purpose."

Tim reached in front of himself and then slowly brought his hand back toward himself. A long spotting scope appeared in his hand out of nowhere.

"This is it if you want to look at it."

Marks eyes widened with surprise. "How'd you do that?"

"How did I do what? Oh, you mean Aaron's Grasp. You will learn to do that this year. It is not hard. First, you need to understand the connections between your mind, your body and your spirit. I tell you, it is a lot easier than learning to remanifest. Now that was hard."

Mark motioned toward the spotting scope. "Can I check it out?"

"Okay, I will go out on the balcony with you."

Out on the balcony, Tim handed Mark his scope. "Here you go. I will be back in a minute. If I remember right, you like lemonade."

"Yes or iced tea."

Mark surveyed the vista that stretched beyond the wall. Three distinct and very different areas were separated by walls that were as tall as the wall that separated the school grounds from the rest of the world.

Off to the left was an expanse of green grass as far as the eye could see. The binoculars showed it to be rolling hills and sections of woods. Straight ahead was a jumble of tans, beiges, browns and yellows that dominated the landscape beyond the wall. This was the area that he had already seen. To the right was a patchwork of farm fields looking very much like pictures that he had seen, of farmland taken from high above. Everything that was visible was too far away to make out any detail, even with the binoculars.

Mark held the spotting scope to his eye. He pushed the zoom lever to the maximum zoom position. He scanned the wall in the distance. He knew that it was about a mile away. He was looking for other places that could be doorways. He thought that if there was one doorway that there were probably others.

The wall was too far away for him to notice any subtle discrepancies that might indicate where another door might be. He tried the binoculars. He couldn't tell any difference between the binoculars and the scope except that with the binoculars he was using two eyes.

He scanned the wall as far around to the left as he could, without moving, when a bit of movement caught his eye. He steadied the binoculars on the balcony wall and saw that the motion was Mr. Thorpe emerging from the doorway that led to the game preserve. Mr. Thorpe was heading straight back to the school. His stride was stiff and pronounced as if he were angry at something and then he just disappeared, remanifesting to a different location.

Tim walked back up. He was carrying two drinks. They both had little umbrellas stuck in the top of the glass. Tim smiled at Mark.

"Yeah, I heard your thoughts about the umbrella drinks, too."

He handed Mark the iced tea. "You and your friends can watch the choosing from up here tomorrow. If Harmonious Thorpe tries to run you off,

just tell him that I gave you permission. If I see him before tomorrow, then I will tell him myself."

"Why would Mr. Thorpe try to run us off?"

"Well, I cannot tell you what I think of Harmonious. It is not polite and it is quite improper for a counselor to say anything about a teacher. But, at any rate, Harmonious had this balcony built. You see, he owns the concession on optical instruments here. That is part of how he wanted to be paid for teaching here. He got tired of having to walk down seven levels to The Oasis whenever he wanted something to eat or drink. There was no place to put a concession up here for food or drinks so he built the balcony. He lets teachers, instructors and staff use it to watch flags matches and stuff, and they do since they can buy food or drinks up here, and it is shaded. The roof is the platform for the bleachers. He also lets students use it if they intend to buy an optical instrument. Now, if you four do not happen to find binoculars or scopes that you are pleased with today, well, you can always come back tomorrow. And while you are up here, The Choosing will be going on right down there." He pointed to indicate the place where The Choosing would take place.

"That's downright sneaky, Tim."

Tim grinned and said, "Yeah, I am not very good at being sneaky. Never have been. But I figured that I could do you guys a good turn since I knew what you wanted."

"Well, I need to ask your advice on something. I'm going to think about something that happened yesterday. I want you to tell me what you think."

"All right, have at it."

Mark brought vivid memories of himself encountering the lioness in the corridor to the front of his mind. He remembered the entire incident until he left from the wall. "Well, what do you think that I should do?"

"Well, Albert is sure in trouble. That lioness should not have been anywhere near the school."

"I don't want to get anyone in trouble. I just want to know if being able to talk to animals is normal for a Magi."

"No... no, Balaam's Tongue is a very rare ability. I should inform the Council of Elders at once. They are trying to piece together what all this stuff about you means. Every piece of information helps."

"Does everyone need to know? I mean, everybody already knows that I'm kind of strange and Shana has already told Mrs. Shadowitz."

"I will tell them how you feel about it. I am pretty sure that they will keep it quiet if you want them to."

"Yeah, I do."

"Well, all right then. You go back in and tell your friends what the plan is. And, by the way, the best telescope to get for your group is the Astrotron, the twelve-inch model. It is best to get one telescope to share. And one more thing, you are right about there being other doors in the wall. I am supposed to tell you that they are off limits to students. So, you will get in trouble if you get caught on the other side of the wall. Do you understand?"

Mark said, "Yes. Thanks," and handed Tim back his scope. He went back inside carrying his umbrella drink. He put the binoculars back on the display. His friends weren't hard to find.

Back on the balcony he explained to the group what had just transpired between Tim and himself.

Jamal smiled and said, "I think that telling Tim and Shana about your ability with animals is a good thing. Someone is bound to pick up your thoughts on it and figure it out. Now, it won't bother you."

Mark said, "You're right. It was a bad idea to try and keep it a secret from the Council of Elders."

Chenoa said, "You're still thinking about the wall, aren't you? You want to explore the wall and map the doors."

Mark grinned. "A nice, leisurely horseback ride around the wall can't hurt anything."

Jamal was shaking his head, "You're asking for trouble."

Nick put his hand on Jamal's shoulder. "Where's your sense of adventure. Aren't you curious about what's outside the wall?"

"You know I am. But you know too, that once we are out there, we will have to look through the doors. You can't be that close and not look."

Mark said, "Okay... I'll see if I can get permission to just look through the doors."

No one had noticed the lady dressed in a black tunic with silver trim, standing just outside the door on the balcony. When she spoke, it startled the group.

"That's the right decision." She was a tall lady and overly thin. Her gray hair was done up in a bun with a silver spike through it. The end of the spike had a largish, orange stone on it. "Hello, I'm Theresa Shadowitz, Commander of Jasper Tribe and Chief Elder of this school."

Mark recognized the voice. It was the voice that had spoken to him in the council chambers. Mark started to speak but was cut off by Mrs. Shadowitz.

"Mark, Shana has told me about your encounter with the lioness yesterday. I will inform the Council of Elders only, of this ability, if that is your wish. It is customary that I hear that request directly from you."

"Yes ma'am. That is my wish, only except Gerod. I think Gerod should be told. I think I owe him that, seeing what he did to help my mother and all when I was being born."

"Very well then." She turned and started to leave. She paused with her hand on the door. She had picked up Mark's thoughts just before he was about to speak. "No... you may not have permission to look through those doors in the outer wall. You must be accompanied by a teacher or school staff to do that. Therefore... I will accompany you this afternoon at, shall we say, two. I could do with a nice, leisurely ride. I will meet you at the stables. I will bring a map with me and you can decide where you want to go, from there." She continued through the door without having turned to face the group again.

This turn of events had taken the group by surprise.

Jamal chuckled and said, "I just realized something. So far, everything that we have asked for has been granted in one way or another. It hasn't always happened the way that we might have expected it to; but it happened none-the-less."

Nick rubbed his chin and said, "I think you're right and it makes sense. This is a school. Everything that we have done so far has been related to learning new things."

Chenoa said, "It is kind of strange. It's as if every time that we were thinking about doing something, someone has shown up and kind of guided us the right way."

Mark shook his head. "Don't you get it? It's because of me. They are keeping a close eye on me because I'm different. They know what I'm thinking."

Tim walked up to them from the door that Mrs. Shadowitz had just left by. "That is true to some extent. We are curious about you, not because of your abilities but because there was no foreknowledge about what this is all about. AlHufus Diefenderfer only sang about its happening, not what it was about. You have not gotten any special treatment. All students are curious and want to explore and do new things. It is natural. We accommodate this whenever possible, even if it is inconvenient. That is one of the most important things about being a Magi, helping other people whenever possible. It is so important, that you will start searching for people to help. Over the next eight years you will learn why."

Mark looked at Tim. "Are you saying that this is inconvenient for Mrs. Shadowitz?"

"Not at all. As a matter of fact, she is looking forward to it. She says that she has wanted to find an excuse to go riding. It is one of the things that she enjoys, but seldom gets the chance to do."

"We are supposed to meet her at the stables. Where are they?"

"First door to the left of where the lioness took you. Wait for her by the door. Do not go in without her."

"Okay, thanks."

"You guys need to select a telescope. It is almost time to go topside to the observatory." With that said, Tim started to walk off toward the concession window.

The door to the balcony burst open and Harmonious Thorpe stormed out. "TIM... TIM FAIRBANKS, WHERE ARE YOU?" His profoundly bass voice reverberated off the walls.

Tim turned to face Mr. Thorpe. "I am right here, Harmonious. There is no need to yell."

Mr. Thorpe lowered his tone to a simmering whisper. Mark noticed that his fists were clenched and a vein was bulging on his forehead. "If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times, you will address me as sir, Teacher or Mr. Thorpe."

"Yes sir. But that was as a student. I am not any longer a student. I have been a counselor for twenty-eight years now."

"You are still subordinate to me. You will address me as such. Understood?"

Tim was obviously surprised by this public display of temper. "Yes sir. I understand. You wanted to see me?"

Mr. Thorpe's tone was still seething. "Do you know what one of your little brats has done?"

"I do not know what you are referring to, sir."

"I found lion tracks leading up to and away from the school. The tracks had human tracks going away from the school with them. I followed the tracks to the game preserve. Do you know what that game keeper, what's his name... told me?"

"Albert, sir. Albert is his name. And yes sir, I think I know just about what he told you."

"He told me that the boy with the staff found the lioness and brought her back! Do you have any idea what that means?"

"Yes sir. I do. Mrs. Shadowitz has already been informed."

Evidently Mr. Thorp wasn't listening or didn't care about what Tim had said. "It means that this boy... this prodigy... this... this... this special boy... has no regard for safety, his or anyone else's for that matter."

"Mr. Thorpe, I wish you would not do this here. This is a public place."

"Do you know what else Albert said?"

"Please, Mr. Thorpe. Do not do this here."

"He said that the boy with the staff tried to make him promise to feed the lioness some gazelle... tried to make him promise to give her some gazelle, like he knew what she wanted."

Tim changed his tone from pleading to resolute. "Mr. Thorpe. It is very improper for you to do this here."

Mr. Thorpe ignored Tim and turned to face Mark. He patted his lips with his index finger. His tone was threatening. "That could mean only one thing." He pointed at Mark and shouted. "You knew what the lioness wanted, didn't you boy?" His voice penetrated Mark's every organ.

Mark looked down at his feet and didn't answer Mr. Thorpe.

"Answer me, boy! Answer me, now!"

Mark gathered his resolve. He looked Mr. Thorpe straight in the eye and didn't say a word.

"Boy... I told you to answer me!"

Mark looked at Tim. Tim frowned and nodded his head yes, slightly.

"Yes sir."

"I knew it. You have Balaam's Tongue, don't you boy? You can talk to animals, right?"

"Yes sir."

"Why haven't you told anybody about this? Do you think that you're too special to let anyone know about this?"

Tim saw his chance and broke in. "He has told! Mrs. Shadowitz just has not told you yet."

Mr. Thorpe turned to face Tim. "You knew! Why didn't you tell me?"

"It is not my place, sir. Mr. Young has asked that only the Council of Elders be informed with the exception of Gerod and myself."

Mr. Thorpe wheeled on Mark and aimed his finger at him. "Is this true, boy?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm sorry to hear you say that, boy. That means that I have unknowingly violated a trust." He turned to face Tim again. "And you let me do it, Tim."

"I beg your pardon... sir. I tried to stop you. You just would not listen."

"I don't listen, huh. You will report to the Council of Elders tomorrow at 9 a.m. for a disciplinary hearing. We'll see who listens."

Tim bowed his head. "Yes sir."

"I'm afraid that won't be necessary... Harmonious." Mrs. Shadowitz stood up from behind Chenoa, Nick and Jamal. "I'm afraid that you have pronounced your own fate. I will see you in the Council Chambers tomorrow at 9 a.m. You will face a disciplinary hearing."

"But, ma'am. I didn't mean..."

Mrs. Shadowitz cut him off with a whisper. "Harmonious, do you dare to argue with me?"

"But..." Mr. Thorpe lowered his head. "No ma'am."

Mr. Thorpe turned and started to walk away.

Tim interrupted him. "Ah, Mr. Thorpe. Since these four have been pre-chosen, they have tomorrow off. I have given them permission to return here tomorrow and finish their selection of optics. I just thought that you should know."

After pausing to hear what Tim had to say, he continued walking.

Tim turned to Mark. "I figured that it was a good time to tell him. I do not think that I could have made him any madder."

"Why was he so mad?"

"Well, I am not taking up for him, but you should have told someone as soon as you could have or at least have called for help. A lioness in the school is pretty serious business."

"I guess so. But still, that shouldn't have made him as mad as all that. That was downright mean, what he just did."

"Yeah, but I understand him, the way he thinks. You see, everything to him is black and white, right or wrong. To him, there is no in between, no mitigation and, he is a strict disciplinarian."

"That doesn't make it right."

"I do not think that what he did was wrong. It was no more wrong than that lioness trying to find something to eat. I think that where he chose to do it was wrong. Mrs. Shadowitz is going to take care of that."

"Do you think that he is in a lot of trouble?"

"It is not proper for me to speculate on that. I just know that I would not want to be in his shoes."

Mark gave him a halfhearted smile. "Thanks, Tim."

"You are welcome. Now, you guys can go ahead and get a telescope. We need to get topside and set them up. After you get them set up, you can have the rest of the day to do whatever you like."

### Chapter 10

# Orientation Ends

On any path there are many stones.

After lunch, the group walked to the doorway that led to the stables. It wasn't long after they had reached the doorway that Mrs. Shadowitz walked out of the stable area to meet them. She was holding a large red book that wasn't very thick.

"Well, I see that you have found the stables. I hope you didn't have any trouble."

Mark was eager to see the map book that she was holding. "No, ma'am. Tim told us where the doorway was. Is that the map?"

"Yes, it is. Why don't you four follow me? We can sit in the office while you look at the map and see where you want to go."

They walked through the doorway and a bright green vista opened before them. There was pastureland as far as the eye could see. Off to the right were twelve large barns behind a single-story log cabin. Mark thought that the barns must be the stables and the log cabin the office. They approached the cabin and he could see where a small stream ran behind the stables and off into the distance. An arched bridge crossed to the other side giving easy access to the apple orchard, which was so thick that it was more like a short forest. It looked so inviting; it almost beckoned from the far side of the stream.

Mrs. Shadowitz walked into the cabin, sat down at a large, oval, wooden table, put the map book on the table and slid it toward Mark.

"The map book is divided into sections. Each section is devoted to a particular area of the school. Each area is subdivided according to its purpose. Now, while you look at the map book, I'll go and get a pitcher of lemonade. I'm sure that you are all thirsty after your walk over here."

Mark opened the book to the first page. There was a map showing the school in the middle and the surrounding areas outside of the wall. The other three leaned in and looked at the map. There were twelve areas divided into roughly equal sectors. They were labeled: Stables/Farming, Wasteland, Airfield, Firearms Range, Firearms Combat, Naval Combat, Vehicle Training, Power and Engineering, Urban, Forest, Farming and Game Preserve/Farming. They were surrounded by an area simply labeled, City.

Mark gave a whispered "Wow."

Chenoa pointed to the area of the stables on the map. "This looks the most interesting to me. My vote is that we check out this area."

Jamal voiced his opinion. "I like the game preserve. I'd like to see what kind of animals they have here."

Nick chimed in, "Power generation and engineering is what I want to see."

Mark didn't say anything. He turned the page. The next map was of the underground waterways. It showed a maze of subterranean interconnected waterways. Blue identified the underground streams. Green marked flooded channels. Most of the waterways were green. Mark noticed that one of the green waterways connected with the moat around the Island.

The next page was a legend. It showed all of the symbols and colors that meant different things on the maps. The scale showed that one-half inch represented one mile. Mark realized that the outside grounds must encompass an awful lot of area.

Mark looked up and said, "I want to see it all."

"And so you shall." Mrs. Shadowitz had returned. She was carrying a tray with five glasses and a large pitcher of lemonade. "I've been wanting to get out and ride more. Now I have an excuse to do just that. Shall we say, Saturday afternoons at two?" She was smiling when she sat the tray down on the table. She looked up and pointed to the window.

"It looks like your friends are ready to go."

They all looked at the picture window where she was pointing. Five horses were looking in. The General, a Jasper Tribe horse and three Emerald Tribe horses were saddled and ready to go.

Chenoa was elated. Mrs. Shadowitz said that starting with the stable area seemed the natural thing to do. They would get to explore the other areas in due course.

Mark enjoyed the ride. He had no idea that there were so many horses there. There had to be more than two thousand of them. They had ridden out one side of the pasture and back on the other side. A high wall separated the field and orchard areas from the game preserve and the wasteland area. In between was the greenest, rolling, grazing land that he had ever seen. Horses were everywhere in the lush fields. There were more birds there than he cared to speculate on, mostly starlings, cowbirds and black birds.

* * *

At dinner it was obvious who had enjoyed the ride the most. It was Chenoa. That was all that she wanted to talk about.

"I'm glad we got to do that. I love horses." Chenoa's eyes were bright and excited.

Nick said, "I hope we get to see the engineering section next. Can you imagine what it takes to power this place?"

"They don't need much power in the stables. Horses live off the land." Chenoa was obviously daydreaming.

"So do the other animals. I would like to see the game preserve next." Jamal added his voice.

"We are going to see it all. Why don't we just let Mrs. Shadowitz decide what she wants to show us next?" Mark shrugged while he said this.

"It doesn't matter to me what we see next. I've already seen what I wanted to see." Chenoa was still smiling.

Jamal said, "I agree with Mark. We should let Mrs. Shadowitz decide."

Nick agreed with Jamal. "I think that letting Mrs. Shadowitz decide is the right thing to do."

* * *

The next day, day four of orientation week, was supposed to be an all day event. It was the Day of Choosing. Normally, all 288 new students were to walk, one at a time, into the corral containing the captains of the twelve equestrian tribes. One of the twelve horses would choose a student by walking up to them. That would determine which tribe the student would be assigned to. Today, there would be four less students chosen.

Tim explained the process to them. "The horses are excellent judges of a person's motivation and the underlying reasons that a person thinks, acts, and responds, in general. You see, each tribe represents one of the twelve basic motivations. The students in a particular tribe share the same basic motivation. In theory, they should get along pretty well. In practice, that is not always the case. It has been traditional, down through the ages, to represent each tribe by a gemstone or color. That is supposed to eliminate any preconceptions about a tribe's worth or abilities."

"Later, you will find out what your basic method is. So you have motive and method. Methods are assigned colors as well. You will be assigned a second color to wear. That represents your preferred method of doing things. Your primary color represents motive. Your second color represents method."

They had decided to watch only part of The Choosing Ceremony. They were interested in seeing some of the students who would be joining the Emerald Tribe. One of the girls who were chosen for the Emerald Tribe looked entirely out of place at the school. She was dressed in a black tank top and black knit slacks. Her milky white complexion was a harsh contrast to her clothes. Her hair was a mass of black and white spikes. The Emerald captain met her before she had even entered the corral gate. Someone called out, "LeOmi Jones, Emerald Tribe."

* * * ****

Day five of orientation week was designed for socializing and getting to know other students. The entire day was spent either inside The Oasis or in the dormitory common room. Students wore their tribe colors. They sat at their tribe tables. Assembly was to begin at 5 p.m., sharp.

The day started with all kinds of games in the common room. There was air hockey, billiards, foosball, shuffle board, darts, board games, and just about any game that you could think of that was one on one competition. Mark enjoyed playing dueling pinball. It was essentially two pinball machines back to back with no top portion. Points were scored when the ball was on your opponent's side.

Five o'clock found the students seated at their tables in The Oasis. People dressed in gray work tunics filled most of the booths. A low rumble of chatter filled the place. The people on the stage were dressed in black tunics with silver trim. Mark recognized some of them. Mrs. Shadowitz, Mr. Diefenderfer, Ms. Vanmie and Mr. Thorpe were seated at the center table. Tim and Gerod were seated at one of the counselor's tables, off to the side.

Mrs. Shadowitz stood up. Her voice was amplified. "Ah-hem." Silence settled over the assembly. Everyone turned to look at her.

"Thank you for your attention. First, I'm going to introduce to you, for the sake of the freshmen, the Council of Elders..."

She faced to the right. "Commander of Emerald Tribe, Head of the Communications Department, AlHufus Diefenderfer." Mr. Diefenderfer stood and Emerald Tribe stood and applauded.

She turned to the right and pointed at a lady. "Commander of Ruby Tribe, Head of the Language Department, Julia Diefenbuacher." A thin, short lady with black hair stood up at the center table. Students at the Ruby Tribe's table stood and gave applause.

Mark was too excited to pay close attention to the introductions. He looked around at the people there. The Oasis was jam-packed and he noticed that not too many of the upper classmen were paying that much attention to the introductions. After all, they probably already knew all of the people, anyway.

Mrs. Shadowitz turned to her left and continued with the introductions. It seemed like a lot of time was being given to what most people were not interested in, in the first place. Second, he knew that he would get to know who was who by association much more so than by just mere introduction.

"Commander of Diamond Tribe, Head of the Combat Training Department, Joramina Vanmie." Applause from all of the tables followed.

Mark leaned toward Nick. "I wouldn't mind being in her tribe if we weren't already in Emerald Tribe."

"Me neither. She's pretty cool."

Mrs. Shadowitz introduced a few more of the Council of Elders before coming to Mr. Thorpe. Mark remembered his encounter with him in the bookstore and on the balcony. There was something about this man that was very odd and he thought that he probably wouldn't like him.

"Commander of the Onyx Tribe, Head of the Math Department, Harmonious Thorpe." Applause, from the onyx table, just a little louder than had been the case with the others.

"And finally... The Commander of Jasper Tribe and Head of The Seventh Mountain, me... Theresa Shadowitz." Everyone stood and applauded. Mark thought that it was because she was done.

"Now, if you would like." She turned to look at one of the side tables. "I will introduce to you, all of the teachers, counselors, and instructors..." Moans and groans followed.

"As you can see, contrary to what is widely believed, I do have a sense of humor. Now you understand why I keep it locked in my desk drawer, most of the time." A few chuckles passed through the assembly.

"I want to remind you that the method of tuition payment that you intend to use; is to be made known to your counselor prior to September the twenty-eighth. The tuition is the same as it has always been, one hundred ounces of gold or two years of service to the school or any combination thereof, for every year of study."

She paused for a moment. "School catalogues are available in the bookstore. I mention this because all school rules are listed in an appendix. I encourage all students to get one."

She scanned the student body. "As for tribe standing, the tribe that accumulates the most points has their tuition for the current year waived. As an added bonus, the students in that tribe have the option to not take the final exams and let their points stand where they are."

"The labyrinth, though generally inaccessible, is strictly off limits to all."

She looked down at a piece of paper. "School grounds, at night, are off limits to all students that have not yet developed Rooack Mareh or are not accompanied by an instructor or school staff."

"Do not feed the leviathans in the moat or anywhere else that you might find them." A low rumble of mutters followed this announcement. She paused before continuing.

"As of now, practical jokes are not allowed on teachers. Is that clear Miss Dover?"

One of the Onyx Tribe students stood and faced Mrs. Shadowitz. "Yes ma'am. It's very clear." She sat back down.

"Most of you are wondering what that was all about. Well... Miss Dover had the audacity to play a practical joke on me. I'll spare you the details. You'll be glad to know that it was clever and forthright. She was awarded ten points.

"Also, in the practical joke area, one worthy of note is, Mark Young and Nikola Poparov have been awarded ten points each. They were able to convince Ralph Lawrence, Ricky Barns and Keith Richards that if they could touch Ms. Vanmie, when she tested their reflexive defense, that she would give them a sword."

A roar of laughter broke over the crowd.

"The results were as you might imagine them. The last note worthy event is that Mark Young, Chenoa Day, Jamal Terfa and Nikola Poparov were pre-chosen by an equestrious. Mark Young was pre-chosen by The General himself."

Low murmurs rustled through the crowd. Everyone turned to look at the group. Everyone knew of Mark Young now, the boy with the staff.

"No oracle has ever sung of it, no prophet has ever foretold it, nor has any dream ever shown it. We are at a loss to understand it. There have only been three Magi ever pre-chosen throughout all known history before now, and then never by a horse. We are still consulting on the meaning of this event. Hopefully, we will be able to expound on this matter in the next assembly. That assembly will be on the first Saturday in October at 5 p.m. If someone has an announcement that they would like to make, now is the time."

She looked over to the teachers and around at the staff. No one indicated that they had anything to say. "Well then... this assembly is over. Counselors, you may hand out the class schedules."

Tim found the group and handed them their class schedules. "Oh, yeah. There is something that I forgot to tell you. I played a joke on Gerod when he first came here. I was younger then, not as wise as I am now." He gave them a toothy grin and winked.

"That is how we got to be friends. I made some changes in his algebra book. It was really funny when he answered Harmonious Thorpe by saying that the Pythagorean Theorem was good for calculating how many biscuits should be made for dinner depending on the number of guests that you expected. You can imagine Mr. Thorpe's face when he heard Gerod say that. Neither Gerod nor Mr. Thorpe thought that it was funny. I got five points for that one. Anyway, my point is that you should get together and compare your books, word for word, before you go to class, just to play it safe."

"Okay, thanks. We'll be sure to check our books." Mark looked around at the crowd. "What is Rooack Mareh?"

"You will learn that next year. It is like being able to see with your mind. You do not use your eyes."

"It looks like all of the booths are taken. Who are all these people in the work tunics?"

"Most of them are alumni who are working off their tuition. Did you ever wonder what it takes to keep this place going? This whole thing is like a city. It takes a lot of workers to keep it running. The ones who are not alumni are just regular folk, like Albert over there. You have already met him."

Mark looked to where Tim was pointing. It was the guy that he had met when the lioness led him to the opening in the wall. He was all cleaned up, hair combed and wearing clean clothes, hardly the same person that Mark remembered meeting. He sat alone.

"Albert is a special case. He might be a little slow in other areas but nobody is better than he is with animals. He has a rare gift. That is why he is in charge of all the wild animals here. I am surprised that he even talked to you. He does not like people at all."

Jamal broke into the conversation. "What kind of animals do you have here?"

"There are a whole lot of them. The most common ones are lions, tigers, bears and such. Mostly they come from rescues from fires, floods and stuff like that."

Mark resumed the conversation while giving Jamal a reproachful look. "Are there really leviathans in the moat or is that just a joke?"

"It is not a joke."

"What are leviathans anyway?"

"Well, there are all different kinds. The most common one that we have here is the sail-back ornathoptus. Occasionally, at night, they can be seen floating on top of the moat. Their large back fins make them look like a sailboat. In the wild, they have been known to leap out of the water and glide for more than a thousand yards. We also have some trigibbereras. They have a long neck and three humps on their back. They look like they might be stepping-stones when they sleep and float up to the surface. Do not ever try to use them as stepping stones or you will get a surprise."

It looked strange to Mark to see Tim chuckle. His whole body shook.

"Oh, yeah. A word of warning; some of the teachers will shut the door when class starts and dock you a point per minute. If that happens then just wait for the break and go in then. They are supposed to give a break every hour, but they do not have to. They can save the breaks and dismiss class early. It is up to them. I think that is all I wanted to say. Have a good weekend. I will see you tomorrow."

Saturday morning marked the first day of actually being officially enrolled in school at The Seventh Mountain. Orientation week was considered a part of summer vacation, even though it was mandatory for students to attend. The distinction was made because there were no official school functions during Orientation Week. It had become customary to have orientation to make it easier on the students to get what they needed before classes started. The first official function at the school was tryouts for flags matches. That was always on the first Saturday before classes started.

At breakfast, Tim handed out the mail. Mark opened his envelope. It had three letters in it, one each from his father, mother, and brother. They wrote:

Hi Son,

I guess that I have to trust Tim, for now, on how you are doing. Your mother told you about the dream that we had. That is the only information that we have had about you since he kidnapped you. I understand that this is supposed to be your destiny, but he could have given us a little more warning. I guess we have to trust Tim; he told us that you are all right.

I am really looking forward to seeing you and the school. I won't miss the first flags match for anything.

I'll see you then.

Love, Dad

Dear Mark,

We are so worried about you. We are pretty well in the dark about where you are and how you are doing. Your dad wouldn't let me call the police. He said that we should wait and see.

Honey, I wish that I could be there with you and make sure that things are all right. It's strange that we all had the same dream about you.

It's so different here without you. It's like I have a hole in the way I think. I can't explain it, but without you here is like having a piece of me missing. I'm so anxious to see you. Tell Tim that we do want to come to the first flags match. Your dad has switched his duty schedule so that he can come, too.

_Honey_ _,_ _I_ _miss_ _you_ _._

All my love, Mom

Hi Mark,

That is some strange looking school that I dreamed about. Do you like it there? Do you need anything? What's it like? How are you doing?

I'll see you at the flags match.

James

After breakfast the group had just enough time to make it back to the dorm and write return letters. Mark wrote:

Hi Mom, Dad and James,

Don't be worried about me here at the school. Everything is great. Don't be too hard on Tim either. I'm not the only one that he is in charge of. He didn't have much time for getting his students to orientation on time. He's a counselor here at the school. He's really okay.

I found out that I have some special abilities. I can talk to animals and people can read my thoughts. Tim says that I need to control that and I'm working on it. Mr. Diefenderfer, a teacher here, has given me some exercises to do, to help control it.

I was also pre-chosen, by The General himself, to be in the tribe that I'm in. Well, actually, since The General chose me, I got to choose what tribe that I wanted to be in. I chose the tribe that my new friends were chosen to be in. They were pre-chosen too, only, not by The General. They were chosen by the Emerald Tribe horses.

I have to go now. I'm going to try out for the Emerald Tribe's flags match team. If I don't hurry, I'll be late.

See you at the first flags match.

Love, Mark

* * * ****

The group walked out onto the schoolyard. Each tribe had staked out a section for their own particular tryouts. Each tribe had their own criteria for selecting new members for their team. Krisa, the team captain, explained the process to the new Emerald Tribe wannabes.

"The elimination process is quite simple. Each wannabe is given a flag and a horse. The object is to get past those twenty-four guys down there." She pointed to a skirmish line of horsemen fifty yards away. "They are going to do whatever they can to prevent you from making it past them. Okay... grab a flag and mount up. You'll have ten minutes to get past them. Wait for the whistle."

More than two-dozen students had shown up to try out for Emerald Tribe. Only five were freshmen: Mark, Jamal, Nick, Chenoa and the girl with the spiked hair that they had seen at The Choosing Event.

Mark motioned his friends together. "Listen up. Nick and Jamal, hold back, wait for the pack to engage the group. Then head right, full out. Go around the fray, if you can. Chenoa you come with me to the left. Whoever makes it to the other side; stand by to catch the other's flag. After you throw your flag, head around or through the pack. These guys are trained to only check a flag carrier. They will get all worked up. They will automatically ignore anyone without a flag. Get your flag back when you make it through."

"Roger, roger... sounds like a plan." Nick mounted his steed.

"Let's do it." Jamal was already up.

"I'm with you. Let's go." Chenoa slapped Mark on the back and headed for her horse.

Mark let their horses see in his mind what they were planning.

The whistle sounded. Mark and Chenoa followed the pack toward the melee and broke left just before they entered it. Nick and Jamal had already broken right. Two horses and riders broke from the defending pack to head them off. Mark and Chenoa made it around to the back with no opposition. Nick and Jamal broke left before the four defenders caught up to them. They made like they were going to go around the other side. Jamal caught sight of Chenoa. He hoisted his flag and threw it like a javelin. Nick saw Jamal throw his flag and followed suit. Chenoa and Mark recovered the flags. Nick and Jamal galloped around the end, unchallenged. Mark and Chenoa met them and returned their flags.

Two others made it through the fracas before the whistle blew. The girl with the spiked hair trotted out. An older boy that they didn't recognize crawled out unhorsed, dragging the flag by the fabric behind him.

Krisa galloped up to the successful wannabes. "I'm impressed. Five freshmen. Freshmen almost never make it. And Cap'n Ben, I'm glad to see you finally made it. Welcome to the team."

Joel stood up. He was dirty and bruised. "Third time's a charm." He grinned and thrust the green fabric in his fist into the air.

Krisa rode across the front of the other new team members and said their name as she passed each. "Mark... Chenoa... Jamal... Nikola... LeOmi... welcome to The Emerald Tribe Team."

Mark rode up to LeOmi. "Hi. I'm Mark."

"I know who you are." She turned her mount and trotted after Krisa.

Mark turned to the group and shrugged. He brought his mount around and started back to the start point. Jamal, Nick and Chenoa joined him. Joel had regained his mount and joined them as they rode back.

"Hi. I'm Joel, Joel Benjamin O'Ham. Most folks call me Cap'n Ben."

Now that Joel was close enough, they could see that his close-cropped hair was bright red, under the dust. He had bright green eyes and a trickle of blood was coming from his nose.

Mark cocked his head. "Why Cap'n Ben?"

"I was named after me great, great, great, grand pappy, I was. He was an Irishmen. Some say he had a potato for a heart and shamrocks for eyes. I reckon that means that he loved being Irish. I don't mind the wee touch of Irish blood in me veins either."

Mark couldn't help but grin at Cap'n Ben. "So your grand pappy was a captain?"

"Merchant Marine. Had his own boat and all. Wooden sailing ship."

Mark pointed at LeOmi as she dismounted her horse. "Do you know this other girl, LeOmi?"

"No. She don't seem too friendly, does she?"

"Maybe she's got something bothering her."

"Or, maybe she's just a loner."

"Listen up you guys." Krisa was speaking to the new team members. "Training and practice is Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays at four thirty. For you freshmen, this takes the place of your riding class."

* * *

The flags tryout wasn't too bad. Showers, lunch and off to meet Mrs. Shadowitz.

She was waiting for them with their horses, by the door to the stables. "I think that you will enjoy seeing the engineering and science section."

The ride took them past The Island. The megalithic structure that circled the moat, both inside and outside, was impressive. Stonehenge, on a grand scale. Monolithic slabs spanned the inner and outer circles, forming bridges between the two, in at least seven places. More chunks sloped to The Island, itself.

"You can use the shadows as a sundial." Mrs. Shadowitz pointed at the shadows. "When the two shadows from the north pillars line up, that's solar noon. Mr. Goodfellow will teach you how to use it in other ways."

The door to the science and engineering section opened on a vista, sloping to a valley with tall stone buildings. Paved streets interlinked the varied structures. Small vehicles sporadically whizzed between the white buildings. Science and engineering so advanced, long veiled in myth and legend, flourished, even bloomed in the labs below.

Life Sciences was the first stop on the tour. The four story white stone building presented but one entrance. Windows were non-existent. Inside, a long hall bisected the floor behind a basic counter. A lone, lab coat clad figure emerged from one of the rooms off the hall. He walked up to the counter.

"Mrs. Shadowitz. This is an unexpected pleasure."

"Hello, Rajah. I have brought these students for a tour."

"Yes ma'am. Let me guess. Mark Young, Chenoa Day, Jamal Terfa and Nikola Poparov?"

"That's right. Can you handle it today?"

"Sure thing. You guys come on back here."

"I'll be back to collect them in, shall we say, two hours?"

"A fast tour. Yes ma'am."

"You guys, follow me."

The first room was a chemistry lab. Cabinets along the wall housed all kinds of glass wear and instruments. The center table was set up with flames heating various beakers. Different colored fluids bubbled and percolated through winding glass tubes.

"This is where we make oxy-caps."

Mark said, "What are oxy-caps?"

"Our divers use them. They mix with the saliva in your mouth and release oxygen, enough to breath. With one oxy-cap, an average sized diver can stay underwater for forty-five minutes or so. Here, have one." Rajah passed out an oxy-cap to each one of the four.

"Follow me."

The next room housed row after row of hanging plastic pipes. Water trickled down through the tangle of plants in each pipe.

"Here, we study symbiotic plant growth. As you know, plants take in carbon dioxide and give off oxygen. What very few know is that they also give off other things as well, like micronutrients. Combinations of plants can support each other's growth. All we have to supply is temperature, carbon dioxide, water and light. No fertilizer, no soil or anything else. Just put the right combination of plants together and they thrive. Follow me."

Room after room led to one wow after another. Two hours later, the tour ended. The medical plants section had been the most interesting. It seemed like there was a plant, or combination of plants, to cure just about anything. The most amazing thing was that the expected average life span, for a Magi, was well over two hundred years. The theoretical limit was supposed to be about a thousand years.

Next, Mrs. Shadowitz took them to the main engineering building. It was a building built in the same style as the life sciences building, white stone, no windows, one door on the front. This building was much larger.

"What you are about to see in here is a closely guarded secret. We are able to generate enormous amounts of electrical power and heat and fuel at zero cost. If this technology ever escaped Magi control, well it could be perverted into terrible weapons that could easily destroy the entire world. Even if it weren't used as weapons, it would surely collapse the world's economy."

They walked into the structure. The inside was just like the life sciences building. A single counter separated the lobby from the working area.

A young lady greeted them. She wore the standard gray work tunic with a leather work belt with tool pouches. Her eyes were a golden green and glowed like small lights in a control console. Her long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

"Hello, Mrs. Shadowitz. This is a surprise."

"Hello, Emily. I've brought four students who want to look around."

Emily looked at Mark. "Mark Young, I presume." She looked at the other three. "And you must be Nick, Chenoa and Jamal. Welcome."

"I'll return in about an hour to collect them." Mrs. Shadowitz turned to Nick. "Enjoy yourselves."

"Okay, you guys, follow me." Emily lifted the countertop and folded it back, allowing the group behind the counter. She replaced the gate, turned and walked down the hall. The hall terminated into a warehouse-sized room containing very large, shiny metal tanks.

"This is the cold fusion room. The process is a closely guarded secret. I can tell you that the products are heat, hydrogen, oxygen and electricity. The fuel we use is pretty common. That fuel can be found all over the world."

Nick said, "Mrs. Shadowitz said that it runs at zero cost."

"Well, that's true. You see, the fusion process takes place in a very hot environment. The fusion process, fuel plus oxygen, turns the fuel into a different substance. When the fuel cools, it gives up four alpha particles per molecule by radioactive decay, the equivalent of one oxygen atom. The fusion process forms several byproducts, gold being the only thing that isn't used in the fusion process. The excess electrons captured in the heating process provide the electricity. The waste products are ionized water and gold, neither of which is really a waste. Any more questions?"

Mark said, "I thought it was cold fusion."

"That's what it's generally called. Normal fusion, like in the sun, occurs at several million degrees. Cold fusion, here, occurs at a couple of thousand degrees, much colder than normal fusion."

The group looked around at nothing but big tanks. There was nothing, no motors or humming or hissing or anything that indicated any power generation was taking place at all.

"Follow me and I'll show you the gas storage facility and vehicle fueling station."

The gas storage facility was another warehouse-sized room with very large, shiny tanks.

"Oxygen is stored in the tanks to your right. Hydrogen is stored in the tanks to your left."

Emily continued straight through the large room and walked out a door on the backside of the building.

"This is where our vehicles are fueled." She turned and faced the building. "I need a vehicle." She turned back to the group.

A small car drove up onto the concrete pad behind her. It was silvery gray with very large windows and no wheels. It just floated in the air about a foot off of the pad.

"The vehicle is being refueled automatically while it sits there. Care to take it for a spin?"

Mark said, "Sure."

"Well, hop in."

The group piled into the car, which was surprisingly spacious inside. It could seat four people in the back and four in the front. They left the front far left seat empty.

Emily opened the front left door. "Who's driving?"

Mark said, "I thought you were."

"I'm on duty, I can't leave here. One of you has to drive. It's easy. Just tell the car where you want to go, it does the rest. It just needs to know who the driver is so it can listen for commands."

"What if I don't know where I want to go, I just want to ride around?"

"Then just use the map, just touch the map where you want to go."

Mark said, "Map, I don't see–" an image of a map popped into thin air in front of him.

An electronic voice said, "Map function is now active."

Nick said, "But we don't have driver's licenses."

"Nick, if you haven't noticed, you're not in Kansas anymore."

"I thought that The Seventh Mountain was in North America."

"Well it is, kind of, but not really. The Seventh Mountain is for Magi from North America. All seven of the mountains are not connected to anywhere in particular, yet they're connected to everywhere. They exist outside of conventional reality, it's kind of hard to explain."

"So we don't need driver's licenses here."

Emily chuckled. "Yeah, that's right, have fun. Mrs. Shadowitz will be back in about twenty minutes." She shut the door and stepped back from the car.

The map showed the streets and buildings as if looking down from above at an angle. The objects on the map appeared three-dimensional and in their natural colors.

Mark said, "What's this way over here?" He touched the map and ripples of distortion spread out over the map from where his finger touched it.

The electronic voice said, "That is Magi City."

"Can we go there and get back in twenty minutes?"

"The distance is twenty-two point five miles. Fast cruise speed, round trip, with no stops, will take fourteen point six minutes."

"Okay, let's go there."

"Destination set. Please sit back in your seats. You will experience two point seven five gees while I accelerate."

They sat back and the car accelerated. Everything whizzed by at a mind-blowing rate.

Seven minutes passed and the little car started slowing down. The electronic voice said, "Magi City, please sit back in your seats while I turn and accelerate. You will experience two point seven five gees on acceleration."

Mark said, "Stop. Can you display a map of Magi City?"

"Vehicle stopping. Map function active, displaying Magi City."

The mid-air display changed, the scale was much smaller. It looked like the overall map that they had seen in the map book. It was hard to see where Magi City was.

"Can you highlight Magi City?"

The outer ring became brighter and the rest of the map became dimmer.

"Magi City highlighted. Five minutes remaining before stated twenty minute return deadline becomes unachievable."

"You guys want to see some of Magi City?"

Nick said, "Yeah, let's go."

Chenoa said, "Not now. We can see it later. I don't want to take a chance and make Mrs. Shadowitz mad."

Jamal said, "She's right. We should get back."

Mark said, "Okay, let's get back."

"Return course resumed. Please sit back in your seats–"

"Yeah, yeah, we know, two point seven five gees."

### Chapter 11

# Classes Begin

Do what you can, prepare for what you must.

Do what you must, prepare for what you can.

Mark was well rested for the start of his first class at The Seventh Mountain. He, along with Jamal, Nick, and Chenoa, walked into Mr. Diefenderfer's lecture hall. It was large enough to accommodate the entire group of freshmen. There were twelve large, oval tables mostly surrounded by couches, all arranged in a semi-circle and facing the blackboard. Each couch was separated from the other couches with enough space to easily walk through. The blackboard was set above the low stage that Mr. Diefenderfer stood on. There was a group of people standing beside him. They were all dressed in black tunics and black hooded cloaks. They had the hoods over their heads, which effectively hid their faces. It looked to Mark like everyone had made it to class on time when Mr. Diefenderfer spoke.

"Ah... it is time to begin. Close the door please. It will be most beneficial... for new students... to be seated in groups... with their own tribe. Take the time now... to affirm... that this is so."

No one moved from their seats. The marble tables were in tribe colors. Each student had chosen to sit at the proper table in the first place.

"Very well. This is a mandate... to be performed... whenever you begin a new page... in your notebooks. You will write... at the top of each page... words... to this effect... 'The Magi's power is derived from... the secret acts of kindness... shown to... another individual.' This will be done... when the page is turned. It will not be... pre-inscribed... on any page. Fail to do this... and you will... fail this class."

Mark already had his notebook open. He wrote the words on the top of the page.

"We will study... in this hour... at great length... and depth... this year... the meaning of those words. Everything... that you will learn this year... will relate back to this one precept. With that firmly in mind... I will now... set you upon a path... that will guide you... to the understanding of the why's... and how's... that you do things. We will study... motivation... and methodology. This one study... will have... many profound... and practical benefits."

The people who had been standing beside Mr. Diefenderfer were instructors. There were two per tribe. Their function was to help individual students who had questions or were having trouble. Occasionally they would stop Mr. Diefenderfer in his lecture so that they could help a student.

The second hour was devoted to the history of Magi skills and powers. The third hour began the first lesson in developing the first skill that they would learn, Aaron's Grasp.

Aaron's Grasp, the ability to carry things invisibly, was supposed to be the easiest skill to learn. Freshmen typically had a hard time with it because it was so different from everyday experience and, as with all Magi skills, was a closely guarded secret. It wasn't something that your parents were likely to teach you unless they were both Magi. Magi kept the fact that they were Magi secret as well, even from their spouse, if that spouse wasn't a Magi too. The one standard exception was that the non-Magi spouse would be told if they had a child who was called to be a Magi.

After class, Tim met the group toward the end of lunch. "You will want to wear work tunics to your next class. I imagine that you will do a lot of perspiring. And the trick is to lean into the corner. You will understand what I mean when you get to class."

Chenoa said, "Well, I guess that we had better hurry if we want to change and get to class on time."

Tim said, "Yeah, I guess you should."

Mark said, "Thanks, Tim. Is combat class hard?"

"Well, yes and no. For the first few weeks you are going to think that what Ms. Vanmie asks you to do is impossible. That is normal. Once you start to realize what you have already accomplished, things start to seem easier. You start to enjoy the challenge."

"What are some of the things that we have to do?"

"Sorry, I cannot tell you that. Ms. Vanmie insists that each new student comes to class with no knowledge of what lies before them. I might have told you too much already. Well, I need to go and talk to my other students now." Tim turned and walked off.

Nick leaned toward Mark. "What on earth do you think she is going to make us do?"

Mark shrugged. "Don't know."

Jamal added, "Whatever it is, it is possible to do and you don't get killed."

Nick perked up. "That's right, my brother, Ivan, said that I would love combat class but he couldn't tell me anything about it, it's against the rules. He made it through all right. He used to be a wimp."

* * *

The first formidable undertaking was presented when they arrived for class. Joramina Vanmie was there with a group of instructors waiting for them. When the time came she made the announcement that set the first task.

Ms. Vanmie waved her arm at the wall. "Before you, you see an inside wall corner. Inset into this corner are stones protruding two inches and eight inches thick." She stepped up and touched the stones.

"You will notice that the protruding stones on opposite walls alternate. This forms a type of ladder or stairs." She walked up a few stones, stopped and jumped back down.

"You will use this to get into class." To demonstrate, she walked all the way up the wall corner with seeming ease. She walked back down just as easily.

"There are seven other corners here. This corner is for freshmen. The next corner is for sophomores, level one. The corner after that is for sophomores, level two and so forth." She walked to each corner and pointed as she spoke.

"You will notice that the protruding stones get progressively smaller as you go. The eighth and final corner has smooth walls. You are free to use any corner at or above your year level." She walked back up to the first corner.

"For those of you that are counting the stones, the walls are forty feet high. There are thirty protruding stones in each wall, sixty total. For the next class, I expect each and every one of you to be in class, on time. If it takes two hours for you to get up the wall, then I expect you to skip lunch. Whatever it takes, however you do it, I expect you in class, on time."

She turned and nodded to the instructors. She started to walk off but paused. "One other thing. Gravity works just fine here and you will notice that there are no rubber mats on the floor."

She started walking again and stopped at the last corner. She walked up the absolutely smooth corner just as quickly and just as easily as she had the first corner.

One of the instructors said, "It's easier in bare feet. You might want to take your sandals off... Now, who wants to go first?"

There was a long pause while everyone removed their sandals. No one volunteered. The instructor was about to pick someone when Mark said, "I'll try it."

Mark turned to Jamal. "Will you hold the staff for me?" It was the first time that Mark had ever considered relinquishing the staff.

Jamal had a sense of how important this was to Mark. He took the staff and said, "I'll keep it safe."

Mark smiled. "I know you will."

Mark stepped up to the corner. He placed his right foot on the lowest protruding stone. He stepped up and put his left foot on the next stone. He stepped up again and his body started leaning backwards. He started to lose his balance and kicked off of the wall so that he would land on his feet.

He went straight back to the wall and started again. This time he stepped in closer to the corner. This made it so that he would be leaning into the corner like Tim had said. He used his hands to brace himself against the wall. Climbing the corner was relatively easy after that. It was like walking up a strange stone ladder.

At the top he saw the classroom. It was a huge platform. Students were paired up and practicing sword fighting. In each pair, one student had a sword and the other had a riotous. The sword wielder defended against the baton wielder.

Mark heard the instructor call up to him. "Come on back down."

He crawled backwards up to the ledge and let his feet dangle over the edge. His right foot found one of the protruding stones. He slowly eased his weight onto his right leg. He made a conscious effort to keep leaning into the corner while he made his way down.

He stepped onto the floor and the instructor said, "When you've done this two more times then you can leave. If you want to, you can try the second or third year corners."

Mark looked at the instructor. "Thanks." He used his sleeve to wipe his face. The task hadn't seemed that strenuous, but he was perspiring anyway.

Jamal handed his staff back to him. "That was pretty good. Was it as hard as it looks?"

"No, not really. Just do like Tim said, lean into the corner." Mark leaned his back against the corridor wall. He slid down and sat on the floor. He noticed that his legs were throbbing and started rubbing his calves.

An instructor came over to him. "That's normal. It should pass in a few minutes. If it doesn't, then let an instructor know. We have some stuff that will relax your muscles."

"Thanks, I will." Mark continued to massage his muscles.

He watched as other students made their attempts. Slone Voif was the next to try. He walked up the wall with seeming ease. Jamal tried next. It was obvious that it took a little effort but he made it up and down the wall on his first try. Chenoa climbed up and down the wall like it was nothing. Nick was the only one of the group who had any trouble at all. It took him a little bit to find his foothold when he was starting to come back down. Ralph Lawrence was a complete failure. He couldn't make it more than five steps, in half a dozen attempts, up the wall, before he fell off backwards.

The group completed their next two climbs on the second year's corner. The stones there protruded only about an inch. It didn't feel like there was enough of the stone protruding to get a good purchase. Mark looked at the third year's corner. The stones there stuck out about a half of an inch. That was only enough to put his toes on.

He decided to try the third year's corner. He found that he couldn't support his weight with his toes alone. He tried bending his toes up and resting the ball of his foot on the little ledge. He was able to step up and put his other foot on the next ledge. That's when the cramp hit him. He dropped to the floor and grabbed his foot. He rolled onto his back only to find himself looking up at an instructor.

"Looks like you got yourself a cramp. Let me rub some of this on it." He showed Mark a small bottle.

The instructor bent down and Mark moved his hands. The instructor tinked out a single drop of liquid from the small bottle onto each of Mark's ankles. He rubbed it in and the pain was instantly gone.

"You're using muscles in ways that you never have before. You're going to get cramps until your muscles get used to it. The best advice that I can give you is to not overdo it. For the first few weeks, don't do more than the instructors tell you to."

Mark stood and bounced to test his muscles. "Thanks, I'll remember that."

Chenoa came up to Mark. "We'd better hurry or we'll be late for practice."

The instructor said, "She's right. You've got about fifteen minutes. You can make it if you hurry."

Flags practice was easy on Mondays. It consisted of learning about strategy. Krisa drew diagrams on a chalkboard and explained the concepts. Wednesdays were for riding technique lessons and practice. Fridays were for actual practice games. The group also learned that everyone who had tried out for the Emerald Tribe Team, and didn't make it, was allowed to participate as corral workers and guards. The benefit of that was that they were used as alternates and replacements when needed. They were at practice as well.

Tuesday mornings brought the extremely boring, Ancient Languages class with Mrs. Julia Diefenbuacher. Not simply Mrs. Diefenbuacher, but she insisted, Mrs. Julia Diefenbuacher. An hour each of ancient Hebrew, ancient Greek, and ancient Egyptian, first thing in the morning, was enough to put anyone back to sleep.

Tuesday afternoons were for the once a week class with Harmonious Thorpe, Algebra and Numeric Logic. His voice reverberated through the classroom.

"Mark Young, tell me what the Pythagorean Theorem is used for."

Mark was glad that he had taken Tim's advice and read the first two chapters in his textbook. Mark stood up. "Sir, it's used to calculate the length of the longest side on a right triangle, given that the other two sides are known."

"Then, you're telling me that if I know the longest side, the hypotenuse, and one other side that I can't use it to calculate the remaining unknown side?"

"Well, yes sir. I mean no, sir. You can use it to calculate the unknown side in that case."

"Well then, how about calculating the diagonal in a rectangle."

Mark thought for a moment. "Yes sir. I believe you can."

"What do you mean, you believe? Either you know or you don't. Explain yourself."

"Well sir, the diagonal of a rectangle forms two right triangles. The diagonal is actually the hypotenuse of either or both of the resulting right triangles."

"That's correct. Sit down. I want a paper from you describing and explaining the common uses of the Pythagorean Theorem. That will be a minimum of ten pages, diagrams not included."

Chenoa leaned into Mark. "Wow, I think he is still mad about what happened on the balcony."

Mr. Thorpe rounded and pointed at Chenoa. "Young lady, there will be no talking in this class unless I authorize it. You come sit up here. You there," He pointed at a boy sitting at the Ruby table, about as far away from Mark as was possible. "You go sit where she was sitting."

The two exchanged seats. Mr. Thorpe pointed at Chenoa again. "You will see me after class."

Chenoa nodded her head slowly. "Yes sir."

Nick wrote in his notebook and showed it to Mark. I'm glad this class is only once a week.

Mark looked at Nick and barely nodded his head yes. Mark glanced around the classroom. There was one student smiling at the Ruby table, Slone Voif.

Chenoa served three hours of detention sitting at the table and not saying a word. It was extremely boring and difficult to do. She couldn't even talk to herself and wasn't allowed to do anything but just sit there.

Mark completed his assignment before Mr. Thorpe's next class, ten pages exactly, of text talking about the uses of the Pythagorean Theorem in everyday life and with ample diagrams to illustrate his points. He wrote about everything from using it to make sure a structure is built absolutely square by using the simple three, four, five triangle to making charts to be used in measuring distances that couldn't be measured directly. Mr. Thorpe thumbed through it quickly, wrote "75" in red ink on it and handed it back to him.

Mr. Thorpe was secretly disgusted with having to do that, but it had been Mrs. Shadowitz's punishment for him, to compensate for the wrong that he had done to Mark. He never gave extra credit assignments to anyone, ever.

Mark didn't realize it at the time, but he had just earned seventy-five points that no one else had. Classes were passed or failed based on the total number of points accumulated, not on the average of tests and assignments. One thousand points were needed to pass a class; fourteen hundred was a perfect score. Generally, one hundred point tests were given in every class, every two weeks, fourteen tests in all, including midterms and finals.

### Chapter 12

# Tents

_No matter where you go they are always there_.

Getting used to the class schedule wasn't hard. Almost three weeks had passed since the beginning of classes and Mark no longer had to consult his paper to figure out where to go next. Being at the right place at the right time had become automatic.

There wasn't much spare time either. It seemed that if they weren't eating or sleeping or doing homework that there was some scheduled event going on. Combat exercises were the most time consuming with all moves and combinations having to be performed accurately in the next class. What little free time there was, was precious.

The first practical skill that had been assigned to be learned was Aaron's Grasp. Mark continued to practice, wondering if he would ever get the hang of it. He remembered Mr. Diefenderfer introducing it in class.

"Aaron's Grasp is... a most useful ability. Practice... this exercise... to learn... the proper relationship between... mind... body... and spirit. Take any object... that you normally carry... in your hand. Give it... to someone... to hold for you. At the same time... you... are the person... that is going to hold it. Don't think about... handing it off. Don't think about... taking it. Imagine... if you will... a time... when your attention... was focused on... something... so intently... that you unconsciously... handed what you had... in your hand... at the time... to someone else. Now imagine... that you... are standing... with the person... your attention... captured by that same thing. You unconsciously take... what you are handed. That is... the focus... that is needed... for this skill."

Mark was practicing the exercise, using the staff, while he walked through the hall with Nick, Chenoa and Jamal. It was easy to tell who the other freshmen were in the hall; they were all doing the same thing. They would move their hand to the side or out in front of themselves and then pull it back slowly, looking to see if what they had in their hand was gone. It was like a little dance that all the freshmen were performing.

Chenoa said, "I wonder what the Festival of Tents is like."

Nick replied, "My brother, Ivan, said it's way cool."

Jamal added, "My brother, Idaltu, says that there are all kinds of contests, archery, swords, horses and things like that."

"I think I've got it."

They turned to look at Mark. He was holding his hand out like he was holding the staff, but the staff wasn't there.

"I can't get it back."

Jamal slapped him on the shoulder. "You're thinking about it. Try focusing on something else."

Mark pulled his hand back after Jamal slapped him and the staff was there. The slap had been just enough to divert his attention for a split second.

* * *

The Festival of Tents started one day shy of three weeks after classes had begun. That Friday, individual tents had been set up on the grounds surrounding the school. Everyone was expected to live in their tent for the entire feast, rain or shine. It was a curious fact to Mark, but history had recorded no rain during the Festival of Tents at The Seventh Mountain, ever.

The group selected four tents that were close to each other. The only thing that the small tents appeared good for was providing a little shade and shelter from the rain, should it ever rain. The floors were bare ground. There were no sleeping bags or anything else to sleep on. There were just tents and nothing more.

Mark looked around. Older students were bringing out bedrolls, pillows and blankets.

He looked at Chenoa. "I think we need to go and get something to sleep on."

"I think you're right."

Mark turned to Nick and Jamal. "You guys stay here and hold the tents for us. We'll bring back some stuff to sleep on."

Mark and Chenoa walked off toward The Island. That was the closest entrance to the school. They wound their way through the randomly placed tents.

Mark asked, "How are you doing on Aaron's Grasp?"

"I can do it sometimes, but I can't really control it. Is there a trick to it?"

"No. There's no trick to it really. You just have to not think about it and just do it. It's like walking or breathing or tying your shoe or something like that. Just do it without thinking about it. That's what works for me."

"I understand what you are saying but..."

Mark felt something hit him in the back, hard. He found himself lurching forward and falling face first to the ground. Ralph Lawrence had tackled him.

Chenoa was startled by the suddenness of the assault. She turned to see who else might be involved. Slone Voif was standing there grinning. There were more than a dozen students with him.

Slone said to no one in particular, "It might be funny to roll him up in a blanket and toss him in the moat."

"You're not going to do any such thing!" Chenoa started toward Mark. A group of students that she didn't recognize headed for Mark as well. She felt hands grab her by both arms. She tried to break free but couldn't. She heard another voice in the crowd. She turned to see who it was. It was the girl with the spiked hair.

LeOmi was standing face to face with Slone. "You can't do that! He'll drown."

Slone grinned at her. "Your point is?" He made a motion with his hand that told the others to proceed.

LeOmi delivered an expert reverse roundhouse kick to Slone's face. As soon as her foot touched back down; the heal of her right hand impacted his nose. Blood splattered across his face.

"You call them off and I won't kick your butt." She was bouncing on the balls of her feet with her arms raised to a boxing position.

Slone just looked at her, eyes unblinking and still grinning.

Someone tackled her from the side. She went down hard and was momentarily stunned. She regained her senses and saw that her assailant was sitting on her stomach with her arms pinned under his knees. It was Ricky Barns.

He said to her, "Be still and you won't get hurt."

She smiled and whispered. "You only get one warning. Get off of me now."

Ricky chuckled.

Mark had been overwhelmed by the suddenness of the attack. At least a half dozen guys had grabbed him and pinned his arms to his side. They quickly rolled him up tightly in a large blanket. He tried to struggle to no avail. It was very hard to breath rolled up in the blanket. He had heard what their intentions were. He waited, anticipating when to take a breath and hold it.

LeOmi brought her legs up in a feigned attempt to pry Ricky off of her. He shifted his weight back toward her legs which released the pressure on her arms. She brought her arms up over her head and spun her body so that she was on her stomach. She pushed herself up while Ricky was still on her back, jumped backwards and landed on top of him. This knocked the air out of him. She heard a splash behind her as she got up.

The water quickly saturated the blanket. Mark knew that he was sinking ever deeper into the moat. He started twisting and trying to roll in the water. He was thinking that the blanket would come unwound from around him if he could just roll. He was holding his breath but his brain was telling him that he was smelling something extremely foul. The foul smell was quickly becoming an overwhelming stench. He felt like he had to vomit. In his mind's eye, he could see the thing that was causing the stench. It was a dark colored, wiggly thing just ahead. Mark realized that he was seeing through the eyes of some creature that lived in the moat. It dawned on him that it probably was a leviathan.

Ricky was getting up. LeOmi let loose with a barrage of kicks and punches. Ricky started to fall over. She grabbed him by the collar of his tunic with one hand and grabbed his belt line at the same time with the other hand and pulled toward her. She pushed his neck away to keep him off balance while she walked him backwards toward the moat.

"If you ever touch me again, I'm going to hurt you real bad! Do you understand me?" LeOmi jerked him a little to stress the point.

The surface of the moat erupted. A very large, grayish creature shot out of the water. The fury of the splash soaked anyone within ten yards of the water blast. The creature splashed back down and was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

A dripping bundle squirmed on the sopping wet earth. Mark extricated himself from the saturated cocoon. He stood, catching his breath while he scanned the masses. Slone Voif was thirty feet away, smiling and staring at him through the crowd.

Blind rage swelled inside of Mark's head. His vision narrowed so that the only thing that he saw was Slone. Deep inside of himself he knew that this was the reaction that Slone wanted. He wasn't about to let him succeed. It took effort, but he managed to control the urge for revenge.

LeOmi stepped up to Mark. "I know how you feel. He's just trying to tick you off."

"He succeeded."

Slone called over to Mark. "Ralph wanted to get you back for what you did to him and his friends. In my opinion, this evens the score, unless you think different. If you want to go one on one, I'm right here."

Chenoa had walked up behind Mark. She whispered, "He's baiting you. Don't fall for it."

Mark turned, smiled and winked at Chenoa. He knew a bully like that would never go one on one if his followers were anywhere around. He brought to the front of his mind an image of a large dinosaur-like creature swallowing him whole in the moat. He knew that Slone was probably tuned in to his thoughts.

Mark called back to Slone. "Are you challenging me to a duel?"

"I guess you could say that." Slone folded his arms across his chest.

"Okay. I'll fight you on top of that hill on The Island. You swim across with me. That way I know it's just you and me."

Slone's arms dropped to his side. "Are you kidding me? I saw that thing come out of the water."

"What, no backbone? I've been in there and I'm willing to go again." Mark was smiling now. Slone wasn't.

"Yeah, you go ahead. There's a difference between being stupid and being brave."

"Suit yourself."

Mark turned to Chenoa. "I really hate letting him get away with that."

LeOmi said, "You're outnumbered at least twelve to three right now."

Mark looked at her with surprise. "The odds are twelve to two or rather, six to one."

Chenoa cut him off before he had a chance to stick his foot all the way into his mouth.

"Mark, take a look at Slone's face, then look at Ricky Barns. She means what she said. She stood against them."

Slone was walking toward Ricky and his nose was still bleeding. Mark saw Ricky over LeOmi's shoulder. He was walking with a limp and holding his side.

Mark looked at LeOmi. "You mean to tell me that you beat up Slone and Ricky while they were throwing me in the moat."

"I wouldn't say that I beat up Slone. I just slap kicked him and punched him in the nose. He just stood there until Ricky tackled me." She folded her arms behind her back and gave Mark a sly grin.

"I know I want you as a friend, not an enemy."

LeOmi cocked her head and bit her lower lip. After a moment, she turned and started walking off. Mark heard her say, "We'll see."

* * *

Tim was waiting with Jamal and Nick for Mark and Chenoa to return. Mark tossed Nick and Jamal their blankets and pillows.

Tim asked Mark, "Are you all right?"

Mark looked at Tim and nodded yes.

"Mrs. Shadowitz saw what happened. She was watching from the balcony. She sent a runner to tell me and to have me check on you."

"I'm all right, Tim. I'm just a little mad."

"You might get madder. Mrs. Shadowitz has to decide if that counts as a practical joke. If it fits the rules, well... she will have to award points."

Mark went about putting his stuff in his tent. "I understand."

"The good thing is if she considers it a valid practical joke, she will probably change the rules to prevent something like this from happening again. Practical jokes have to be clever and funny. I do not think that his attack was clever or funny, but that is not for me to decide."

Chenoa put her hand on Tim's arm. "I don't think you're helping him, Tim. Tell me about that girl, LeOmi."

"It is not proper for me to talk about students to other students. I can tell you this. She has uncommon courage and a great deal of confidence in her abilities."

"I know. I saw her fight. That was impressive."

"I bet it was. I would like to have seen it myself; especially what she did to Slone Voif."

"You can't tell us anything about Slone either, can you?"

"No, not really. Just this, keep your eye on him."

"I already know that, too. I wouldn't trust him as far as I could spit."

"Yeah, well... Oh yeah, I have your Festival Brochures. Here you go." He handed Chenoa four brochures from his stack.

"Thanks."

Tim nodded and walked off.

The group went to The Oasis. They found out that The Oasis was closed during the festivities, unless it rained, as were all shops. They walked around looking for a vending tent. No vending tents had been set up yet, either. There was no place to get anything to eat or drink. They decided to go back to their tents and wait for a vending tent to open.

They got back and saw that Tim was there. He was sitting cross-legged in front of a campfire that had been built on the ground. There was a cartload of split wood that hadn't been there before.

Tim looked up and saw them coming back. "Ah, glad to see you are back. I have some jerky here. Do you want some?" He held out a little white paper bag and let them get some. He was already chewing on a piece.

"I guess that you found out that The Oasis is closed for the week. The vending tents will not be open until after sunset. I hate not being able to eat when I want to. That is why I stock up on munchies. I have a bunch of stuff. If you get too hungry, just let me know. I will take care of you. Oh yeah, the rest of my group of students should be joining us soon. You will get to meet those that you have not met already."

Mark sat down across from Tim. "Why the camp fire? I mean, it's pretty hot out here all ready."

"Well, it is tradition. The counselors are supposed to keep one going, for their group, for the entire festival. They cannot let it go out."

"It seems to me like counselors have a lot to do. What, exactly, are counselors anyway?"

"Yeah, we have a lot to do, but it is not hard. Counselors are like big brothers and sisters. They have already been through everything that you are going to have to go through. They help guide you through the tough parts. Oop, wait a minute... I thought so. Cap'n Ben has been trying to tag me all day."

"What do you mean?"

"Look over my shoulder at the second level balcony. That is Cap'n Ben up there. Oop... got to go..."

Tim disappeared just before something hit the tent behind Mark. The pop noise on the tent startled him. The others had been startled, too. They got up and went to see what had hit the tent. A marble-sized splat of red wax was stuck to the canvas. Mark looked back to the second level balcony. He realized that someone had shot the wax ball directly at Tim.

Tim reappeared right where he had been before. "Well, that is over with." He sat back down by the fire. "Where was I? Oh yeah, counselors..."

The group sat back down across from Tim.

Mark asked, "What was that all about?"

"Just a game. I am worth a lot of points. I have never been got. Every time someone tries to get me and fails, my point value goes up one point. If they fail, they lose my point value. I must be worth more than a thousand points by now. Cap'n Ben is going to have to work real hard to make up that loss."

"A game? What kind of game is it?"

"The game is called Assassins. Ms. Vanmie oversees it. There are runners and stalkers. I'm always a runner. A player asks for an assignment of a certain point value. Ms. Vanmie picks a runner as close to that point value as she can. She then gives a picture, not a name, of the runner to the player and assigns a color. That makes a player a stalker. Any player can be picked as a runner. The runner must be tagged with the color that Ms. Vanmie assigns. The tag can be anything that marks the runner in that color. A stalker has as long as it takes to mark their runner. If a runner marks a stalker, in any color, then the stalker loses. I like using a red felt tip marker. Cap'n Ben just found that out."

"Does a runner know that they are being stalked?"

"No, they are not told in advance. But, after you have played for a while, you can pick up on the signs."

"How is it that you have never been tagged?"

"Well, I am good. I developed Rooack Mareh early. Tactical sight was easy after that." Tim wasn't about to tell anyone his real secret. He knew where Ms. Vanmie kept the runner's pictures. He just checked them every morning as a matter of course. If his picture was missing, then he knew that he was being stalked. Once he was sure that he was being stalked, he kept his guard up.

"It sounds like fun. Can freshmen play?"

"Sure, everyone likes freshmen, they are easy points. Just tell Ms. Vanmie." Tim grinned at Mark.

The rest of Tim's students arrived as a group. They sat down facing Tim.

"Okay. I was just starting to tell Mark, Nick, Chenoa and Jamal about counselors. Let me introduce everybody and I will tell everyone." Tim pointed out each student as he called their name.

"This is Mark Young. I think all of you know who he is by now. This is Chenoa Day... Jamal Terfa... Nick Poparov... John Griffin... Sandy Peat...Vanessa Moore... Charles Kaufman... Tab Freeman... Christopher MacDonald... Brian Savage... Ruth Sawyer... Dana Dover... Rebecca West... Pam Westover... and this is Daniel Forsythe."

Tim ran through the names pretty fast. Introductions were just an informal formality here, a part of tradition, so to speak. After all, they all shared the same classes and getting to know each other would either happen or it wouldn't. Mark would learn later that the formal introductions were both long-winded and pompous, like a bullfrog puffing up its throat.

"I was asked about counselors. Counselors are like big brothers and sisters. Everything that you are about to go through, in the next eight years, counselors have already done. There are going to be some tough spots. Counselors will help you through them. It is like the saying, 'Been there, done that, got the tee shirt.' Counselors have been there and done that. They want to see you succeed too.

"Counselors do more than that though. Each one of you, except Mark, is here, at The Seventh Mountain, because I picked you. From the time that you were eight years old until you were almost eleven years old, I have watched and studied you and a bunch of others. You are here because you met the standards set by this school in courage, intelligence, physical ability, thirst for knowledge and knowledge of God. And make no mistake, those standards are high. The Council of Elders agreed with every selection that I made and you were then called to come to this school and train as Magi, warriors of God.

"Counselors are also the ones who maintain the contact with your families; counselors pick up and deliver the mail. They transport families to and from school events. They make special notifications when needed. The same counselor will stay with a group of students for the whole eight years that they are here.

"A counselor can be selected as an instructor after they have finished their first tour. That tour is fourteen years. That is one year of classroom study, two years in field training, three years of observing potential students and eight years as a counselor proper. I am hoping to be selected as an instructor. Teachers are selected by the teacher that they are going to replace. They almost always choose an instructor."

Tim stood up. "If anybody is hungry, I have a bunch of munchies." He walked over to a tent and pulled back the flap. The floor of the tent had large bags filled with bags of chips, boxes of cookies, sandwich crackers and all kinds of snacks. "Take what you want to, sparingly. Leave enough to share with others. No telling who might show up hungry... including me. Make sure that your trash finds its way to a proper trash receptacle."

After snacks, Mark, Chenoa, Jamal and Nick looked at the brochures.

Chenoa pointed at the pamphlet. "Awesome, tag, on horseback."

Nick said, "Check it out, robot wars, too cool."

Jamal said, "I wonder what the endurance contest is?"

Mark said, "I think I'll watch the archery and sword fighting contests. It says here that first day archery is for all comers. Sword fighting is for freshmen only. Single combat in the morning, teams in the afternoon."

"You going to enter?" Jamal turned his brochure to the page that Mark was reading.

"I don't think so. I just want to watch."

"I might enter the endurance competition. It says the first day is standing on one foot on a pole."

"That could be tough."

"Yeah, but you can't catch a rabbit unless you chase a rabbit."

"Let me guess, your grandfather said that?"

Jamal grinned. "Yep."

Mark raised his voice a little. "You guys want to meet back here for the air show?"

Nick asked, "What kind of air show?"

"Tomorrow is hot air balloons."

"Yeah, that's cool."

Chenoa said, "Yeah, that's okay."

Jamal grinned. "If I'm not still standing on a pole."

* * *

The first night, sleeping on the ground, on just a blanket, was uncomfortable at best. Mark tossed and turned and dreamed of being in a dank, cold, stone prison with no hope of escape. When he awoke, the sun was up, but he was chilled to the bone. He remembered that Tim was keeping the campfire going. He crawled out of the tent and made his way to the radiant warmth of the fire. Tim was there eating some kind of pastry and drinking from a mug of hot cocoa.

"Good morning, Mark. The latrine and showers are over there." Tim pointed toward the school.

"Thanks. I just need to warm up a bit. I got kind of chilly last night."

"Yeah, that is pretty common in a desert climate. Sorry."

"That's okay. I'll just go and get some more blankets."

"Afraid that is against the rules. You can only use what you bring with you on the first day."

"That doesn't seem fair."

"It is not about fair. It is about institution and training. You are supposed to make do with what you have and what you know. You have your signet, right?"

"Yeah..."

"You will be all right then."

"Why didn't you warn us?"

"Well, this is a lesson in being prepared. You never know what you are going to be up against. A good Magi never gets too cold, too hungry, or too tired. Always keep stuff with you that you can use, especially your ability to think clearly."

The friends met at the campfire after completing their morning necessities. They decided that the first order of business was to get breakfast and to get some more blankets. The food tents weren't hard to find. All they had to do was to follow their noses. The aroma of breakfast beckoned through the morning air, tantalizing their taste buds with promises of delight. They split up, each searching, striving for that one thing that their noses had zeroed in on. A few minutes later, they were back together.

"What you got there?" Mark was eying what Jamal was eating.

"It's some kind of meat on a stick. It's good. Do you want to try it?"

"No thanks. I have a steak and egg sandwich. What do you have, Nick."

"Peppered noodles with beef and mutton. It's spicy, but it's good."

Chenoa volunteered, "Rice with milk and a touch of honey."

They walked while they ate. They passed Ms. Vanmie's tent. She had some of her wares set up and was demonstrating the proper use of a dagger to a student whom Mark hadn't met. When she was finished, Mark approached her.

"Ms. Vanmie, Tim was telling me about the game of assassins. I think that I'd like to play."

"Tim is a fine one to be telling you about that. Did he also tell you that he is the only one who has ever been able to mark me?"

"You're kidding. No ma'am. He didn't say a word about that. He did say that no one has ever been able to tag him."

"Well, that's true, too."

"How was he able to mark you?"

"I assure you, it was quite by accident. I do the first tag on new players. I was sneaking up behind him in his art class. I wanted him to see me before I tagged him. I had the tag in the bag, so I thought. I was too relaxed and overconfident. He was trying to do some abstract art with felt tip pens. He made a flamboyant sweep across the paper with a pen, from top to bottom. His sweeping follow through ended with the pen touching me on the forehead, right between the eyes. It took a week for me to get that mark off. He's used a red felt tip pen ever since then."

"He said that he always used a red marker. He didn't say why."

"Well, now you know. You're now a player. If you want to go after someone, just come by my office and I'll assign you a target. Say, are you going to enter the sword fighting competition?"

"I hadn't planned to."

Mark didn't really want to think about it, but he felt like he was almost the worst student in his combat class. He had to practice long and hard just to keep up with the exercises and get them right. Nick had been the only one that he had sparred with in class. Nick always managed to beat him.

Then there were both Slone and that spiked-haired girl. He didn't think that there could be a freshman better that either one of them. They were so graceful, fast and accurate. He knew that he could never be their equal with swords.

"If you change your mind, here is a piece of advice. Freshmen always try to win quick. That's a mistake. Just concentrate on keeping your opponent from hitting you. It's pretty easy to defend if you're not trying to work in a strike at the same time. Wait until your opponent is tired and starts to make mistakes. Look for a pattern in their mistakes and exploit it."

"Do they use riotous or swords?"

"Of course they use riotous. If they allowed swords, the healing ward would be full of students getting their limbs reattached."

"I'll think about it. Thank you, Ms. Vanmie."

The group split up and headed their separate ways. Mark took out his map and found his way to the archery competition. The archers had already started. The event was the three hundred yard bull's eye, three arrows.

The announcer called out. "Sixty seconds for three shots. Highest score takes the trophy... Ready on the firing line." Two-dozen or more archers drew their bows and took aim at their individual targets down range.

"Begin!"

A flight of arrows sizzled, arching toward their targets. Mark used his binoculars to examine the targets. Every arrow was in the black bull's eye. The bull's eye couldn't have been larger than a quarter. The archers reloaded and fired another flight. All but one arrow missed the bull's eye. They were close but they didn't cut the black. The arrow that was in the bull's eye had shaved one feather off of the previous arrow. The third flight flew. Every single arrow struck black. One arrow Robin Hooded the first arrow. That was on the target that had all three arrows in the black.

A judge walked the line of the targets. He went back and held up the winning target. "This year's winner, as if it's a surprise, Harmonious Thorpe." Mr. Thorpe raised his bow over his head in triumph.

Mark decided to go and watch the sword fighting competition. He was walking away from the archery area when he heard the announcer say, "Next event in ten minutes. Clay pigeons. Last minute entries can sign up now."

Mark thought that he might like to see that. He turned and started to go back when he saw Ms. Vanmie coming toward him. She had something in her hand. It was a water balloon. She gave it a heave. Mark dodged it and red dye splattered the sand.

"Don't forget, you're a player now." She waved and smiled before she trotted off.

Mark knew then that he needed to come up with a way to tag her before she tagged him. He knew that he was going to have to be sneaky.

Mark watched the skeet competition. It wasn't much of a contest. Mr. Thorpe won that as well.

At the sword fighting competition, it was a laugh to watch the bouts until LeOmi, the spike haired girl, took to the mat. Ralph Lawrence would be her opponent. He had won the last competition.

LeOmi Jones beat Ralph Lawrence easily. Ralph had been losing weight since he had been at school. Still, he was no match for the swift and agile LeOmi Jones. Several other contestants challenged her and were trounced.

Keith Richards walked up on the mat to challenge her. He didn't look so much like a garden gnome anymore. They squared off. The instructor said, "Begin!"

LeOmi turned slowly to face her opponent; he was trying to circle her. She held her two-handed riotous with the tip just below her eye level. She stamped her forward foot and feigned a lunge. Keith jumped back a step and realized that her attack was contrived. Keith rushed forward. He was obviously using the _Knight's Ruse Attack_. This consisted of three or four attempted blows to the head area, forcing the opponent into repetitive motion, followed by starting for a blow to the head, diverting it down to the legs, followed by a spin and blow to the other leg or torso.

Mark counted the blows as they came, one, two, three, four, down, spin... LeOmi was ready for it. She blocked the first five blows and jumped to avoid the final blow while bringing her riotous down across Keith's right shoulder.

The instructor called, "Hold!" He walked over to LeOmi and raised her arm up. "Winner! LeOmi Jones!"

Slone Voif walked up onto the mat. "I think it's time that I paid you back for that nose bleed you gave me."

LeOmi was a little bit out of breath. She had just won nine straight fights, back to back. "So, you've been practicing falling down and getting up, have you?"

The opponents started to square off. Mark called out, "She's tired. Can she take a break?"

The instructor called back, "That's up to her." He looked at LeOmi.

LeOmi confronted Slone. "I'm okay. Let's do this!"

"Very well... Begin!"

Slone began with a flurry of side blows and reverse blows. LeOmi proved adept at blocking them. Slone stopped and LeOmi advanced with a series of blows that Mark had never seen before. It was obvious that she had been doing some advanced study. Her attack relented and Slone advanced. This back and forth, give and take, lasted for more than five minutes. Slone capitalized on an opportunity and managed to trip LeOmi. Slone jabbed her in the ribs when she lost her balance.

"Hold!" The instructor walked up to Slone and raised his arm. "Winner! Slone Voif."

LeOmi walked off the mat, holding her ribs.

Mark went over to her. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah... I'm fine. It's just a bruise."

"You're the best freshman fighter that I've seen yet. I'm glad that I don't have to fight you. I bet you'd have won if you weren't so tired."

"I am going to win. I'm not going to let him win."

The instructor called, "Are there any freshmen challengers for Slone Voif?"

"You're too tired to fight him now. At least let him take another challenger, first."

"All right. I guess you're right. I do need to catch my breath."

The instructor called again. "We need a challenger for Slone Voif, current champion."

"It doesn't look like anyone is going to challenge him."

"Give it a minute. I can't think of anyone who wants him to win the trophy, except those cohorts of his."

"Last call for a challenger for Slone Voif. If no one challenges him, he wins the title by default. I'll give it to the count of ten... One..."

LeOmi started to get up. Mark put his hand on her shoulder to stop her. "You can't fight him now. You're still too tired."

"Two..."

"I know, but I'm not going to let him go unchallenged."

"Three..."

"What does it matter if he wins the cup? It doesn't mean anything."

"Four..."

"I'm not going to let that good-for-nothing bully win it, not him or any of his goons."

"Five..."

"Why do you feel so strong about it?"

"Six..."

"It's personal and none of your business. Besides, what would a goodie two shoes like you know about life?"

"Seven..."

"Ouch... What brought that on?"

"Eight..."

"Like I said, none of your business. Now, get out of my way. I'm going to fight him."

"Nine..."

"No, you're not." Mark raised his hand. "I'll fight him."

Mark selected a riotous from the rack and stepped onto the mat. Slone walked up to face him.

"I didn't think you had the guts, and I know you don't have the skill. Last chance to back out, I know you want to. I've seen you fight in class, if you can call it that." Slone grinned and cocked his head.

"I don't want to fight you, Slone. I just want to wear you out so that LeOmi has a fair chance against you."

"Begin!"

Slone started on Mark with the same opening flurry that he had used on LeOmi. When he relented, Mark didn't counterattack. Slone came in with the knight's ruse. Mark found it easy to block. He didn't take the opportunity to go on the offence. Slone was starting to get mad.

"Fight me, you coward."

"If you don't like the way I fight, you can always quit."

Slone answered with a jab followed by a barrage of hacking blows to the head. Slone was beginning to wear himself out. Mark started analyzing Slone's mistakes. He didn't want Slone to hear his thoughts. He decided to think of a song in his head. He remembered his mother singing while she was cooking.

I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses...

Slone became furious. "Get out of my head!" He came at Mark with all he had.

And the voice I hear, falling on my ear...

Slone was still pounding at Mark's head.

The Son of God discloses, and...

Slone threw his body into Mark. Mark was forced backwards, grappling to block Slone.

He walks with me and he talks with me...

Slone stepped back. He looked at Mark. His eyes became wide with rage. He opened his mouth and let loose a blood curdling scream.

"AHHHHHH.... Fight me you fatuous recreant!"

And He tells me I am His own...

Slone made his charge. Mark was waiting for it. He jabbed him in the ribs exactly where he had jabbed LeOmi. There was a look of surprise on Slone's face.

"Hold!"

Slone drew back his riotous to go at Mark again.

"I SAID, HOLD!"

The instructor walked up to Mark and raised his arm. "Winner, Mark Young."

There were no challengers for Mark. The instructor awarded him the trophy. The figure was a gold-colored Magi with a raised sword. The inscription read:

SINGLE COMBAT SWORD FIGHTING CHAMPION

FRESHMAN CLASS OF THE SEVENTH MOUNTAIN

The instructor explained, "I need to take it to Mr. Diefenderfer to have your name engraved on it. It will be formally presented to you at graduation. Team combat contests start after lunch. I think that you and LeOmi should enter as a team."

"Thanks. I'll think about it." Mark felt awkward at having won the trophy and knew that he wasn't good enough to be paired with LeOmi as a team.

Mark went back to LeOmi. "You know, you rightly deserve that trophy."

"That's all right. You won it."

"You would have beaten him, hands down, if you hadn't been so tired."

"I didn't want to beat him. I wanted to keep him and his slimy goons from getting it. I didn't care if I won the contest or not. I just didn't want him to win it."

"I know he's a bully, and so are all of his friends. What I don't understand is why you're so down on him."

"I have my reasons. Maybe someday I'll explain it to you. Right now, I just want to be left alone."

"Suit yourself. I still think you would have won. You're a really good fighter."

LeOmi didn't answer. She didn't even look up at Mark.

Mark decided to leave her alone and walked off. He passed jugglers and acrobats and street entertainers of all kinds on his way. Everyone from Magi City must have been there.

He tried to cheer up along the way, but he couldn't. His mind was stuck on LeOmi. There was something sad about her that made him feel sad, too.

The afternoon archery contest wasn't much of a contest. Mr. Thorpe was taking all of the trophies. His most impressive shots were at the bouncing ping-pong balls, five arrows at fifty yards. The five balls were dropped from about ten feet up, out of a box, onto a table. All five of the dancing targets were skewered, summarily.

Mark saw a bit of motion out of the corner of his eye. He turned to look. Ms. Vanmie fired. He jerked back just in time. The paint pellet zinged past his head. She grinned and waved the slingshot at him before disappearing in the crowd. She was just playing with him, taunting him a little. He had a flash of inspiration; having a rose delivered to her and pinned to her tunic would be just the ticket.

Gerod was just putting a couple of pieces of wood on Tim's fire.

"Hi, Gerod. Where's Tim?"

"Hi, Mark. He's getting ready for the air show. He asked me to keep a check on his fire. He'll do the same for me when it's my turn."

"He's in the air show?"

"Yeah, hot air balloon. I thought you knew."

"Nah. I didn't know. You have a hot air balloon, too?"

"No, I fly a MIG."

"They've got jets here!"

"Well, yeah. It wouldn't be much of an air show without jets, would it?"

"Wow! I didn't know."

"We fly on Thursday."

Mark remembered why he was looking for Tim. "Where's Tim now?"

"He's at the airfield, getting his balloon ready."

"Thanks, I'll see you later."

Mark left and continued his quest. _One of the venders here has to have a rose._

Later that afternoon, for the last event, bright balloons drifted overhead. Mark kicked back and watched. He used his binoculars to look at their occupants. He found Tim. He was in the tennis shoe shaped one. It was just like the one in Albuquerque. A sudden realization dawned on him; it was Tim in Albuquerque.

* * *

Mr. Quinn walked into Ms. Vanmie's tent.

"Hello, Joramina. I have a gift for you."

"For me?"

"Yes ma'am, just for you." He held up the rose. "Would you like me to pin it on you?"

"Please."

Mr. Quinn pinned the pink rose to her tunic. Ms. Vanmie said, "That's awfully nice of you."

"Oh, it's not from me. It's from that new kid, what's his name? You know... the one with the staff."

"MARK YOUNG!"

"Yep, that's the one."

* * *

The last day of Tent Fest arrived. The myriad of events and activities had tired everyone. This day was for rest and relaxation and was gladly welcomed. This was especially true for the teams that would compete in tomorrow's flags match. This was also a good day to ask Ms. Vanmie for a target.

"You actually tagged Ms. Vanmie. That's way cool!" Nick had just heard the news.

"I had to. She missed me twice, on purpose, I think."

"Why would she miss on purpose?"

"I think that she was just playing with me. You know, like rubbing it in. She could get me anytime that she wanted."

Jamal was warming his hands by the fire. "How did you come up with giving her a rose?"

"Well, my dad says that the best way to win a fight is to not fight. You have to give your enemy something else to think about. He says, but if you have to fight, get somebody else to fight for you."

Chenoa said, "Why would you want to play that stupid game anyway?"

"It's kind of personal."

"Oh, come on. You can tell us."

"Well, I didn't want to play the game because of the game. You see, Tim has been really good to us. He plays the game. I think that a target can be stalked by only one person at a time. If I'm stalking Tim, nobody else can."

"You're giving Tim a break."

"Not yet. I haven't been assigned him, yet."

"Why not?"

"I wanted to give Ms. Vanmie enough time to chill out. Tim is the only other person that has ever tagged her, ever."

Chenoa said, "Let's go see her. She can't be all that upset."

Ms. Vanmie was in her tent, packing her wares.

"Congratulations, Young Magi. That was downright sneaky."

"Yes ma'am. I had to do something. You were just taunting me."

"Yes, quite right. I won't underestimate you again."

"Yes ma'am. Can I get an assignment?"

"How many points would you like to try for?"

"I'd like to go after Tim."

"That's not how the game works. You pick how many points you want to go for. I assign the target. I give you a picture, not a name."

"Okay. I want to go for the highest number of points possible."

Ms. Vanmie picked up a large notebook from her table. She thumbed through it until she found what she was looking for. "Here you go."

Mark looked at the picture. "That's Tim. Thank you. You can keep the picture."

"Are you sure? You don't know everyone here. There might be someone else that looks like him. If you tag the wrong target, you lose the points."

"Yes ma'am. I'm sure."

"As you wish. Yellow, that's his favorite color. Tag him with yellow."

"Can I see my picture?"

"Sure..." She smiled. "When I get it back."

### Chapter 13

# Fire and Ice

For some, the future is told.

Saturday brought the first flags match of the school year. It was eleven thirty when Mark's family found him in The Oasis. There was barely enough time to make it to the stands before the game started. The families of his three friends had met them earlier. They were already heading to the stands.

Mark's mom, Shirley was grinning, and tears of happiness trickled down her cheeks. She held out her arms to embrace him. "Oh honey, I've been so worried about you." It was the first time that Mark had seen his family since he had arrived at the school.

He hugged his mom and said, "Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. Hi, James. The game is about to start. We need to get up to the bleachers."

"Okay, son. Lead the way." Mark noticed a little nervousness in his dad. That was strange. He had never known his dad to be nervous about anything before.

On the way to the stands, Mark told his family everything that he knew about the school. He was repeating everything that he had put into his letters, but this was different. It was face-to-face. That made things more real.

They made it to the bleachers in time. The call of "Noon," signaling game start time, was approaching. The four teams of players stood mounted, ready, awaiting the first flag. The replacement mounts pranced anxiously in their corrals on either side of The Island.

The tribes of Onyx, Jasper, Ruby and Topaz would compete today. Each team wore solid color tunics according to their tribe colors; black for Onyx, orange for Jasper, red for Ruby and yellow for Topaz.

The Island was guarded by some sort of canine animals. Mark later learned that they were jackals. It was to be the first flags match that he had ever seen.

The announcer said, "Folks, just a reminder, the stands move to follow the action. For those of you who have never been here before, well, it can startle you if you don't know what to expect."

An amplified female voice sounded next. "Hi folks, I'm Krisa, Captain of the Emerald Tribe's flags team. For those of you who have never seen a flags match before, I'm going to explain a little about the game."

"Flags has been played since before recorded history began. The rules have been changed a little since then. Now, it is no longer permissible to kill an opponent. It used to be okay, in ages past, because flags started as a battle training exercise."

"Also, remanifesting is not allowed, as it gives an unfair advantage to those who have that ability."

"The object of the game is to get as many flags to your home base as possible, and to keep them there. Each flag increases in value by one point for every one that is launched onto the field. The field is the entire school grounds that you see before you."

"Only twelve riders, per tribe, are allowed to go after the flag in play at any given time. A team can have as many foot players as they can muster."

"The game is played from solar noon to sunset, except for finals, which are played from sunrise to sunset. I hope you enjoy the game."

A few minutes later, Charlie Goodfellow gave the shout that signaled solar noon, exactly. The flag was launched, by ballista, high into the air. The one point flag sailed through the air and stuck into the sandy soil on the playing field.

There was an amplified cry from the announcer. "They're Off... Ruby takes a narrow lead. Judd Jenkins is out in front. Cynthia Dover for Onyx is hot on his heels."

It was like watching a horse race with no starting gate. A red clad rider took the lead. His cloak was flapping behind him like a cape.

The bleachers started rotating so that the spectators could follow the action. Shirley said, "Whoa, they weren't kidding."

"Jenkins is still leading the pack... The pack is coming up on the flag... It's going to be close... too close to say yet... and yes, Jenkins has the flag." The Ruby Tribe was on their feet, roaring.

It was hard to make out what was going on. The jumble of horses kicked up a lot of dust, but the announcer's voice told the spectators what to look for.

"The pack has him boxed in. Is he going to pass or fight? There's the flag. It's up. It looks like he's going to pass. The pack is breaking up... and... Oh! He's down. Unhorsed, good move by David Adams. – Does he still have the flag? – Yes! – He's still got the flag. He's being swarmed. The flag is up... and there it goes. It looks like it's intended for Jessica Savage. She's going for it. – She has it! It's a race to the corral."

A rider in red easily had six lengths on the pack starting out. The head start was narrowed to just less than a length when she made it to the corral.

"She has a pretty good lead. – The pack is closing in – It looks like she's going to make it. – She makes the handoff. There it is! One point for Ruby Tribe."

Mark watched the players change mounts. Their next horses were already saddled and waiting to go. The number two flag was launched.

"They're off! – Onyx is taking an early lead. Daniel Kaufman is giving it all he is worth. – Spiegel is closing in for Ruby. Spiegel has caught him. They're neck and neck, going for the flag."

The yellow riders stopped halfway to the flag and formed a line with the horses about ten yards apart.

"Topaz team is holding back – they're setting up a defensive line. Kaufman has the flag. He's not stopping. Folks, it looks like he is going all the way around. Spiegel is closing the gap."

The yellow and the orange riders started heading around the school, the other way.

"Jasper and Topaz are heading the other way to head him off."

The yellow and orange teams made it at least a quarter mile past the stables, going the other way, before they stopped.

"Wait – he's turning around. Topaz and Jasper are too far away to defend. It's one on one now as Onyx and Ruby battle it out"

The red and black teams came together in a muddle, not too far from where the flag had landed. Ruby was engaging them. They were the only team close enough to prevent their rider from scoring.

The rider with the flag threw it straight into the rumble and began riding around it.

"The flag is in the air. There it goes... to Paula Williams. If she's going to score, she needs to get out of there. – It looks like she's hemmed in."

The lone black rider had no sooner reached the other side of the pack when the flag was back in the air.

"No... wait... the flag's in the air– Kaufman has it again. It looks like he made it to the other side of the pack while everyone was watching the clash. Good move, Kaufman. You've got to wonder if his horse has enough steam left to make it back or if Onyx can tie Ruby up long enough to keep them away from Kaufman."

The yellow and orange teams were in a full out gallop back to the ruckus.

"Topaz and Jasper have caught on to what has been happening. They're on their way back. If Kaufman isn't fast enough, I don't think he is going to be able to get past them."

The yellow and orange teams were about two seconds too late to engage the lone rider before he made it back to the corral.

"Looks like he's going to make it. He made it. There's the hand off. Two points Onyx."

"Oh my, look folks, it's an early play for the bonus flag... Who's that scaling the pillar for Ruby?"

There was a momentary pause. Obviously the announcer had to do some consulting to find the names of the players going for the bonus flag.

"Slone Voif, Ricky Barns and Keith Richards."

They were using ropes to climb the outside of the stone structure around the moat.

"It's an attempt at a classic deception... It looks like Barns and Richards are going to try and lure the jackals to them while Voif goes for the flag... It's not going to work, boys. Jackals are smarter than that..."

The pack of more than three-dozen jackals bounded up the ramps leading to the inner ring. Half went toward the two boys who were together. The other half went toward the single boy.

"Half the pack has spotted Voif... Barns and Richards are surrounded... There they go, over the side and in the water! What a splash! Better get out of there quick, guys. Leviathan is gonna get ya... Voif is heading back down the rope. Sorry, boys. Better try something different, next time."

"Back on the field... Ruby has the flag..."

Mark watched every play with keen interest. He noted the strategies and feints. He savored every detail of the match.

The sun was sinking low and a flock of starlings began their evening flight to roost. You could always tell a flock of starling from most other birds. Starlings formed a flock fifty to one hundred feet wide and sometimes as much as a mile long, looking like a huge cloud of birds flying in tight formation when they passed over.

Thirty-five flags had been played when Charlie Goodfellow signaled sunset. The match was over. The Ruby Tribe had won with a score of two hundred and four points. No one had managed to get the bonus flag.

Mark stood up and faced his dad. "You guys hungry? Maybe Tim will let you stay for dinner." Tim was supposed to take them back home right after the game.

Mark's dad, Steve, stood, "Sure. We'd like that."

Mark found Tim in The Oasis. "Hi, Tim. Is it okay if my family stays to have dinner with me?"

"Well, normally I would say no, but Mr. Diefenderfer has requested that you and your family dine with him tonight."

"Okay. Where do we go? I don't know where the teachers eat."

"He will meet you up on the stage. You all need to wear a cloak." He handed Mark and each of Mark's family a black cloak with no trim. "Keep the hoods up over your heads until he tells you to remove them. It is kind of a tradition, to show respect."

Shana stepped up to the group. "Hi. I'll take your orders now, if you don't mind. That is so that I don't have to interrupt you while you are speaking with Mr. Diefenderfer."

Tim added, "Oh yeah, do not go up on the stage until he calls for you. Sit down when he tells you to."

Steve said, "I guess that he is some kind of grand duke or something, uh?"

Mark frowned at his dad. "Yes sir. He is. He is the Commander of my tribe. He is on the Council of Elders. He teaches communication and he is an oracle. Not to mention that he is a pretty good person in general."

"Any idea what he wants to talk to us about?"

"No, sir. I don't have a clue."

Shana waved her pad at Mark. "You ready to order now?"

"What do you want, Dad?"

"I'd like a T-bone steak. Do you have that here?"

Shana nodded. "Yes. How do you want it cooked and what country would you like it from."

Steve grinned. "Medium, and is Texas a country?"

"Yes sir. For food orders, Texas is considered a country. What else would you like with that?"

"Let's see... mashed potatoes with gravy, peas and a glass of iced tea and a couple of biscuits."

Mark said, "Turkey please. I'll try some mutton kabobs over rice and cabbage-turnip slaw with olives and iced tea from North Carolina."

Shana turned and took Shirley's and James's orders.

A little while later, Shana returned and put the orders on the center table on the stage. When she left, Mr. Diefenderfer walked up onto the stage. He was wearing a hooded cloak with elaborate green trim. He had his hood up. He motioned for Mark and his family to join him.

They walked up to the table and Mr. Diefenderfer spoke. "I very much... dislike the formality... which I am forced into... by the school rules... You are to be... treated as formal guests... For this... I must... apologize... Bear with me... a moment please."

Mr. Diefenderfer bowed his head and asked a blessing. Then he said, "You will be seated... please."

They sat down and Mr. Diefenderfer remained standing. He bowed slightly and offered his hand forward.

"I am... good people... AlHufus Diefenderfer... an oracle... Commander of the Emerald Tribe... of The Seventh Mountain... Second Seat... on the Council of Elders... at the Seventh Mountain... Teacher of Communication... Theory and Practice... First Artisan of Signets... Holder of David's Crown... for courage... Solomon's Signet... for wisdom... Deborah's Nail... for justice... Solomon's Hammer... for craftsmanship... Daniel's Mantle... for interpretation... and... I am afraid... that if I continue... on and on... about myself... that your dinners... will get cold..."

Mark thought that he would take the opportunity to introduce his family. He pointed to James. "This is my older brother, James."

James extended his hand and Mr. Diefenderfer shook it. "That is... not entirely true."

Mark said, "Well..."

Mr. Diefenderfer held his hand up to silence Mark. "I know... your family. That is why... I have... asked for you... all... here today. This is... your mother... Shirley."

Shirley extended her hand to Mr. Diefenderfer.

He shook it, turned and said, "This is... your father... Steven."

Steve extended his hand to Mr. Diefenderfer. When he touched it, Mr. Diefenderfer stiffened; his head rolled back, and he began to sing, (if you could call it that).

"Sand and Mountains fire and ice...

The Lion, the Sabers, the Jackal, and Three Blind Mice...

Four soldiers march at duties call

Three will succeed and one will fall

A sniper waits to deal the blow

Blood and bone stain the snow

The Jackal calls to a bird above

Flying high is The Morning Dove

Rockets roar and rocks explode

No more is the sniper's abode

Three soldiers march at duties call

One soldier has given all in his fall

Three soldiers must do something not so nice

The Sabers, the Jackal, and Three Blind Mice."

Shirley put her hand over her mouth and shook her head.

Mr. Diefenderfer took two steps backward when he had finished his song. "Oh my! I had no idea that... that would happen."

Mark and Steve jumped up to steady him.

James pulled his chair out, and Mr. Diefenderfer, shaking, stepped forward and sat down.

"I must... apologize. Ever since... that last battle... foretelling... leaves me... quite shaken."

Steve furrowed his brow and tilted his head. "You just named the tattoos on everyone in my squad."

"Yes, I see. I am afraid... that the Lion will die... on that mission."

Steve pulled his left arm out of the cloak. He pulled his short sleeve up and exposed his tattoo. It was a lion. "Are you telling me that I'm going to die on that mission?"

"No. I am telling you... that the one known... as the lion... will die... on that mission. The foretelling... was specific... about the lion... not the person."

"Then all I have to do is not be on that mission. Is that right?"

"That mission... will happen... whether you are there... or not. One known as... the lion... will be... on that mission. The lion... will die... on that mission. The lion... is not necessarily... you."

"Well, I guess that settles it. I was planning on making the Marines a career. Not anymore."

"You may... act on the... information... as you deem fit. But... that is not why... I have... asked you here tonight. I wish to convey... an explanation... and... an apology."

Steve put his arm back into his cloak. "An explanation and apology about what?"

"You may... remove your hoods... and eat... while I speak."

Everyone picked up their forks and began to eat.

"James... I take it... that you... do not know... your last name."

Steve dropped his fork. "So that is what this is all about. I wondered if there was a connection."

"Indeed... there is. James... your given last name is... Diefenderfer. I am... your great, great, great, great grandfather."

"Wait just a minute now." Steve was speaking directly to Mr. Diefenderfer. "His family name is Diefenderfer. But if you expect me to believe that you are his great, great, great, great grandfather, you would have to be well over a hundred years old."

"Yes. I am... one hundred... fifty six... years old... but that is... neither here... nor there. What I have said... is true. What is important... is that James understands... that I was unable to act... to avert... his mother's... death... and as a consequence... preclude his father's... demise."

James asked, "How could you have prevented my mother's death."

"All I needed to do... was to delay her... for a few minutes. I had foreknowledge... of the crash. I had... planned to act... but... was prevented from doing so... as a result... of my injuries." He pulled back his hood to reveal the scars.

There was a look of astonishment on their faces when they saw the scar on his head and the black orbs that had once been eyes.

"It has taken... fifteen years... for me to recover... this much. I was... in a coma... for ten years... after that battle. It is my... great fortune... that the healers here... are... as good as they come."

Steve bowed his head. "Those are battle wounds?"

"Indeed. Two stood... against... fifty... or more. Benrah... an ancient evil... made an attempt... we believe... to steal... an artifact... from... the school's museum... Fifty or more... thralls... were manifest... from the sands... of the school grounds. They invaded... the museum. I myself and... my best friend... spotted them and... stood to prevent them. My best friend... was lost... in that fight. We never did... find out... what they... were after."

James said, "I know you would have helped her if you could have. I understand. You don't have to apologize."

"Thank you, James. That clears... blight... from my soul. There is one more thing... that I must tell you. There may be... some hope... to get you... into this school... to train... as a Magi... if you... are interested. You would... be starting... three years... behind. You would... find the training... to be... a bit more difficult... because of that."

Mark said, "I thought that a candidate had to be observed and studied for three years and recommended by a counselor."

"That is true. Providentially... Tim and Gerod... both... observed and studied James... as a matter of course... in guarding... observing... and studying... you."

"Guarding me?"

"Yes... the Council of Elders... assigned them... as guards... over you... after the incident... when Benrah... tried to kill... your mother. One or the other... has been guarding you... from that time... until... you... recovered the staff... and arrived here."

James said, "Hey yeah, where is the staff?"

Mark reached out and grabbed the staff. He drew his arm back and the staff appeared. "I have it, right here."

"Mark... remember... your lessons."

Mark looked down. "Yes sir." After a pause, he looked back up at his dad. "I'm not supposed to show off."

James said to Mr. Diefenderfer, "I think I would like to go to this school, but I need to think about it. How long do I have to make up my mind?"

"If I can... persuade the Council of Elders... to admit you... then... you will have... until the end... of Orientation Week... next year... to decide."

"Thank you."

Steve said, "You mentioned the name Benrah. I don't think that I have ever heard that name before. Who is he?"

"Benrah... strictly translated... means... 'the son of evil.' He has been known... by many names... throughout time. He is... an ancient force of evil. It was... that force of evil... that tried to kill Mark... before he was born."

"Why on earth would he want to kill an unborn child?"

"Although... we have had... no success... in deciphering... Mark's destiny... he... Benrah... must have... some idea... as to what... that destiny is. It was pretty obvious... that he wanted to... kill Mark... in order to prevent... that destiny."

"Surely you must have some idea of what Mark's destiny is."

"We have... consulted... the Ummim-Thummim... at length. It will... neither... answer truth... or untruth... in this matter. It will only... stand... on end... when anything... about Mark... is said. This... in and of... itself... is a great mystery."

"What is an Ummim-Thummim?"

"It is... a flat stone. For thousands of years... it has been... one hundred percent... accurate... when presented... a true or false... statement. It is also known as an U.T. stone."

"I see. I still don't understand what this Benrah has to do with Mark."

"Mark... is a Magi. It is the purpose... of Magi... to prevent... Benrah... from taking over... the world."

"How can Benrah take over the world?"

"It has been... deduced... from many foretellings... that he would... become incarnate... somewhere between... 1995 and... 1997. He must... manifest... as a physical being... in order... to take over... the world. We have found... no evidence... of who he is... or even if this... has happened... yet. We believe... that this... has happened. We just don't know... where or who. We do know... that he must obtain... the use of... a great many... ancient... and powerful... relics... in order to keep... his grip... on the world. It is... the primary purpose... of Magi... to prevent this... from happening... We guard... these relics. Mark's destiny... must lie... somewhere... within that purpose."

Shirley interjected, "And Benrah wants to kill him because of this?"

"That is... what we believe. It too... is a mystery. Benrah... is prevented from... acting directly... as a disincarnate force... in such things... That is... one reason... that it is... a mystery... as to why... he tried... to kill you."

Shirley stood up. "That's what I thought." She turned to Mark. "Honey, you're coming home with us. It's too dangerous here for you."

Mr. Diefenderfer's voice remained calm. "That is... Mark's choice... but... his destiny... cannot be prevented. Whatever his destiny is... he will face it... whether he is... at home... or here. At The Seventh Mountain... he has... the protection... of every... skilled Magi... on hand. He is also... learning skills... that he can use... to defend himself... and others. He is... much safer... with us... than at home."

Mark looked at his mother and tilted his head. "Mom... I'm staying at school."

Steve looked at Shirley. "Hon, I agree with Mr. Diefenderfer. If Mark is going to have a chance at standing up to this Benrah, then he needs training."

"I know, but he's only twelve years old."

"Sweetheart, we've already talked about this. There isn't any question that Magi are a force of good standing against evil. We have no place standing against it."

Shirley didn't say anything. She just sat back down.

After a pause, Mark asked Mr. Diefenderfer, "May my family stay overnight?"

"That is... a bit unusual... but... I see... no harm in it." Mr. Diefenderfer waved his hand at the family. "You all... must wear... at all times... when not in your room... your visitor's cloaks. That includes you... Mark. You will have to leave... prior to... 1 o'clock... in the afternoon. Tomorrow... Mrs. Shadowitz... will be expecting... Mark... and his friends... at 2 o'clock... sharp... for their... afternoon ride. Magi... are expected... to keep their word... whatever the cost. Mark has given... his word... that he would... ride with her... in order... to further explore... the school... and its facilities."

Mark said, "Thank you, sir."

Then Mark turned and grinned at his dad. "I can show you guys around a little. It's a really neat school. And you'll get to meet my friends, Nick, Jamal and Chenoa. Maybe mom would feel better about it if she understood it a little better."

Steve returned to eating his steak. "All of this is a bit much to take in."

Mark turned in his seat toward his dad. "There are a lot of amazing things about the people at this school. I believe Mr. Diefenderfer. Trust me. You should believe him, too."

Mark looked at Mr. Diefenderfer. "Sir, with your permission, I am going to demonstrate something for my family. I don't want to do this to show off. I just want them to have a little reassurance about the school and everything that is happening."

Mr. Diefenderfer nodded.

Mark looked back at his dad. "What I am going to show you is something that I have already told you about. People read what I am thinking in the front of my mind. They think that it is their own thoughts unless they have been trained to recognize foreign thoughts. Mr. Diefenderfer has given me some exercises to help control it. I'm getting better at it. I can control the range pretty well now. What you need to do is to relax your minds. Don't think of anything in particular. It works better in the morning when your mind is naturally relaxed, just after waking up. I'll wait a moment, for you to relax, before I begin."

After a moment, Mark began. He recalled all of the significant events of Orientation Week. He remembered the confrontation with Ralph Lawrence and his crew, befriending Nick, Ms. Vanmie trouncing Ralph and his comrades, meeting Chenoa and Jamal, selecting the signet, the encounter with the lioness, riding the horses, and the call to the Council of Elders. Then he remembered the starting of classes. He thought about starting Mr. Diefenderfer's class, Mr. Thorpe's class, Mr. Goodfellow's class and Ms. Vanmie's class.

He showed his family some more of the details of a couple of the classes. He relived the starting of Charlie Goodfellow's Astronomy class. Mark had learned that Charlie Goodfellow was an Aborigine from Australia. He spoke with an Australian accent. The class began with all first year students gathered a bit away from a roaring bonfire.

"G'day mates. In the back of your textbooks is a transparency of the night sky for September. Take it out and hold it up like this." He demonstrated by holding up a transparent sheet. "Make sure you have it right side up. You should be able to read the words."

He waited a moment then said. "Tonight, I am going to teach you a little about finding your way around the night sky. See that group of stars there that looks like a lopsided w?" He pointed east toward the horizon. "That's Cassiopeia. It's easy to spot. Now hold your star chart up and line up the stars of Cassiopeia on your chart with the ones in the sky."

Hooded instructors made the rounds and made sure that everyone was on track.

Mr. Goodfellow pointed to the horizon. "Another good reference point is Orion's belt. It's not up yet, but you can see it on your October chart. See those three stars in a line, close together? That's Orion's belt. If you draw a line through the belt and extend it, it will come close to two bright stars, one at either end of the belt. On one side is a reddish star. That is Aldebaran. On the other side is a bright star by the name of Sirius. You can line your charts up on these stars as well. Aldebaran is a magnitude one star. Sirius is a magnitude minus one point five star. And for reference, a full moon's magnitude is about minus twelve point five. That means how bright they are. A magnitude six object can just barely be seen with the naked eye on a very dark night."

Mark brought his mind to an incident in Ms. Vanmie's class. He was careful not to think about how inadequate he felt in that class. The class was just about to start when Ricky Barns asked a question.

"Ms. Vanmie, why do we train with swords? I mean, aren't they obsolete? Why don't we just train with firearms?"

Ms. Vanmie smiled, turned and looked at Ricky. "Every year a student asks that very same question. They get the very same answer."

The second year students pulled back, as a group, from their normal training places. It was as if they knew what was coming.

"Ricky, follow me." She led him to a wall full of shelves. "These are weapons that I keep here for training. There is a very large selection. The guns are all loaded with wax bullets and squib charges. Pick the handgun of your choice and go back to your group."

Ricky went back to his group carrying a long barreled revolver.

Ms. Vanmie walked up in front of Ricky. She shouted, "Jerome, with your riotous, at your pleasure, advance and disarm Mr. Barns, after I move." She whispered to Ricky, "Jerome was the worst student last year to actually pass. I will give you one hundred points and the rest of this class off, if you can hit him with a shot from that pistol."

Ms. Vanmie took two quick side steps to get out of the way.

The second years parted from around Jerome. Jerome stood alone and faced Ricky. He smiled and saluted Ricky with his riotous. Ricky raised the gun to take aim. Jerome ran forward and ducked left then right.

POP. Ricky fired his first shot. Jerome, still running, did a forward somersault.

POP. Another shot missed. Jerome came to his feet in a full out run. He closed on Ricky and spun left.

Ricky fired a third shot. Jerome's riotous came up, seemingly out of nowhere, and struck Ricky's wrist. The pistol was falling from Ricky's grasp when Jerome spun again and brought his riotous to rest against Ricky's neck.

Ms. Vanmie said, "You don't have to reload a sword either. Swords have their place. There are also places where the sword is absolutely useless."

Mark brought his attention back to the here and now. "The thoughts that you just had were some of my memories. The only thing is; you were seeing them as me. For a few moments, you thought of yourself as me. That's pretty amazing."

The silence that followed was broken by James. "I don't have to think about it anymore. I definitely want to go to school here."

Steve chuckled. "Me, too!"

Mr. Diefenderfer spoke. "You are still.... feeling... Mark's feelings... It will pass... in a few moments."

Shirley said, "I feel it, too. I want to go to school here."

"You know now... how Mark feels... about this school. It is... impossible... for you... Steve... to matriculate... here. Your minds... I am sure... are... too far set... in what you believe... to be reality. There is hope... for James."

Mr. Diefenderfer looked directly at James. "If you still... feel this way... after you have... finished your dinner... then... I will accept that... as your answer."

Everyone finished their meal in silence. James spoke first. "I still want to go to this school."

Mr. Diefenderfer nodded. "Very well. I accept that... as your answer. I will... notify you... all... of the decision... of the Council of Elders." He stood up beside his chair. "If you have... no further questions... or comments... I will take... this opportunity... to say... farewell."

Steve stood and offered his hand to Mr. Diefenderfer.

Mr. Diefenderfer looked at the hand for a moment and then took it.

"Thank you, sir."

Mr. Diefenderfer nodded his head slowly. He turned and walked to the door.

When Steve sat back down, Shirley leaned toward Mark and said, "Chenoa is a pretty girl."

Mark said, "You've only seen her through my eyes. You'll get to meet her in person soon. Wait 'til then and make up your own mind."

Mark grinned. "Mom, Dad, do you guys want to build a house on that land in Virginia? I'll pay for it."

Steve said, "I hadn't really thought about it. I guess so. Why not? I'm getting out of the Marines, anyway. What do you think, hon?"

"That's kind of sudden, Sweetheart. We haven't had a chance to talk about it."

"What's to talk about? I'm getting out of the service. We need a place to live."

Mark said, "Well, that settles it. I'll set up an account at the bank, so that you'll have the money to build it."

"You don't have to do that, son. I've got some money. I can build the house myself."

"Don't be silly, Dad. I have to be one of the richest people in the world now. If you want to build the house, at least let me buy the material."

"I'll think about it, son."

'Well, let me put it another way. I want to do something significant for our family. I want to say thanks for all that you have done for me. Building a house is nothing compared to you risking your life to save mom and me from that horse."

"I'll tell you what. I'll start building the house with our money. When we run out of money, you can make up the difference."

"Okay, just don't be surprised if a few extra boards and stuff just happen to show up."

### Chapter 14

# Flags

Venture is the heart of any journey.

The last Saturday in October brought the second flags match of the year. Mark sat on the corral fence waiting for Charlie Goodfellow to signal solar noon, the start of the game. Nick, Jamal, Chenoa, LeOmi and Cap'n Ben were there with him. Krisa, the Emerald Team captain, was giving last minute instructions.

Mark looked at the crowd in the bleachers. He knew that his family was somewhere up there. He just couldn't tell where.

Krisa rode back and forth and shouted so everyone could hear her.

"Just a reminder for those of you that have never played before. We function as a team. Getting the flag into our corral is more important than who does it. If you see a chance to pass to someone in the clear, don't hesitate; do it.

"Keep up with what's going on. Be ready when it's your turn to play. Remember, the order goes, first team, second team, first team, second team, third team, first team, second team, third team, fourth team. That's one, two... one, two, three... one, two, three, four, then repeat."

Steve, Shirley and James were sitting in the stands with Tim. Tim decided to use the stands for flags matches instead of the seventh level balcony. He still hadn't gotten the bad taste out of his mouth since his run in with Mr. Thorpe.

"This is Mark's first match. I think he is going to do well. I have seen him at practice. He is pretty good."

Shirley gave a nervous smile. "I saw the last match. It looks like it can get pretty brutal down there."

"Yes ma'am, it can, but nobody has been seriously injured in a long time. Besides, the healers here are first rate, best in the business."

"Will Mark be playing much?"

"I do not know. Krisa, the team captain, put him on the fourth team. The fourth team, for Emerald Tribe, generally plays every ninth flag. He might get to play three or four flags."

Mark, Chenoa, Jamal, Nick, LeOmi and Cap'n Ben comprised half of the fourth team. That would remain so until one of them showed themselves to be a better player than someone on the other Emerald teams. If and when that happened, the players would change places. It would be eight rounds before the fourth team got to play. That meant that they had an hour to an hour and a half before they rode.

Steve said, "So, he's a pretty good rider, is he?"

"Oh, yes, sir. He is a natural. He has a way with horses. Remember, they talk to each other."

The announcer began. "Ladies and Gentlemen... welcome... to the second flags match... here at The Seventh Mountain... for this school year. The competition is predicted to be tight today.... The tribes of Ruby, Emerald, Diamond and Agate will be competing. May the best team win."

The occasion of the draw gave Ruby another chance to play. The other two teams drawn were Agate and Diamond. Mark had seen Ruby Tribe play. Not so the other two. Ruby had put in their second team after five flags. Their second team played four flags and then their first team was back in. That meant that Emerald's fresh fourth team would face Ruby's tired second team. Mark was doing this analysis in the front of his mind while he pondered how he wanted to go after the bonus flag.

He looked at The Island. It was populated with brown and black bears. He leaned over to Nick. "Know where we can get some honey?"

"Not offhand. Players can't leave the field during a match."

"Oh well, it was just a thought." Mark gave a slight motion with his thumb toward The Island.

"Oh, okay." Nick shook his head. "I think you need a better idea than that."

"Yeah, me too. I think I've got it. I just need to watch a couple of things, for a bit, to make sure that it will work."

"Noon." The amplified cry from Charlie Goodfellow signaled the beginning of the match. The first flag was launched high into the air. All eyes squinted to catch its path against the gray sky.

"Yah!" Every Emerald Tribe player shouted at once when the flag struck the ground.

The announcer's voice boomed over the field. "They're off. Diamond takes an early lead. Leroy is out in front with Lloyd, for Agate, hot on his heels."

Mark wasn't following the action. He hopped down off the fence and went to watch what was happening in the other corrals. He watched as Ruby brought up the replacement mounts for their first team. Agate tribe was doing the same thing. Diamond had riders and mounts ready to go. He looked hard and couldn't see anyone guarding the backside of the three corrals. Ruby brought in the first flag. Everyone in their corral was up front waiting for the handoff of the flag.

Mark watched as six more flags were played. No one guarded the backside of the corrals during play. He was sure that his plan would work.

The eighth flag was being played. The fourth team mounted up for their turn to ride.

Cap'n Ben rode up to Mark. "Nervous?"

"Yeah, a little. I think that waiting is the hard part."

"Me, too. You never know what to expect out there."

John returned with the flag for Emerald Tribe. All eyes turned to the sky to watch for the next flag. The flag touched down and there was an explosion of hooves heading toward it.

Tim was looking through his spotting scope. "That is Mark. He is the one holding back. It looks like something might be wrong." Tim handed the scope to Steve.

As all four tribes raced to the flag, Mark realized what Ruby Tribe was attempting. Four of the Emerald Tribe riders were out in front. It was "Donavan's Ploy." It had to be. The Ruby Team was impeding the other two tribes and letting the inexperienced fourth team of Emerald Tribe get the flag. That meant that one or two members of Ruby Tribe didn't ride out. They were waiting to ambush the unwary, inexperienced Emerald Tribe rider just before they reached the Emerald corral. They would surprise the Emerald rider and take the flag. The Emerald horse would be too tired to outmaneuver the fresh mounts of the way-layers.

Mark let his horse fall behind the pack. Jamal looked over his shoulder and saw Mark. Jamal slowed his steed enough for Mark to catch up. Mark shouted, "Donavan's Ploy!"

Jamal nodded his head that he understood. Mark knew that Jamal knew exactly what to do. Krisa had seen to it that the team studied for this very play. She didn't let them practice it out in the open. She hoped that spying eyes would realize that they hadn't practiced it and make an attempt to use the tactic. Her idea had worked.

Jamal would hold back and wait for a pass, making the other team believe that they had taken the bait. Mark would go back and engage the ambushers just before Jamal returned with the flag. Mark stopped his horse and dismounted. He examined the front left hoof of the horse. He wanted to give the impression that something was wrong with his mount. He got back on the horse and rode slowly back toward the corral.

Steve said, "I think you're right. He's checking his horse's hoof."

Tim said, "Must have picked up a stone. Wait, Mark must have forgotten his utility tool. He is heading back to the corral."

Mark heard the announcer's voice. "And it looks like young Mark Young's mount has some sort of injury. It looks like he's out of play."

A few minutes later, Jamal's mount was running full tilt back toward the corral. The pack was being held back by Ruby and Emerald tribes. Just as Jamal approached Mark, Mark brought his mount to a full out run and ran the remaining short distance beside Jamal.

Tim was on his feet. "Ah ha. I knew it. It had to be. Mark would never forget his utility tool. It is 'Donavan's Ploy.' He is smart. He caught on to it pretty quick."

"Folks... that's 'Donavan's Ploy.'" The announcer sounded positively giddy. "We haven't seen that old trick in years. Young was good to have spotted it so soon."

There was only one Ruby rider laying in wait. Mark engaged him just long enough for Jamal to get by.

The announcer sounded mournful. "Ruby tribe miscalculated that one."

The announcer's voice boomed again. "There it is; nine points for Emerald Tribe and three cheers for Mark Young and Jamal Terfa."

The crowd was cheering. Mark saluted the Ruby rider and smiled.

The next flag was flying. Krisa called to Mark. "Keep that up, and you'll make third team in no time." The flag hit the ground and they were off.

Nick slapped Mark on the back. "That was pretty good. How did you spot it so quickly?"

"I knew the Ruby players had to be tired. I figured that they would try something. I took it easy heading out and watched. It wasn't hard to spot."

Chenoa was grinning. "Good job, Mark."

"Thanks."

Nick put his arm around Mark's shoulder. "What are you planning for the bonus flag?"

"I don't want to say right now. I'll fill you in when the time is right."

Thirty flags had been played when Mark decided that it was time to go for the bonus flag. It was about forty-five minutes before sunset, which would be the end of the match. He gathered up all of the number four-team members for a huddle.

"I've been watching the other corrals. No one has guarded the backside of the corrals all day. I've talked to some of our horses. When I give the signal, they will just go over to the other corrals. Six of us will go to round up the strays. This creates a diversion. While this is going on, two of us will be scaling the columns around the moat, going for the bonus flag. That leaves four of us to slip into the back of the other's corrals and capture their flags. Hopefully, all eyes will either be on The Island and the attempt to get the bonus flag or on the wayward horses."

Cap'n Ben said, "I like it. I'll go to The Island with you. I've never faced down a bear before. There's a story about how my great, great grandfather did once. I'd like to give it a try."

LeOmi said, "I'm in for getting their flags."

Nick and Jamal chorused, "Me, too."

Chenoa said, "I'll go after the horses."

Mark whistled. About twenty or so horses jumped over the Emerald Tribe's corral fence. They ran to the other three corrals and jumped the fence. Chenoa led five other Emerald Tribe players after the horses.

The announcer said, "It looks like we have a little commotion in the corrals. It looks like there are some loose horses. Let's get them rounded up, guys."

Mark and Cap'n Ben aimed crossbows with grappling hook bolts up at the stone structure. Swish. The rope was carried aloft by the bolts. What they didn't see was that Slone Voif and Ricky Barns were on the other side of the moat doing the same thing. Mark and Cap'n Ben started their ascent.

The announcer's voice was a dull drone in Mark's ears. "Calvin, for Agate, has the flag. He's getting hemmed in. The flag is up. Carol, for Agate, makes the catch. Wait... what is that... we have some action around the moat. Players are going for the bonus flag."

Tim was looking through his scope again. "It looks like Mark and Cap'n Ben are going for the bonus flag... wait... Slone Voif and Ricky Barns are going up the other side." Tim handed the scope to Steve.

LeOmi led the raiders to the back of Diamond's corral. They rolled under the fence and calmly walked up to the cache of flags. Nobody saw them when they took the flags to the fence and laid them on the ground.

Two of the Emerald horses reared and tried to provoke a clash with some of Diamond's horses. Chenoa mounted one of the aggressive horses and rode it out of the corral. The horse reared and she slid off the unsaddled back. The horse tried to reenter the Diamond corral and some Diamond players blocked the way.

Mark, Cap'n Ben, Slone and Ricky reached the top of the Stonehenge-like structure at about the same time. Bears were starting to run up the ramps to the top of the inner ring. It wouldn't take the bears long to cross the links from the inner ring to the outer ring.

Shirley was on her feet looking down at The Island. "Are those real bears?"

"Yes ma'am, they are. Do not worry. They have never killed anybody. Some got scratched up before, but that was it."

Cap'n Ben said to Mark, "Lay down. The bears will see Slone and Ricky first when they get up here. When they go for them; that will be our chance to go for the flag."

LeOmi's raiders crouched as they walked to the Ruby corral, under the fence and over to the flags. Nobody noticed them. They grabbed up the flags and laid them outside of the corral.

The Emerald horses in the Ruby corral were raising a ruckus. The Ruby horses were becoming very agitated. It was all that the Ruby and the Emerald players could do to keep the horses apart and quieted.

Shirley clasped her hands and leaned toward Tim. "You're kidding, right? Those bears aren't dangerous, are they?"

"What would be the point of having tame bears? Of course, they are dangerous."

The announcer said, "It looks like we have four players going for the bonus flag. They look like Cap'n Ben, Slone Voif, Mark Young and who's that other kid... Ricky Barns. It looks like they are in for a bear of a time... Oh, yeah... John Grob scores for Emerald Tribe."

Slone and Ricky lay down, too. The bears saw both groups and started heading to whichever one they were closer to. Mark saw that the second link to his left was devoid of any activity. The link closest to him had two bears on it making tracks right for him. He decided to make a run for that link before the bears reached the outer ring. The only hope that Cap'n Ben had was to climb part way back down his rope and hope that the bears went away.

Shirley said, "Well, he can always jump into the moat."

Tim chuckled. "Oh, no ma'am. He does not want to do that. There are leviathans in the moat."

LeOmi's raiders found that Jasper Tribe was easy pickings, too. They started making their way back to Emerald Tribe's corral with the flags.

Chenoa and her group were finishing rounding up the Emerald horses. As if on cue, the Emerald horses settled down and started heading back to their own corral.

The announcer was following the action at The Island. He had given up on commenting on the other players on the field. "Cap'n Ben is going over the side... I think he is going to climb back down."

Mark ran past the link with the bears on it. They roared when he passed. He made it to the empty link and started across to the inner ring.

The crowd let loose with concerted shouts of amazement.

Cap'n Ben rappelled part way down the stone column. Two bears stopped above him. They were looking over the edge and swinging their heads back and forth. Cap'n Ben decided to ease on down the column. When his feet were firmly on the ground, an idea hit him. He ran for the crossbow that he had lain in the sand. He cocked it and ran back to the rope.

The announcer said, "Mark has made it to The Island. It took a lot of guts to get past those bears."

Shirley had her fist to her mouth, watching the action intently.

Cap'n Ben whistled to get Chenoa's attention as she was walking a couple of horses back to the corral. "Chenoa, I need a horse over here." He flicked the rope so that a wave traveled up it and released the grappling hook.

Chenoa mounted one of the horses that were with her and rode over to Cap'n Ben.

The announcer said, "It looks like Slone and Ricky have given up. They are heading back down. They might be thinking of heading Mark off when he gets across the moat. I should say _if_ he gets across the moat."

Mark saw Slone and Ricky scrambling back onto their ropes. He saw the flag straight ahead. He scanned for bears on The Island that might threaten him. He didn't see any. He made it to the flag and pulled it from its mount.

The announcer said, "Mark has the bonus flag. He still has to get back across the moat and back to Emerald's corral."

Cap'n Ben shouted to Mark when Chenoa rode up. "Mark! Over here!" He handed Chenoa the loose end of the rope. He pointed the crossbow up and fired. The rope snaked its way through the air toward The Island. Slone and Ricky were in a full-out sprint, heading for Cap'n Ben.

Mark ran for the rope. He grabbed it and wrapped it around his wrist before jumping into the water.

Chenoa set her mount into motion. "Yah!" The steed set out at a full run. When the rope tightened, it jerked Mark forward.

The force on the rope pulled Mark under. A terrible stench filled his mind, even though he was holding his breath. He felt an overwhelming desire to get the terrible thing out of the water. He knew that he was feeling what the leviathan that had targeted him was feeling. His head broke the surface. He knew the leviathan was only moments away. He was being pulled across the surface of the water at a fearsome speed. He didn't know if he would make it to the shore before the leviathan caught up with him.

The announcer was shouting now, "Mark is in the water... I see motion in the depths. A leviathan has got the smell of him... Hurry, Mark!"

Cap'n Ben was standing by to grab the flag as soon as Mark reached the shore.

Chenoa let go of the rope when Cap'n Ben whistled. The rope slid from the saddle's pommel before she could come to a stop.

Cap'n Ben pulled Mark out of the moat and just as he did, the water detonated. A fifty-foot-long sail-back ornathoptus launched from the surface. It sailed straight up, high into the air. It reached its apex way above the eighth level of the school, where the spectators were, and stretched its fins out. It glided for a moment, setting its course back to the moat. It folded its fins back and dove straight for the moat, like a guided missile. It hit the water with barely a splash.

Tim watched as the flying leviathan shot skyward. "Beautiful! That is a sail-back ornathoptus."

Cap'n Ben looked at Mark with his mouth open. "That'd sure make a leprechaun drop his pot of gold." He grinned and took the flag from Mark. He started running toward Chenoa.

The announcer continued, "Whoa... That was close... Mark made it out of the water just in time. Cap'n Ben has the flag for a handoff to... Chenoa Day."

She took the flag and made like a jackrabbit for the corral. When she tossed the flag into the corral, cheers erupted from the crowd.

"One hundred and forty-four points for Emerald Tribe."

Krisa was leading the pack back. She carried the thirty-fifth and final flag of the match. Charlie Goodfellow signaled sunset and the end of the game, just after she threw the flag into the corral.

The crowd was roaring.

The announcer called out, "That ends the match. By my count, Emerald tribe has two hundred and ninety-one points. They had one hundred and forty-seven points with that last flag and one hundred and forty four points added with the bonus flag. That's a very big win for Emerald Tribe."

Chenoa rode up to Krisa. "Krisa, the announcer is wrong."

"What do you mean, he's wrong? I counted the points myself. He's right."

"We captured the other teams' flags."

"You're kidding? That's funny. Nobody has done that in years."

"I'm not kidding. We have them."

"How did you get them without being challenged and no one seeing you?"

"It was Mark's idea. We created two diversions and then we sneaked in the back of the corrals."

"Well, if you have them, go get them. March them out onto the field."

Chenoa yelled, "Listen up! Grab a flag and go out on the field. The announcer didn't count all of our flags."

Players scrambled to get a flag and get out onto the field.

The announcer sounded. "Hold on, folks. Emerald Tribe is challenging the score. They're coming onto the field with their flags for a recount... Folks, I count thirty-six flags... Emerald Tribe has all the flags! That's a whopping seven hundred and thirty nine points. What an upset! I've been announcing here for more than fifty years. I've never seen anything like it. This is one for the history books. How'd they do that?"

### Chapter 15

# Christmas

Mystery is best understood through the eyes of someone else.

By the end of November, everything was pretty much routine. Mark started to ponder the events of the previous months. He wondered what his life would be like if he wasn't at The Seventh Mountain. His previous life all seemed pretty mundane to him now. He knew that this was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

He thought about his friends and tried to figure out what would be the perfect Christmas presents to get for them. The shopping mall sold just about anything that anyone could ever want. There had to be a thousand shops in the three and a half miles of mall space, perhaps more. Not to mention the activity centers that occupied the center of the first level of the mountain.

There was an elaborate bowling alley, several Olympic sized swimming pools, two skating rinks, one for ice and one for wheels, a skateboard park, a stunt bike park, basketball courts, baseball, soccer and football fields, go-carts, bumper cars and you name it inside the first level of the mountain. Everything was indoors.

The problem for Mark was that he didn't want to get just anything that you could buy at some store. The relationship with his friends, although spanning a short three months, was one of those that you just knew was going to last for a lifetime. Jamal, Nick and Chenoa had become like close family; they were not just friends.

The same went for Tim, not that he wouldn't be pleased that Mark had gotten him a gift. It was just that Mark couldn't think of anything really special for him, either.

After all, Tim, with the help of Gerod, had saved his life, but that wasn't the only thing. Tim was more like an uncle than just a counselor. He wasn't as much a part of his life as his parents or brother was, but he was much closer than any other relative that he had ever known.

He remembered something. What was it that Tim had said about the art in the hall? Oh, yeah, anything that you were interested in could be bought at the end-of-the-year art auction. I wonder if I can have an artist make something for me?

Mark decided that instead of going to lunch that he would go to the fourth level, arts section. He would be missed at lunch, but it couldn't be helped. He would just tell his friends that he had something to do.

The fourth level had all kinds of artwork on the walls and standing on the floor. There was more here than he had seen anywhere else in the school. Some paintings were as big as movie screens, tapestries hung here and there were statues carved in marble, granite, and other stones, and some were cast in metal and plaster and plastic. It was absolutely remarkable.

The sounds were very different here. Somewhere off to the left, a choir was singing and musical instruments were playing something with an energetic tempo.

"Hi, there. You're a little out of place, aren't you?"

He turned to see who just had spoken. It was a medium sized lady wearing the standard black tunic with silver trim and a black cloak. Her round face held bright blue eyes and a warm, gentle smile. Her warm, auburn hair hung across her shoulders.

"No, ma'am. I'm in the right place. I was wondering if I could get somebody to make something for me?"

"Do you want to commission a piece of art?"

"I guess you could call it that. I just want to see if someone can make four little statues, all the same." Mark held his hands about two feet apart to indicate the size.

"I think that we can find someone to do that. I'm Jean Hall, head of the Arts Department. Tell me a little more about what you want, and I can guide you in the right direction."

"Okay. I'm Mark Young and I want something special for my friends. I guess; something about being pre-chosen."

"I see. I think I have just the artist for you. Follow me."

Mrs. Hall led the way through the corridor and into a very large room, even by Seventh Mountain standards. The room had the smell of burnt metal and solvents. Large tables, covered with debris from various art projects, were everywhere. Students in gray work tunics were busy with their tasks, doing this and that, here and there.

"Vince, I have someone here that I want you to meet."

Vince was dressed in a work tunic covered with stains and scorch marks. His hair was so close-cropped that it was hard to tell what color it was and his face was rugged, almost harsh. He walked up to Mark, wiping his hands on a rag. He offered his hand to Mark.

"Hello, I'm Vincent Von Hildergrase. What can I do for you?"

"Hi. I'm Mark Young. I'd like to get four small statues made."

"Mark Young... I saw you in the flags match. You guys were great."

"Thanks."

Mrs. Hall said, "I'll leave you two to chat." She turned and left.

"So, let's go over here to the sketch pad and you can tell me what you want."

Mark sat down with him at a table with a large sketchpad on it.

"So, describe what you want."

"I can show you if you like. I have Rooack Dabar. I can project my thoughts into your mind."

"Go for it."

"Okay, clear your mind and relax."

Vince looked at Mark and shrugged. He closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped.

Mark began thinking of the day that he and his friends had been pre-chosen. He went from the horses riding up, to their riding off on them.

"Wow! That was incredible."

"What do you think? Can you make four statues just alike?"

"Sure, let me draw you what I'm thinking." Vince took a piece of charcoal and began drawing. A couple of minutes later he showed the pad to Mark.

"That is the primary image that I got from you. Do you like it? I think it says it all."

"It's wonderful."

The image showed The General rearing and Mark reaching up to him. The other three horses were kneeling, with his three friends walking up to them, each with a hand outstretched.

"All right, then, come back tomorrow, and I'll have a working model made up and we can discuss any changes."

Mark had enough time to make it back down for the last hour of lunch. Normally the group would go to The Oasis and use the first hour to confer with each other on their homework assignments, which were abundant. The second hour was used for eating.

Chenoa asked, "Where have you been? We waited for you for a bit, but I was hungry."

"Sorry, I had something that I had to do." Mark took a seat in the booth.

"What was so all-fired important?" Chenoa shoved her plate to the center of the table.

"A little Christmas shopping."

"Christmas shopping? Did you get anything?"

"Not yet, I'm still looking."

Shana came up and Mark ordered.

Jamal said, "He's right; we don't have a lot of free time. Lunch is about the only time that you can shop."

Nick said, "We'll have more free time after Christmas, when our rides with Mrs. Shadowitz are over."

Chenoa added, "That won't help us now. Sorry I got mad, but you should have told us."

"I didn't think about it until I was on my way here. Sorry I made you wait."

Jamal said, "Okay then, until Christmas vacation, we'll use the first hour of lunch to go shopping."

Nick asked, "Do we do it together or separately?"

Chenoa said, "Separate is better, until we finish shopping for each other."

* * *

The next day, before lunch, Mark went to see Vince.

"Hi, Mark. I've got it right over here."

Mark followed Vince to a table that was covered in plaster dust and chips. More than two-dozen small chisels were on the table with most of them covered in dust. The carving sat on a round plaster slab. It looked exactly like what he had drawn the day before. It gave him that eerie feeling of being in a dream and looking down on the events again, as they unfolded.

"If you like I can add small stones to the headdresses, just like the real ones."

Mark leaned in close and examined the carving. There was fine detail all over it. The manes on the horses looked as if they could have been real hair. He started to touch it.

"Hold it; don't touch it. The oils in your fingers will degrade the detail."

Mark continued to look at it. "It's absolutely beautiful. You're going to make three more just like it?"

"Oh, no. This is just the working model. I'll use it to make a mold for castings. I'll cast them in which ever metal you like: gold, silver, pewter, bronze, brass, nickel or whatever. I can cast it in plastics, too. Now, if you want it in stone, I have to carve those individually."

There was a lot more to it than Mark had imagined. All of the statues that he had ever seen were either bronze, like the ones in front of the city hall, or stone, like in the pictures in books. That was until he had been at The Seventh Mountain and specifically on the forth level. There had been all kinds of different metal statues in the hall, but it had just not sunken in that they were that different. He even remembered the plastic ones, now.

"I don't know. What do you think?"

"Well, that was a pretty special thing. It's likely to go down in Magi history, so you'll want it in something that will last a long time. Gold and silver are too gaudy, I think. Except for bronze and brass, the other metals just aren't noble enough to commemorate such an event. Marble would be my recommendation if you want stone, but that wouldn't be ready in time for Christmas."

"Which is better, bronze or brass?"

"Bronze is better."

"Okay, make them bronze and put the stones in."

"Are there any other changes you want to make?"

Mark used his finger to write in the dust on the table. "Title it 'For Friends' and put that on the base."

Vince wrote on the table. "Don't you mean 'Four Friends?'?"

Mark drew a line through what Vince had written. Mark was thinking intently of how he felt about his friends. "I mean 'For Friends.'"

Vince looked at Mark and nodded, slowly. He understood that these statues were for friends, indeed. "They'll be ready in two weeks."

The next day, Mark was going to Mr. Diefenderfer's shop to look at rings for his mother's Christmas present. A ring with everyone's birthstone would be just the thing for her.

The mall was crowded with people as it always was. He noticed some of the upper classmen from Emerald Tribe who weren't wearing the standard Tribe tunics, trimmed in emerald green. They were wearing jeans and shirts in about every other shade of green that exists. Other students were dressed in varying shades of orange or yellow or red or whatever colors their tribe happened to be. Other people, too old to be students, were dressed in normal clothes, like normal people. They must have been non-Magi, from Magi City.

He was walking past an island in the mall, featuring a fountain and several rather large plants, in the middle of the corridor, when he heard that all-too-familiar voice. It was the voice that always preceded a confrontation.

"Hello, Mark. Where's your friends?" Ralph Lawrence was in front of the pack. The pack had grown now; there were many more than a dozen of them. Slone was standing off to the side, watching.

"What, were you home-schooled by Jethro Bodine or something?"

Ralph turned to look at Slone. Slone said, "Jethro Bodine was a character in an old sit-com, the stupidest hillbilly ever created."

Ralph turned back to Mark. "You're saying I'm stupid?"

"Figure it out. It's lunch time, Christmas is coming, I'm in the mall..." Mark hummed the Jeopardy Theme Song.

Ralph threw a sweeping roundhouse punch at Mark. Mark easily leaned back to avoid it. This was followed by an upper cut that missed widely. Mark, bouncing on his toes, threw two stinging jabs straight into Ralph's nose.

Slone's crew rushed in and grabbed Mark, pinning his arms to his side. They looked at Slone.

"He's feckless, trash him." Slone pointed at a nearby trash container. It was made of heavy gauge wire like the ones found on street corners and at bus stops.

Mark was turned upside down with his arms still pinned to his side.

"HEY! What are you doing?" Chenoa, Jamal and Nick ran up and tried to free Mark.

Slone raised his hand and made a circling motion with his finger.

Jamal, Chenoa and Nick were immediately grabbed and turned upside down, arms pinned to their sides. All four were shoved, head first, into nearby trashcans.

Mark thought, _That's twice. You got me at the moat and now this. If this is what you want, you asked for it. Your time is coming._

The group managed to extricate themselves with the help of passersby.

Nick said, "I've got an idea. I'll tell you about it after we get back from vacation. He's not going to get away with it this time."

The days passed and the time for Christmas vacation arrived. Christmas decorations had been up for over a week now. There was a large tree in the common room. Manger scenes, glowing stars, twinkling lights, wreaths and trees bejeweled all of the halls and especially the mall.

Mark pulled the four boxes out from under his bed. The statues were heavy, and each had been boxed in a sturdy wooden crate with a rope carrying-handle. The rope was removable, which made them easier to wrap.

He hoisted them up and carried them, two at a time, down the hall and into the crowded common room, finally sitting them on a table. On his last trip, he brought out a large canvas bag that contained the presents for his family and a large copper etching that had been framed and wrapped in plain brown paper.

His friends had been making similar trips, as had all of the Emerald tribe. Counselors had been popping in and out, remanifesting their charges home for the holidays. It was almost their time to go.

Chenoa handed them all packages. "Go ahead, open them."

Jamal got a book titled, _Ethiopia's Legends_. "You remembered!"

Nick got a book titled, _Magi Inventions Throughout Time_.

Mark got a book titled, _Omar's Exhaustive History of Flags Strategy_.

Nick handed out his gifts to his friends. They were walkie-talkie rings. "They're keyed just to us. Look at the crest, use a pen or something to push who you want to talk to, and their ring vibrates, and then you can talk." The crest had the letters C, J, M and N. "They might come in handy."

They put the rings on and checked them out.

Jamal handed out his gifts. They were scrolls of their family histories.

"Sorry, Mark. I didn't have time to complete yours. Your family history is traceable much farther back than normal."

Jamal turned to Chenoa, "Did you know that your family is one of the very few pure Occoneechee blood lines left?"

He asked Nick, "Should we call you Sire? You're the descendant of a couple of kings."

"Did you all know that you come from a long line of Magi?"

Mark said, "Thanks Jamal. You guys open your gifts from me." Mark pointed to the boxes on the table.

They started opening their presents. Mark explained, "I knew from the start that we would be friends. The pre-choosing sealed that forever. To me, you'll always be my friends."

Shana popped back into the common room. She would be taking them home for Christmas vacation, just as she had done for the others. She was standing in for Tim.

"Good morning, Mark. You ready to go?" She was carrying a very large, flat package, wrapped in brown paper.

"Where's Tim?"

Mark grabbed up the statue by the rope handle. The etching was already in Aaron's Grasp.

"He said that he had some last minute stuff to finish. He asked me to take his students home for Christmas vacation."

Mark pointed at the package. "What's that?"

"It's a present for your family. One of the students in art class did a painting. She wants your family to have it."

"Can I see it?"

"Not yet. It's supposed to be opened by your family."

"Okay. I'm ready."

Shana extended her arm. Mark took it. She vanished, leaving Mark standing there, alone. A few moments later, she reappeared.

"What happened?"

"I took your arm and you just disappeared."

"You weren't concentrating."

"I didn't know that I was supposed to concentrate. Concentrate on what?"

"Goodness, how did Tim get you here in the first place?"

"I don't really know. It all happened so fast. We were walking down the sidewalk. He started to hand me a piece of paper. I went to get it. He turned around. I had to run to catch up. I took the paper and then I was here."

Shana spoke to the ceiling. "Very clever, Tim." She turned her attention back to Mark. "You were concentrating on touching something that he had. You need that same level of concentration to remanifest with someone. You also need to be able to see the sky. Think you can do it?"

He looked out the window. "I can try."

"Well, then. Let's try again, shall we?" She extended her arm to Mark.

Then next thing that he knew they were somewhere else. "Hey, this isn't my house."

"Actually, it is. It's your new house, in Virginia."

He looked around. A light snow blanketed the landscape. He could see the Newsome's house that was on the next hilltop, about a half-mile away.

"How did they get it built so quick?"

"Actually, it took them longer than they had planned. Magi carpenters hardly ever take more than two weeks to build a house. This one took three. Did you know that there are only two building inspectors for this whole county?"

"Magi built this house?"

"Well, yeah... Haven't you learned anything in Mr. Diefenderfer's class? Magi are always looking for ways to help people. You ready to go in?"

Mark paused to look at the house. Three stories of bright red brick stretched toward the sky. Smoke gently curled from the central chimney. Small balconies jutted from the third story windows. The porch wrapped around the entire house. The porch roof was almost flat, starting from just beneath the second story windows. Railings hemmed the top of the porch roof forming a second story deck, barely sloped so rain would not pool on it. Two wooden swings, one at either end of the front, hung from the ceiling of the first floor porch. The front door swung open.

Tim greeted the two. "Well, there you are. Come on inside. It is cold out there."

Mark ascended the seven stone steps that led up to the porch. "Hi, Tim. What are you doing here? I thought you were doing something at school."

"Nah, not at school. I moved all of your family's stuff here. They should be arriving anytime now."

Mark looked inside. Boxes and bags were everywhere. "How'd you do that?"

"Remanifested with it. Must have made fifty trips. Only took a couple of hours."

"Thanks... I think."

"Ah, nothing to it. You are welcome."

Parquet tile glistened on the floor. Built-in mahogany shelves lined the two facing walls in the front room. The front wall and ceiling was textured like an orange. Two narrow, open shelves, floor to ceiling, framed an opening into the next room. Mark could see their tiny kitchen table in there and a large fireplace crackling, releasing its warmth to all therein.

"Wow! Look at this place. This is like a mansion. My dad had enough money to pay for all of this?"

"I do not know. He does not even know that it has been built yet."

"Who paid for it?"

"I do not know for sure. I suspect that it was Mr. Diefenderfer."

"How'd you know what to build?"

"Your dad and mom let me see some drawings of what they wanted. We did the rest."

"Why?"

"Well, it is a present from the Seventh Mountain. Mr. Diefenderfer suggested it."

"You guys shouldn't have. I don't deserve this."

"I beg to differ. The Council of Elders took a vote. Every single one of them voted for it. What they say goes."

A horn honked outside. Mark looked out the window. His family had arrived. He swung the door open and ran out to meet them. Tim and Shana followed.

"Mark, I told you not to do this."

"I didn't, Dad, honest. This is a present from the school. Magi built it. I didn't even know about it 'til just a few minutes ago."

"He is right, Mr. Young. We built this house based on the drawings that you showed me. It is a gift."

"I don't know what to say. Wow! I never expected this, not in a thousand years."

"All of your stuff is inside. Moved it myself, this morning, after you left."

Shana crossed her arms and rubbed her biceps. "Let's get inside, out of the cold."

Tim and Mark followed the family into the house.

Steve said, "Wow, look at this! Inlaid hardwood floors, built in bookshelves, textured walls, fireplace. You guys are too much."

Shana handed Shirley the package.

"What's this?"

"It's a housewarming gift, a Christmas present from one of the students at school. She wanted you to have it."

Shirley opened it. It was a painting of the sail-back ornathoptus erupting out of the moat around The Island. The perspective was from high above.

Mark and Cap'n Ben were tiny figures below. Shirley put her hand over her mouth.

"It was the most spectacular event that has happened at the school this year. It's been selected for the cover for this year's yearbook."

Shirley didn't say a word. Tim took the painting.

"It will look good, right over the fireplace mantel. I can hang it there for you, if you like." He held the painting up over the mantel.

Shirley didn't say anything. She walked out of the living room, through the dining room and into the kitchen.

Steve said, "I think that she's a bit overwhelmed by everything."

Tim said, "I understand. I think it is time for us to leave."

Mark said, "Wait." He pulled the etching out of Aaron's Grasp and handed it to Tim. "Sorry, Shana. I didn't get anything for you."

"That's okay, I didn't get anything for you, either."

Tim said, "What is this?" He pulled the paper off. It was a copper etching depicting Ms. Vanmie sneaking up on Tim and Tim poking her in the forehead, under his arm, with a marker.

"Wow; that is great. Where did you get it?"

"Vince did it years ago. He read my thoughts about how I felt about you and gave it to me when I went to pick up the statues that he made for me." Mark pointed at his statue.

Tim bent down and lifted the statue out of the box, holding it up in one hand. "Wow, this is beautiful."

"Thanks. I had four made, one for each of us."

Steve and James looked at the little statue. "That is something, son. That's what you were telling us about, the pre-choosing."

"Yes sir. That's it."

Tim sat the statue back down into the box.

Steve said, "Thanks for everything, Tim. I'm sorry ma'am; I don't know your name."

"Sorry about that. I'm Shana, Shana O'Riley."

"Nice to meet you, Miss O'Riley."

"Call me Shana, everyone does."

"Okay, Shana. Thank you, again. Thanks for everything."

"Well, you're welcome, I'm sure. We'll be off, now. Nice seeing you and your family, again."

Tim and Shana disappeared.

Steve walked to the kitchen, pausing in the dining room to admire the workmanship. Their kitchen table was dwarfed in the room.

The kitchen was huge, too, as kitchens go. Marble countertops lined every inch of free space along the walls, with cabinets above and below. A movable island was in the center. The pantry was off to the right. Shirley was looking out the rear window that was behind the kitchen sink.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

Shirley didn't turn to face him. A large tear fell from her cheek and splashed into the sink. "That painting. Something more is going to happen to Mark. Something terrible. I just know it."

"Sweetheart, he's in the safest place that he can be."

"That won't stop him. He wants Mark dead. I can feel it. Benrah wants Mark dead!"

Someone knocked on the front door. James looked out the window and then opened the door. It was Mr. and Mrs. Newsome.

"Hi there, son. Are your parents here?"

"Yes sir–"

Steve hurriedly walked back into the living room. "Mr. and Mrs. Newsome. This is a pleasant surprise. Come in... Come in."

"You boys, there's two coolers in the back of the truck. How 'bout bringing them in for me?"

Mark and James went out to the truck.

"What brings you by?"

"Those fellows that built this place said that you should be here by today. We made some food for lunch and supper. We saw you pull up into the drive, so we came on over to help you get settled in."

"That's awfully nice of you, but you didn't have too."

"Nonsense. That's what neighbors do."

"Well, take your coats off and stay a while. All of our stuff is already here, as you can see." Steve pointed at all of the bags and boxes. "All we have to do now is put it where it belongs."

James and Mark came back in, each carrying a cooler.

James asked, "Where do you want these, Dad?"

"Take them to the kitchen. Put the stuff on the counter."

Mr. Newsome's eye caught on the painting that was still sitting on the mantel. He walked up to it and said under his breath, "Nice picture. Sail-back ornathoptus, if I'm not mistaken. That sure brings back some memories."

"How in the world do you know that?"

"Well, I wasn't really sure when I met Mark. He's a Magi, isn't he? Seventh Mountain if I'm right."

"Yeah, but..."

"Me, too. Only, I flunked out in my last year. Couldn't get the hang of remanifesting. Never could convince myself that I wanted to be someplace that I wasn't. I always wanted to be right where I was. Man, I miss it. He's going to have a lot of fun."

The rest of the day was spent putting things away. The house was so large that it still seemed empty when everything was put into its proper place. All of the kitchenware barely filled two upper and two lower cabinets. One single bedroom closet could have accommodated every bit of clothing that they all had.

Steve pulled out a tape measure and checked the distance from floor to ceiling. It was ten feet. That would be tall enough for a fairly large Christmas tree. There were a couple hundred acres of woods that the timber company hadn't gotten to yet. That would probably provide the tree.

The next day the entire family went looking for a Christmas tree. They found one all right, nine feet tall and six feet wide at the lowest branches. It looked just right in the living room. They had to go to the store for more lights and decorations. What they already had just wasn't enough.

The decorations that they had just could not do justice to this monster of a Christmas tree. Keepsakes from James and Mark's childhood looked almost lost among the branches. The new lights and garlands hung alongside them, making them look almost like strangers in a crowd, but soon it all looked merry, like Christmas should look.

Christmas Eve came and filled the house with the sweet smells of evergreen, turkey, fresh bread, pumpkin pie, cinnamon apples and gingerbread cookies. Steve had invited the Newsome's over for Christmas Eve dinner. He and Shirley wanted to return the hospitality that the Newsome's had shown them.

Christmas morning finally arrived. Four identical, very large, brightly wrapped boxes stood in front of the tree, each one labeled with a family member's name.

Mark and James came running downstairs at the crack of dawn.

"Whoa, look at that." James examined the large boxes in front of the tree. He tried to pick his up and failed. "What do you think it is?"

"I don't know."

"Let's open them."

"We should wait for mom and dad."

"Okay, let's check out the stockings."

The stockings contained the usual things, nuts, oranges, small boxes of chocolate-covered nuts and raisins and a couple of small gifts.

Mark and James were sitting in front of the tree enjoying some of the treats from the stocking when the camera flashed. Nobody noticed the hooded figure that looked in from the porch window. The usual Christmas pictures were being taken this year by their dad on one of his rare Christmases at home. That

was something that both boys were glad would happen every Christmas from now on, since Steve was officially out of the military.

"Good morning, boys. Your mom will be down in a minute and then you can tear into those packages."

Both sons said at once, "Good morning, Dad. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas." Steve took a seat at the dining room table after putting a few logs on the smoldering embers in the fireplace. They caught and began to fill the room with warmth.

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Mom." Their mom was coming down the stairs, but both boys turned to look at their dad.

Steve waited for Shirley to make it to the table. "Go for it."

The paper came off their boxes in an instant, and they were flung open to reveal western style saddles.

They looked at Steve. "Horses?"

"Not yet, but they're coming this spring."

Mark said, "That's great, I love horses."

James nudged Mark. "Yeah, maybe you can teach me to ride like a Magi!"

Mark thought that was the perfect opportunity. He reached under the tree and removed James's gift and handed it to him.

"What's this?"

"Open it and see."

James tore the paper back. "A real sword, just like yours."

"There's more, keep going."

"Single Combat Strategy and Tactics?"

"Yeah, it's your combat class textbook for next year. Ms. Vanmie gave me special permission to get it for you."

James stared at Mark for what seemed like the longest time. "I've been accepted?"

"Yep. I got the Council of Elders to let me tell you."

"Mom, Dad, did you hear that? I've been accepted."

James turned to look at his parents. There was a silent flash, but again, no one except the person on the porch really noticed that another picture had been snapped.

Mark reached under the tree again, removed two small packages and took them to his parents.

"This one is for you, Mom." He handed her the tiny package. "This one is for you." He handed his dad the other little package.

Shirley opened her gift. "Oh, Mark! This is beautiful." She put it on her finger and held it out to look at it.

"It's a family ring. The diamond and the ruby in the middle are for you and dad, the emerald and agate represent me and James."

Steve opened his gift and held up two sets of keys. "Keys? These aren't car keys and they're not house keys."

"Look out back."

Steve got up and looked out the kitchen window. "I see a tarp covering something. Looks like we got about six more inches of snow last night."

Mark looked out the window. The ATV's were covered with a tarp.

"They're ATVs, Dad. The guy who delivered them last night must have put a tarp over them because it was snowing."

"ATVs, like in Albuquerque?"

"Yes sir, only better ones."

Breakfast was followed by the troop heading out to ride the ATVs in the snow. Steve pulled the tarp off the machines and gave them a once-over. Mark and James were engaged in a snowball fight.

Shirley looked past Mark at something that she thought she saw move in the snow. She was right. A figure, made of snow, stood up, wielding a scimitar made of ice. Another stood and then another. They looked like an evil army of putrescent corpses, all made out of snow and ice.

Shirley's hand flew to her mouth and she screamed. The figure that had been unseen in the distance, crouching in the snow, disappeared.

Steve turned to look at Shirley and he saw them. Another dozen stood up.

"Mark, behind you!"

Mark turned and saw them. "THRALLS!" He withdrew his sword from Aaron's Grasp and pulled it from its scabbard. He dropped the scabbard and made a figure eight with the sword in front of himself.

The thralls, forming an arc in front of Mark, took a half step back to form a fighting stance. They all screamed at once, horrific and spine chilling. Shirley fainted.

Mark wondered why the thralls were moving so slowly. In fact everything was moving in super slow motion except for himself. He didn't have time to think about it; he had to act.

Steve began running to Shirley.

The thrall closest to James had aimed a cut at James's neck. Mark's blade came up, striking the thrall's wrist and then across, separating its head from its body. The rest of the thralls were dispatched just as quickly and just as easily. They were all moving in very slow motion. It was like they were all almost frozen in time.

Mark stopped, surveyed his surroundings, and saw no more danger. He gave his blade a jerk as if to dislodge any invisible blood that might have been on it. A figure, wielding a broad sword, appeared directly in front of him. Mark raised his blade to attack before realizing that it was Harmonious Thorpe.

Before Mark could speak, other figures started appearing, each brandishing a sword. Tim, Gerod, Shana, Mrs. Shadowitz and a host of others remanifested all around him.

Mr. Thorpe looked at the piles of snow. His voice shattered the silence.

"What! I've been freezing my nose off for three hours now, guarding you, and you don't even need it. You don't even have the foggiest idea of what you did, do you boy?"

Mrs. Shadowitz said, "That's quite enough, Harmonious."

Steve, picking Shirley up, called to Mark, "Are you all right, son? That's the most amazing thing that I have ever seen. Do all Magi fight like that?"

James said, "Wow! That was way cool! How'd you do that?"

Mrs. Shadowitz stepped up to Steve. "Gerod, take care of Mrs. Young." She looked at Steve. "Can you describe what you saw?"

Harmonious Thorpe said, "It's obvious what he saw. It was Maode Maharaw; an ability well beyond his skill level."

"Be quiet, Harmonious. Mr. Young, if you please."

"Mark moved like a blur. This whole fight took less than five seconds, and there must have been three or four dozen of those things."

Mark had his hands on his knees and was panting, trying to catch his breath. "Fifty-two, there were fifty-two of them." He bent to pick up the sheath and fell to his knees.

Mrs. Shadowitz stepped up to Mark and grabbed him, letting her sword fall to the ground. Steve ran up, too.

She stooped to examine Mark. "Maode Maharaw, an ability that takes years of practice to master, appeared when needed. Very interesting, indeed." She turned to Gerod. "Is she going to be all right?"

"Yes ma'am. She's not injured, just fainted."

"Very well, get her into the house." She raised her voice. "Thank you all. You may now return to what you were doing."

Gerod took Shirley into the house.

Steve asked, "What's this Maode Maharaw?"

"Maode Maharaw is from the old language. It just means very fast, but for Magi it has a special meaning."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I'm sure that you have had experiences that are quite out of the ordinary. For example, have you ever been so scared that when the adrenalin started flowing, everything seemed to move in slow motion?"

"Sure, that's pretty common in close combat."

"Exactly. Magi train to produce skills like that and many more; so that they can call those skills up when needed. The mystery is; Mark hasn't been trained in this, yet."

"Isn't that dangerous, I mean using adrenalin like that?"

Mrs. Shadowitz looked Steve straight in the eye. "Oh, yes. It can be. It's very taxing on the body. In five seconds, he was as exhausted as if he had been in all out combat for over an hour. If it's over used, it can kill."

"That's not good."

"Indeed. Now here's the kicker, Mark is not even very good at sword combat. This event just adds to the mystery."

Steve looked at his son. Mark was still out of breath.

"I estimate based on the number of opponents and the time that it took to dispatch them that he was working six-hundred to six-hundred and fifty times faster than normal. One hundred times faster than normal is standard. Two-hundred times faster is exceptional."

"You think that he was working that fast."

"Oh, yes. AlHufus Diefenderfer and Joseph Young were exceptional, and the two of them lost to a group of about fifty thralls."

Steve remembered the dinner that the family had with Mr. Diefenderfer. "Joseph Young, my great, great, great grandfather, was the one that was killed in the fight in the museum?"

"He was thrown into the labyrinth... Mark needs nourishment, sugar and salt. Get him a soda and some peanuts, if you have them."

Steve looked at James. James nodded, ran up the back porch stairs and into the house.

"What were those things, anyway?"

"Foul manifestations, thralls, sub-golem monstrosities, slaves to their master's will. Benrah can't create life, only copy it and not very well at that, fetid, soulless things."

Everyone, excluding Mr. Thorpe, walked up to Mark, slapped him on the back and said, "Well done!" before disappearing.

Ms. Vanmie added, "You'll be glad to know that you just aced your fourth year mid-term for single combat. Congratulations."

### Chapter 16

# Revenge is a Dish Best Not Smelled

There is a time for every purpose.

Back at school, Mark waited for his friends in the Emerald dorm common room. Nick came in carrying two large, obviously heavy, suitcases.

"What's that?"

"It's just a little something that I cooked up for Slone and his crew."

"Oh, yeah. What is it?"

Chenoa and Jamal walked in and saw Nick with the suitcases.

Mark said, "Nick's cooked up something to get Slone back with."

Jamal said, "Revenge is not a good thing. It only leads to more revenge."

Nick said, "I'm not going to let him get away with what he did to us in the mall. That'll only make him think that he can do anything to us, anywhere and anytime that he wants, and we won't do anything back. Besides, it's not really revenge. It's a practical joke."

Chenoa asked, "What kind of practical joke?"

"I'm going to make him and all of his buddies crap in their pants."

Mark said, "Slone doesn't scare that easy."

"No, I'm not going to scare him. I'm going to make them evacuate, literally."

"What are you going to do, put laxatives in their food?"

"No, I'm going to use an infra-sonic weapon."

"What's an infra-sonic weapon?"

"It uses sound waves that are so low that you can't hear them."

"I don't get it."

"You see, high-power, low-frequency sound has all kinds of effects, so you have to be careful with it. It vibrates you and can explode eyeballs or any other organ and stuff like that. You set the right frequency for what effect you want. Three point three hertz makes anyone in the sound field have an instant bowel movement."

"You invented this?"

"Kind of. Nikola Tesla came up with the idea. He was a pretty famous scientist."

Jamal said, "Yeah, I've heard of him. Wasn't he the one that invented all that lightning stuff?"

"Yeah, that and a lot more. He did all kinds of things. He made an earthquake once and a death-ray gun that destroyed part of Siberia... Tunguska, I think."

"So, Nikola Tesla invented it."

"Well, not really. He did all kinds of experiments with frequency and resonance and stuff. He speculated about this kind of thing in his notes. My dad helped me with the calculations and I did the rest. The only problem is that it's so big. I had to use surplus military parts from a submarine sonar system."

"So, what do we do?"

"We need to catch them out in the open, away from everybody else, and we need to stay pretty far away, too."

Chenoa said, "They practice swords out by The Island, every Saturday afternoon while we're riding with Mrs. Shadowitz."

Jamal said, "We finished that just before Christmas vacation."

Nick added, "If we're in the bleachers, that should work."

Mark said, "Sounds like a plan."

Nick said, "This Saturday is a flags match. It'll have to wait 'til next Saturday."

Two weeks passed and the slated Saturday came. They were hauling the two suitcases to the eighth level bleachers by way of the stairs when Mr. Thorpe caught them. Mark's being watched all the time definitely had its drawbacks.

"That's rather interesting. What do you have there?"

The group stopped on the landing and turned to face Mr. Thorpe, who was coming up the stairs, smiling like a cat that had just cornered its prey. He pointed to the suitcases.

"Open them up; let me see."

Mark said, "This is personal property, sir."

"I'll be the judge of that, now, let's see it!" His voice vibrated them, inside, like he was an infrasonic weapon himself.

Nick unzipped the suitcase that he was carrying, revealing four soup-can-sized long tubes that had been painted black and some electrical cables. Mark unzipped his, revealing a battery bank and more electrical cables.

"So, you think that I can be fooled that easily, do you? We'll see about that. March yourselves up to the next level and out onto the balcony. We'll see what the engineering section has to say about this _personal property."_

Mark and Nick zipped up the suitcases and lugged them up and out onto the fifth level balcony, as instructed. Jamal and Chenoa followed.

Mr. Thorpe held his elbows out. "You're going to remanifest to the engineering section with me. Now! You two, I'll deal with later." He pointed at Chenoa and Jamal.

Mark and Nick touched his elbows and instantly they were standing in front of the door to the power generating facility.

"Follow me."

Mr. Thorpe opened the door and strutted into the room with Mark and Nick following, carrying the suitcases, which were heavy before, but seemed much heavier now.

The figure behind the counter was examining some papers on a clipboard. He had short, curly brown hair and a handlebar moustache curling in a neat little spiral at the tips. He was tall and lanky and, without a doubt, surprised to see Mr. Thorpe.

"Mr. Thorpe, what brings you here?"

"These boys have something that I want you to take a look at."

The man looked at Mark and Nick. "Hi, Nick. How's your dad doing?"

The man was Johan Müeller, a frequent visitor to Nick's dad's underground laboratory and someone whom Nick had met on several occasions. Magi science labs outside of the mountains were typically hidden from public scrutiny by being built underground.

"Hello, Mr. Müeller. He's doing all right."

Mr. Thorpe threw his hands into the air. "Great, just what I need."

"What you got there?"

"It's my infra-sonic prototype."

"So, you finally got it to work, did you?"

"Yes sir, only the power supply is too big and heavy."

"Yeah, what are you using?"

"Ni-cad batteries."

"You'd have to use enough of those to fill a suitcase."

Nick pointed to the one that Mark was carrying. "That's this one."

"What are you using for emitters?"

"Towed-array sonar transducers, military surplus, not very good ones, but they work."

"I see, you're using them as a beat frequency oscillator, mixing the signals at a distance."

"Yes sir, that's it."

Mr. Thorpe spun and huffed toward the door. "I'll just leave you two chums to chitchat." He continued out, leaving Mark and Nick stranded and officially in violation of the rule prohibiting students from being beyond the wall unsupervised.

Mark and Nick looked at each other, paused and then shrugged.

Mr. Müeller said, "What was he so annoyed about?"

Mark said, "He thought that he had caught us doing something against the rules or something."

"Having that isn't against the rules. In fact, you should get extra-credit for it. I'll even suggest that to Mrs. Allen, your science teacher."

Nick said, "Thanks. How do we get back? These cases are heavy."

"Oh, just take an auto-car to Magi City and then hop on the subway. It'll take you right back to the school's underground platform."

Mr. Müeller raised the counter to let them through to the auto-car station. Mark and Nick walked through the counter and started down the hall.

"Hold up a second. I've got some stuff that you can use to make that thing smaller and lighter." Mr. Müeller disappeared into a room off the hall and returned a few minutes later with a canvas bag.

"There's two, high efficiency, ultrasonic transducers in there along with a micro-fusion supply, a beat frequency oscillator chip and a few other things. You should be able to shrink the size and weight of that thing, considerably."

The bag couldn't have weighed more than a pound or two. The wires alone in Nick's prototype weighed much more than that. If what Mr. Müeller had said was true, then he could build a hand held model. Nick looked in the bag. It looked like everything that he would need.

"Thank you, Mr. Müeller."

"You just show me what you come up with and that'll be thanks enough."

The ride to the subway station was much slower than they had experienced before. Its leisurely pace let them see part of Magi City. Two story frame houses lined the single street where they came in. Each house had a small sign out front that named the house's occupants. Tree lined sidewalks paralleled the street on either side.

Several miles down, the street came to what must have been the business section. Small shops lined the street with a few people walking to and fro, not much activity at all.

The auto-car pulled into an open area and the car's electronic voice said, "Destination reached, Magi City subway platform."

This area had a crowd by Magi City standards, maybe as many as thirty people, all apparently waiting for the subway. It seemed odd that no one was dressed in tribe colors except for Mark and Nick. They lugged the suitcases out of the car and up to the area where everyone seemed to be waiting.

It was cold there, being January and all, quite a change from the climate at the school. _Maybe all the different sections have their own climates._ It was a strange idea, but it seemed to fit. How could the school have a year-round, at least so far, desert climate and less than thirty miles away be freezing cold? It didn't make any sense according to normal thinking, but this place was anything but normal. The cold hadn't settled into them yet, but it was on them, gnawing away at their thin tunics. Wearing just sandals on their feet didn't help much either.

"You fellows lost?"

Mark and Nick turned to see who had spoken to them. It was an older man, bundled up in a parka, gloves, and a fur-lined hood.

"No sir. We just kind of got stranded in the engineering section and came here to catch the subway back to school."

"Yep, figured it might be something like that. Most folks know that we elected to have season changes here and it gets a mite chilly this time of year. Train should be along any minute now. Don't miss it or you'll catch cold."

Mark said, "Thanks, we won't." _I have got to remember to put some warm clothes into Aaron's Grasp._

The subway came and what looked like a hundred people got off. The thirty or so people waiting got on, including Mark and Nick. It was warm and comfortable inside for the fifteen minutes that it took to traverse the underground passage.

The subway station that was under the school was a place that none of Mark's group had ever seen or heard of. It wasn't listed on the mall maps, and certainly no one had ever mentioned it to them or given the slightest hint that something like that might even exist. And there were two sets of tracks.

The signs on the wall said that the subway to Magi City departed every twenty minutes on track A. Track B listed destinations, every hour, to the other six mountains starting at noon and ending at 5 p.m. The noon train went to The First Mountain; the 1 p.m. train went to The Second Mountain and so forth. _Why are there trains to all the other mountains? Magi can just remanifest. That's right, not everybody at the mountains are Magi._

The only exit from the platform was a set of stairs that led to the first level as well as farther up to the other levels. Mark hadn't noticed the downward leading stairs in the past because his destination had never been any lower than level one. He thought, _It's funny how the mind works_.

Nick said, "After we put the suitcases up, I need to come back down and buy some tools."

"It's too late to get Slone today. Do you think you can have it ready by next Saturday?"

"I'll have it ready, no sweat."

Nick used every minute of his spare time to work on the new device. Not a day went by that he didn't skimp on homework and studies or skip lunch in order to make more time to work on it and test it. It took four days to complete it. The scopes and meters indicated that it was working just fine, only it hadn't been field tested, yet.

It was a fine-looking weapon like it was straight out of some low budget, old science fiction movie where the evil aliens always had some sort of ray pistol that flashed a beam of light and whistled. This gun did no such thing; it was silent and had nothing to indicate that it was firing at all, except of course the intended effects, theoretically.

Saturday came and brought with it the usual things; breakfast in The Oasis, homework, practice, lunch, more homework and practice, and later, a chance to even the score. The group, especially Nick, was ready.

Chenoa and Jamal had watched Slone's group from the fifth floor balcony last week while Mark and Nick were being taken away by Mr. Thorpe. Slone's group had practiced until it was just starting to get dark. They expected them to do the same thing today. They planned to wait until Slone's group was hot, tired and looking forward to returning to the school. Oh, they'd be returning all right, but not very much looking forward to it.

Slone and his crew were right where they usually were, practicing single and team combat. He had twenty-one followers now. Mark, Nick, Jamal and Chenoa sat in the bleachers and watched, waiting for the indication that they were ready to head in.

Shadows were growing long and a huge flock of starlings, a hundred yards wide and about a mile long, began passing overhead in their nightly journey from the farm fields to their nesting homes in the crags and crevasses in the waste lands on the other side of the school. Slone's group sat on the ground, relaxing after a long, hard work out. Now was the time.

Nick aimed the weapon. A lone figure appeared on the field next to Slone. Nick began squeezing the trigger, slowly; he wanted to savor every moment of this event.

Mark pulled out his binoculars to see who the new figure was. "It's Mr. Thorpe."

Jamal reached out and pushed Nick's arm up. "That's Mr. Thorpe down there."

Nicks finger pressure brought the trigger to the critical point when Jamal moved his arm. The weapon, pointed into the air, began firing, unnoticed. The starlings, tens of thousands of them, were passing through the beam, directly over Slone's crew.

"So what. He deserves it."

"Yeah, but Mrs. Shadowitz said no practical jokes on teachers."

Nick continued unknowingly firing the gun. "I don't care. It would be worth it even if I got expelled."

"You don't need to get expelled. We can wait."

Mark said, "Bull's-eye, we don't have to wait."

Chenoa said, "What do you mean, bull's-eye?"

Mark said, "Use your binoculars."

She looked through her binoculars and saw that it was raining great, gray globs on Slone's crew. She followed the rain up to its source. A cloud of starlings was passing through the beam and jettisoning their foul, fowl cargo as they did so. Mr. Thorpe wasn't getting hit; he had some kind of invisible shield around him.

Chenoa sucked in a hard breath, preparing for a belly laugh. "I don't believe it." A hysterical laugh gushed from her.

She was laughing so hard that Mark grabbed her binoculars before she dropped them.

Jamal and Nick both looked at them. "What's so funny?"

Mark pointed at the field. Jamal took out his binoculars and looked, only to burst out laughing, too.

Nick didn't realize that he was still holding the weapon, pointed and firing at the birds. He looked, realized what he was doing, released the trigger and looked at the flock of birds flying in the distance. He looked at the field and his eyes got big and his mouth dropped open. "It works!" He pulled out his binoculars for a closer look.

Starlings are an interesting bird in the fact that they are known to flock in groups of about a hundred thousand and that they don't generally do droppings until they are just about ready to roost for the night. One single starling usually leaves quite a large mess. This precipitated event had been no exception, times about fifty thousand.

Slone's crew had been running in circles looking, hoping for something to dive under, while the enormous globs deluged them from high above. Every one of them was covered from head to foot. Occasionally a couple of them would run into each other, rebounding, falling into the slippery mess. Mr. Thorpe had already remanifested out of the area.

When the group's laughter started to fade, they realized that someone else was there, laughing with them. Tim was seated higher up on the bleachers with his spotting scope out, watching the spectacle.

Mark said, "Hi, Tim."

"Hi, Mark. You know, all the doors are not locked."

Locks had been installed on all entrance doors after the incident of the thralls' invading the museum, fifteen years ago. The locks activated a security alarm system on the door that they served. This was supposed to give just a little more time for able-bodied Magi to respond, which in most cases would mean all the difference in the world. The doors were routinely locked during flags matches and other events that normally degraded security and at night after regular classes and events. All teachers had keys, but keys weren't needed from the inside. Six doors in all would have to be locked, leaving only the front entrance open.

"If the back and side doors were locked, then they would have to use the front entrance and go through some of the mall to get to a bathroom." Mark put his binoculars into Aaron's Grasp. "It would be a shame to let them slip into a backdoor, unseen. Come on, let's go. Thanks Tim."

"I did not do anything. No need to thank me."

Nick said, "The closest stairs to the front entrance is through The Oasis and the closest bathroom is in the entrance hall by the theater, way through the mall."

The group scrambled down the stairs and split up, heading for different doors. They managed to lock the doors long before Slone's crew returned. Evidently, Tim had told someone, sparking a wildfire rumor that spread through the mountain in no time flat. Students, counselors, instructors, teachers and regular folk were crowding the front of the mall, waiting for the parade, when Mark, Chenoa, Jamal and Nick returned there.

Slone and his crew entered a short while later, marching through the crowd, quick time, eyes front, turning uproarious laughter into retching and gagging with their fetid fumes. The desert air outside had dried their sticky coating to thin cakes that had mostly cracked and fallen off. It did nothing for the reeking, putrescent funk that had permeated everything about them, and would remain with them for days to come.

Jamal leaned into Mark. "You know Slone isn't going to let this go unanswered."

Mark said, "Yeah, I know."

Mrs. Shadowitz's voice came from behind the group. "Mr. Young, Mr. Terfa, Mr. Poparov, Miss Day, I might have guessed that you were behind this, if Tim hadn't seen it and reported to us."

Mark and the group turned to face her.

Mark said, "It was really an accident."

"Oh, yes, I know. Tim told us the whole story. He burst into my office just as Mr. Thorpe was relating how he believed that Benrah was developing a new style of attack, using birds. Mr. Thorpe cast Daniel's Shield over himself and immediately remanifested to relate his speculations. It fails me as to why he didn't cast the shield over the group, which he could have easily done, and mitigate this entire disgusting, smelly affair."

"Now, as for the _accident_... you will receive no points for the flying fecal farce, but as it were, corpus delicti, ex post facto, the body of the crime, so to speak, after the fact, merits consideration. You locked the doors thus reviving the original intent of the failed joke and succeeded in doing so. You each receive the maximum of ten points. That totals to two hundred, twenty points for each of you and eight hundred, eighty points for Emerald Tribe. The others will lose forty points each and the tribe totals will be calculated later."

Mrs. Shadowitz turned from the group to face some counselors. "Counselors, see to your charges. See to it that they get some lemon juice, orange oil and some kind of fragrance to mask that awful smell, or we'll all be living with it for a month."

Mrs. Shadowitz turned back to face Nick. "Mr. Poparov, to your credit you will be awarded a hundred extra points in your science class for that little invention. I am certain that you will get at least a paragraph about your invention and this incident in the next edition of "History of Scientific Thought" and I am certain that engineering is going to want you to consult on adding that weapon to our non-lethal armory."

### Chapter 17

# Hole in the Wall

Hope transcends reason.

The Seventh Mountain Museum of Artifacts was on the first sub-level of the school. The curator was a tall, thin man with thick black hair. He was a Magi of the Agate Tribe. He wore the usual black and silver robes of the school staff. Mark had come to know that a Magi's tribe was indicated by the small stone on the right side of the signet ring and rank was indicated by the number of bands on the ring itself. This Magi had five bands, the same as Mr. Diefenderfer and Mrs. Shadowitz. That fact told Mark that the curator was someone high up in the school staff.

Mr. Diefenderfer used this weekend, every year, to introduce students to the study of archeology, which included artifacts, knowledge, and skills that had been lost or forgotten in ages past. Part of a Magi's duty was to study the past, through artifacts, and regain things lost. This lesson in the museum was designed to introduce students to that undertaking.

The museum itself was a vast, well-lit, underground cavern. There were glass-covered display boxes everywhere. Each display box housed some sort of artifact that had been recovered from some ancient site and was here now for study.

Mr. Diefenderfer and the curator entered the museum and all eyes turned to them.

"This is... Quintus McGraw... the Keeper of Artifacts... and... curator of this museum. You will browse this museum... and select... an artifact... that interests you. When you have made your selection... let Mr. McGraw know... he will turn the artifact... over to you... for study. You must... keep the artifact safe. You will have... one month... to complete your study. You are required... to log in your notebook... the methods... and means... that you take... in every individual step... in the process... and progress... of your study. Your notebooks will be graded... not only on your conclusion... but... the means... and methods... of your progress. By all means... be careful down here. The artifacts... cannot be replaced. Also... the labyrinth opens... once a day... on that wall... at an unpredictable time. No person... not even one... has ever returned... from it."

Mark looked at the wall that Mr. Diefenderfer had indicated. For a space of about twenty feet along the wall, there weren't any glass cases. A velvet rope held by two stands was all that guarded the wall. He walked over and looked at the wall. It didn't look any different from any other wall in the school.

Mark thought that it might be possible to study the staff for his assignment. He grabbed his staff and walked up to Mr. Diefenderfer.

Mr. Diefenderfer spoke without Mark having asked the question. "For extra credit... you may study your staff... For this assignment... you must choose... from the artifacts here." He raised his arm and swept it in an arc indicating the things in the museum.

Mark replaced the staff into Aaron's Grasp. He walked from case to case looking at the artifacts. Nothing interested him until he saw a small stone tablet that he could read. It read simply, " _Walk through a door before it closes._ "

Mark found Mr. McGraw and brought him to the small stone tablet.

"Ah, yes, a most curious stone indeed. The language is pre-Sanskrit, even pre-Cuneiform. No one has ever figured out what it is. It should present a formidable challenge. Are you sure you want to try this one?"

"I think so. I mean, I can read it."

Mr. McGraw bent over and looked at Mark. He raised his eyebrows, and his mouth dropped open. "Praise the One God! Are you telling me that you have the Eyes of Abednego?"

"I don't know what that is. All I know is that I can read it."

Mr. McGraw turned and started looking around the museum. He raised his arm and waved it in the air. "AlHufus! AlHufus! Did you hear that? The Eyes of Abednego. AlHufus! Where are you?"

Mr. Diefenderfer walked up behind Mr. McGraw. "I'm right here... Quintus... Did I hear you... correctly?"

Mr. McGraw said, "Yes, yes! This boy," his finger pointed at Mark and vibrated as if it might have been a machine pistol. "This boy can read this stone. He has the Eyes of Abednego."

A crowd of students was forming around the group. Mr. Diefenderfer leaned down to Mark and looked at him. "Yes... I see... Is it so? Mark... has anything like this... ever happened before?"

"Yes sir, once before. I could read what my great, great, great, great grandfather had written in his Bible. He wrote it in German. I don't know how to read German."

"Actually... that was different. That was left... exclusively for you. Do you recall... any other time... that you could read something... in a foreign language?"

"No sir."

"This is most curious. Quintus... give me the information page... for this stone."

Mr. McGraw started walking toward the office while muttering to himself. "Yes, yes... the information on the stone. It can't be the Eyes of Abednego. He would be able to read everything if it were. It must be a trap... yes, yes, a trap... it has to be a trap."

Mr. Diefenderfer returned his attention to Mark. "Mark... if you do not... which I believe... to be the case... have the ability... of the Eyes of Abednego... then... that means... that this stone... was set for you. That possibility... raises a lot of... disconcerting questions. Choose another artifact... for your assignment."

Mr. Diefenderfer raised the glass lid, took the stone and walked off the way that Mr. McGraw had gone.

Nick leaned toward Mark and whispered. "You never said anything about anything like that before."

"I forgot about it. So many weird things have happened since then."

"Okay, but I want to hear the story when we go to lunch."

"Okay."

Mark was examining the cases next to the velvet rope when he noticed that the wall had vanished. There hadn't been any sound or any other indication that it had opened up. The wall section was simply just gone. Mark walked toward the opening and said, "Hey! Check it out. The wall has disappeared."

A crowd started forming behind Mark. It seemed that everyone wanted to see the door that swallowed people forever. He heard someone say, "Quit pushing." He turned to look at the people behind him. He saw Ralph Lawrence lurch out of the crowd, trying to regain his balance. Mark didn't have time to get out of the way. Ralph hurdled headlong into him and knocked Mark toward the open doorway. Mark was knocked backwards toward the opening. The velvet rope was the only thing that he could grab.

He crossed the plane of the opening and sensed that gravity had changed direction. He fell a long way to what had just moments before been the far wall in the labyrinth. Falling, even in normal circumstances, produces an adrenalin rush, which quickens the heart, enhances perception and muscle response, to the point of making one superhuman for a short time. Mark had experienced this rush before; only this time the enemy was gravity, a warrior that could be vanquished by no one.

Mark looked this way and that, hoping for anything to grab onto before he came to the inevitable conclusion of this journey. There was nothing there save the two rope stands and a velvet rope, all caught in gravity's grasp, just as helpless as he was.

He realized that he was falling headfirst and tried to right himself in order to impact on his feet instead of his head. There wasn't enough time and his arms protected his head as much as possible.

He heard the rope stands clang on the floor on either side of him. That far wall was now the floor. He had hit that floor hard. His scream vanished into the darkness. The excruciating pain in both of his arms told him that they were broken. His head and chest were in agonizing pain, too. He tried to move and couldn't, except for his eyes and all there was to see was the light from the door. He knew that he had to stay awake, but the fight was useless. He was defeated; numbing cold settled over him, and he faded into blackness.

Time passed. Mark didn't know how long he had been out. He awoke in pitch-blackness. A deep penetrating voice spoke to his mind. Nausea squeezed, forcing the contents of his stomach up to the back of his throat.

"Hello, Mark. Welcome home." This was followed by a deep reverberating laugh. "Do you know who I am?"

Mark remembered the voice from a dream that had told him that he was going to die. It was the same voice. "Are you Benrah?"

The deep, disembodied voice continued. "Very good, Mark. Well, if you know who I am, then maybe you can guess what this place is."

"Where are you?" The voice sounded like it was coming from nowhere in particular, but it was close, too close.

"It doesn't matter where I am. What matters is do you know where you are?"

"I know it's cold and dark and no one is supposed to have ever gotten out of here." Mark tried to sit up and couldn't, it hurt too much, but he still wanted to face his jailer.

"Mark, you can do better than that. Let me give you a hint. Each of the other six mountains is built over one, very much like this one."

Mark rolled over, grimacing at the pain and tried again to sit up. His arms were useless. "Oh, what does it matter what you call it. If no one can get out, then it's just a prison, 'til I die."

"Humans can't die in here."

_Humans can't die in here. That doesn't make any sense._ "Well then, I guess that makes this a living nightmare."

"Close... it's the entrance to the door to Sheol or Hades or Erebus or the Abyss or the Underworld or whatever you want to call it. And it is my pleasure to inform you that you will experience every pain ever known to man in here, some of which you are experiencing now. Enjoy, you are going to be here for a very long time."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Let's see now, there are three hundred and sixty seven souls trapped in here, right now, before this particular gate. Most have been here for hundreds of years, some even thousands. None have made it out. Do you think that you are better than they are? Do you think that you can find a way out?"

"There has to be a way out."

"Oh, there is. All you have to do is swear allegiance to me."

"You won't get the staff that easily."

An intense deep rumbling laugh filled Mark's mind. "I have no interest in that tooth pick. I have what I want of you. You are here." The laughter continued. After a few moments, it faded and finally left. Mark realized that the voice had been in his mind and thought that it might have been a hallucination.

He felt a deep sense of foreboding and hopelessness settling over him. He tried to fight those feelings, but the pains in his arms, chest and head were unrelenting. Something in him kept trying to make him feel like he should just give up. He didn't want to give up, he knew he couldn't give up, he had to fight it.

* * *

As soon as Mark fell through the opening, Jamal, Nick and Chenoa ran up to look.

"Where is he? I don't see him." Jamal was straining to see into the void.

Chenoa grabbed Ralph by the collar. "What have you done? You are one sick puppy."

"I didn't do anything. Somebody pushed me." Ralph put his arm up to block Chenoa from hitting him.

"Who pushed you?"

"I don't know."

Slone Voif stepped out of the crowd. "I pushed him. I was just horsing around."

"You stupid idiot! Do you realize what you have done?"

"Yes... but what's done is done." Slone had a slight smirk and stood with his arms folded across his chest.

"I'm going to get Mr. Diefenderfer."

"You do that." Slone turned and walked back into the crowd of students.

Chenoa ran into Mr. McGraw's office.

Mr. Diefenderfer was speaking. "That means... if it was found... right after the battle... in this very museum... that Benrah... left it for a reason. We must... get everyone... out of here... as soon as possible."

"Sir, it's too late. Mark has been knocked into the labyrinth!"

"Surely you jest, young lady." Mr. McGraw turned to face her.

"No sir. It's true."

"We must notify... the Council of Elders... at once. There is no hope... for any rescue... until tomorrow... when the doorway reopens."

* * *

In the labyrinth, Mark tried to sit up. His arms were no help. It hurt to move them, but he could move them, barely. He rolled over, fumbled into Aaron's Grasp. The penlight was there. The narrow beam didn't provide enough light to see much; he couldn't hold it well. The pain was excruciating. The beam reflected off something on the floor. It was dark and glossy. Mark examined it as best as he could. It was a wide and thick puddle of congealed blood. He realized that he must be bleeding.

He forced his arm up and felt his hair. It was matted and sticky. He looked at his hand with the light. A deep red slime covered his palm. He felt his head again. There was no indication of a wound. He checked the rest of his body as well as he could and didn't find any wounds. _I healed that fast?_

A feeble voice spoke to Mark's mind. " _There's no way out. You might as well give up now and start your crossing_." It was much different than Benrah's voice; this one was puny and whiney sounding.

Mark spoke aloud. "The Council of Elders will find a way."

"You're wrong. It's all been tried before."

"Oh yeah! You don't know."

"Okay, let me tell you what's going to happen. You're thinking that you'll wait for the door to open again. Only, you'll wait three or four weeks before that happens. Time is different in here. You'll get so hungry that you'll think about eating yourself, maybe a piece of your arm or leg or something. I've seen it before. If you manage to stick it out until the door opens, they'll toss in some food and maybe some clothes. The food won't be enough. You'll eat that in two or three days. Then you'll be right back where you were. The only way to get something else to eat is to travel through the other rooms. When you get thirsty enough, you might think that you can always drink your own urine. Only, you won't have any. Your body can't make any because you haven't drunk anything. Your body needs what little fluid you have left now to replace the blood you lost. When you get hungry enough, you'll go into the next room, believe me, you'll go. You can bypass all that pain and go now."

"Why should I believe you? Go away; you're just a hallucination or something."

_"I'm no hallucination, but whether or not to believe me, that's your choice. My job is to get you going. The sooner you complete your crossing, the sooner I can get back to what I was doing. You're going to go, eventually_."

* * *

Back in the museum, Mr. Diefenderfer approached the group near the wall. The door was closed now.

Jamal looked at him and said, "I can hear him, sort of. At least I think it's him. Everything is speeded up. He's hurt. His arms are broken and he has blood in his hair. He's wondering if he can hold out until the door opens again. He thinks it will be almost a month before it does."

Mr. Diefenderfer bowed his head. After a moment he said, "Yes... I believe it is him... I would estimate... that time is passing... twenty... or twenty-five... times faster... in there... If that is true... one hour... out here... is equivalent to... one day... in there... approximately."

Nick said, "That means that it could be a month, for him, before the door opens again."

"We must... act quickly. You three... stand vigil here... I will... set planning... in motion." He turned to look at the rest of the class. "Everyone else... leave the museum... at once... We must... make room... for the rescue team."

* * *

Several hours had passed for Mark in the labyrinth. He started to look around in the first cavern. He was beginning to get more and more use of his arms back. They didn't hurt as much as they did when he had come to. The walls were smooth and cold, just like the floor. He couldn't see the ceiling with the diminutive beam from the penlight. He walked along the walls and estimated that this first room was about the size of a football field. He felt cold and the first urges of hunger were starting to take hold.

He remembered what Tim had told him, during the Festival of Tents, about keeping some munchies around. "You never know who might show up hungry, including me." He had taken that advice to heart. He remembered the candies and jerky that he had in his pockets. _I wish I had remembered to put some warm clothes into Aaron's Grasp._ He reasoned, that food was enough to keep him from wanting to eat himself while he waited for the door to open again. It certainly wasn't enough to keep him from being hungry.

He didn't have any books with him or anything else to pass the time. He decided to lie down and try to go to sleep.

_"You can't sleep in here."_ The impish voice was back. _"Sleep just doesn't happen. My master wants everybody to be fully aware of what's happening to them when it happens. There's no escape from here, not even in sleep or insanity or old age. No one gets any older in here, no one sleeps, and no one dies."_

"Yeah, right." Mark lay back on the floor. He tried for more than an hour to fall asleep, but that wonderful place eluded him. He decided to sit up and meditate, a practice taught in communications class.

* * *

In the museum, preparations for a rescue were being mounted. Mr. Diefenderfer returned with the Council of Elders, a few instructors, and a few counselors. Tim and Gerod were among them, with Tim leading The General by his reins.

Mark could transmit his thoughts and feelings in a coherent manner to people, but he didn't receive coherent thoughts from people. Animals could read his thoughts and feelings, and he could read theirs. From most animals he only received thoughts of senses, emotion or intent. There had been two notable exceptions to this. First, the lioness had transmitted articulate thought, mental pictures and senses; second, The General had transmitted mental pictures and senses, specifically what he could see, taste and smell. The lioness was too dangerous to try and use to communicate with Mark. The General was the next best choice for that purpose. Anyone could read Mark's thoughts, if they were close enough and he wasn't trying to prevent it. Mark could see what The General was seeing if he was close enough.

"I don't know... if this... will work... We are going... to try... to communicate... with Mark... through... The General... We need... to get... The General... to think about Mark... Would one of you three... mind mounting...?"

Before Mr. Diefenderfer could finish, Chenoa was on The General's bare back. He reared and she slid off.

Gerod and Mrs. Shadowitz sat up a large paper tablet on an easel. Mrs. Shadowitz wrote on the paper:

We are here.

We can hear your thoughts.

We understand the time difference.

Hang on.

We have plenty of food for you.

Do you have broken arms?

Mark watched the events unfold in very slow motion. It wasn't as slow as the thralls had been moving on Christmas Day, but it was slow, none-the-less. He knew that he was seeing through The General's eyes. From the time that he had first started seeing the images until he could read the message in full, nearly half an hour had passed.

Mark thought about how cold he was and how weak his flashlight was. He brought his thoughts and feelings to the front of his mind so that anyone could sense them. He worked his arms to let them know that he was all right now. A half an hour later he could see the new message on the tablet through The General's eye:

Warm clothes,

Better light.

You are all right.

Anything else?

Mark realized that Divine intervention might be his only hope. He got to his knees and started praying. A short time later, he saw in his mind's eye, that everyone that The General could see was praying, too.

At least three weeks had passed for Mark. He ate what little food he had, sparingly. There was nothing that he could do but sit and wait. He saw through The Generals eyes how the glass cases in the museum had been moved. A very long ladder was lying on the floor. It was obvious that they were planning to shove the ladder in the door as soon as it opened.

The voice that had started out small and feeble in Mark's mind had grown stronger over the last three weeks. It was now a very forceful voice that Mark couldn't shut out.

"That's been tried many times in the past. Won't work. You can climb up, but you can't get out. Although, I must say, you are the first one that has been able to communicate outside. It's not going to do you any good, though."

"You don't know what you're talking about. They understand the time difference and they're sending in plenty of food and clothes. You said that wouldn't happen."

_"Yeah, well, no one has been able to communicate outside before, either. Just because you got this far, doesn't mean you're going to get out_."

"We'll see."

There was a new message on the tablet.

Stand clear when the door opens.

We're sending in clothes and food first.

Then we'll put the ladder in.

The ladder is self-supporting,

Stay clear until the legs lock in place.

* * *

About three days later the door opened. Half a dozen duffel bags fell from the opening. Sometime later, the ladder dropped down and locked into place.

Mark climbed. At the top, he pushed against the opening. It was like pushing on a stone wall. He couldn't get out. He could see the people outside moving very slowly. He tried again and again to find some weak point in the opening. Nothing budged. The door finally closed.

Back on the floor, Mark looked through the duffel bags. There was more than enough food to last for thirty days. He savored every bite of a beef-stew meal pack and downed two bottles of lemonade. He found fresh clothes to put on. The warm socks and boots were a welcome relief from the sandals that he had been wearing. He tucked the jeans pant-legs into the boots before tying them up. That was something that he had been taught to do by his parents for when it was cold. He tucked the sweatshirt in before cinching his belt. He stuffed the pockets of the cloak full of meal packs and he put some into Aaron's Grasp. He was taking Tim's advice again, just in case.

### Chapter 18

# So that is what it is

It is often unexpected when destiny reveals itself.

Everyone who was close to Mark, and knew his thoughts, was taking turns at reading what he was sending. Nick was standing watch now. "He's got warm clothes on now and he has eaten. He's wondering what to try next."

Mrs. Shadowitz went to the easel and wrote:

We're working on what to try next.

Most of the council is reading about

past attempts at getting people out.

We are not going to give up.

By the time that the new message was finished, Mark had gotten the large lantern out of a duffel bag and was taking a closer look at the room. He found an area, just out from the wall, where a lot of stuff had been haphazardly strewn. There were old weapons, some tattered leather clothing, a few stones with pictographs and a hodgepodge of other things. He hadn't found them before; because he was too close to the wall and his penlight didn't give much light. He examined the artifacts at length to allow whoever was reading his thoughts to see what he saw.

A couple of hours later, on another area of the wall, he found some writing that looked like what he had seen on the stone in the museum. It read, " _Walk through a door before it closes_." He stared at it for a long time so that the others could pick up on it.

He was getting hungry again. He turned around to rest his back on the wall and slide down to sit on the floor. As soon as his back touched the wall, the door opened. Mark tumbled backwards into the next room. He landed on his back. The floor was not hard. It was squishy and crunched under his weight. He turned sideways to look at the floor. A palm-sized maroon and black bug screeched in his face. The floor was alive.

The smell of decay made him want to puke. He focused farther away and saw masses of brown house roaches scurrying toward him. They were climbing over larger roaches that were red with brown stripes. He put his hand underneath himself to get up. He put his weight on his arm and his hand sunk almost a foot, crushing the roaches into a mass of green and brown slime. He rolled over and tried to get to his knees. He sunk half way up to his thighs.

He finally did manage to stand up, and he saw millions of cockroaches rushing toward him. The noise was horrendous. Their primitive thoughts were invading his mind. He felt an overpowering urge to eat. He had to act fast. He put the jacket hood up. He tied it tight under his chin as the roaches swarmed over him. Some had managed to get inside the hood before he had tied it closed. He swatted, with one hand, around this neck and hood to kill the ones that had gotten in. He used his other hand to keep them brushed off his face. The light vibrated on the floor as myriads of roaches passed underneath.

A seeming eternity passed before he could pick up the lantern again. The glass was hot enough to keep the roaches off it. The roaches were knee deep around him. Every slippery step crunched a thousand or more bugs as he made his way around the wall, brushing or shaking the rank creatures off with every step, looking for where the next door might be. Roaches swarmed over him. Occasionally, one would manage to get into his nose. He had to wait for them to get down to his throat before he could hack them up and spit them out. He made his way around the wall, crunchy step by crunchy step. The roaches started to thin out. Thousands would stay behind to gorge on their dead.

The disembodied voice entered Mark's head again. " _You're so lucky. Almost everyone else came in here starving and without much protection. They would eat the little buggies by the hand full. They'd swallow 'em whole, only to have them crawl back up later. All the while, the little critters were swarming all over them, getting into anywhere that they could. Roaches like to crawl into holes."_

Mark suddenly felt tremendous pain in his left ear. One of the roaches had gotten into his ear and was walking on his eardrum. He grabbed his ear.

"YEOW! Oh God! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!"

He slapped his head and hopped around. He ripped the hood back and dug his finger into his ear. Nothing he did worked. He dropped to his knees and screamed again. The pain was so bad that he finally did puke. Thousands of scurrying roaches piled onto the newly laid feast.

The pain in Mark's ear was so intense that he thought that he was going to pass out. He desperately tried to keep the roaches off his head. It was a losing battle between the pain and the roaches.

* * *

In the museum, Nick still had the watch. "Oh man! He's not in the main room anymore. He's covered with roaches. They're everywhere. They're getting in his nose and mouth. Oh! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!" Nick dropped to his knees and vomited, projecting a slimy brown stream onto the floor. Those nearby gagged and retched. Nick was experiencing Mark's predicament through Mark's own thoughts and feelings.

* * *

The vile bugs were still swarming over Mark. The wall in front of him disappeared. He got back to his feet and stumbled through it into the next room. He was still covered with swarming roaches. He shook and brushed the roaches off. It didn't do any good. He brushed some off; more took their place. He still felt nauseous from the pain. He looked around and saw thousands of beady, red, feral eyes staring at him. It was rats. Ragged, ravenous and rank, they all pounced at once.

Hundreds of rats swarmed over him. He didn't know which was worse, the putrid smell of decay from the roaches, or the acrid, piercing odor of gallons of rancid rat urine mingled with the puss from festering boils that matted their fur.

Their combined squeals of delight pierced his head. He felt the roach that was in his ear climb out. The pain in his ear subsided, but the squeals of the rats weren't much better. In his mind, he felt their bitter desire to eat. To his surprise, the rats weren't attacking him. They were after the roaches. He looked back at the door from where he had come. Thousands and thousands of roaches were emerging through the door. Rats pounced and devoured them in a futile attempt to satisfy their insatiable need to eat.

It occurred to Mark that perhaps the doors in the rest of the labyrinth only opened once a month. The rats had to be starving. They were going after the quick and easy meal. He knew that he had to find the next door and get through it before it closed. He didn't want to be stranded in a room full of voracious rats for a month.

The impish voice laughed in Mark's head. " _Oh, I love rats. They'll eat anything. It don't matter if they're full or not. If it's food, they'll eat it, dead or alive. Listen to them sing. They always sing when they eat. It's so lovely to hear them sing. You're going to be a nice buffet."_

Mark searched the wall. He found the writing that said, " _Walk through a door before it closes_." It was on the far side of the cavern, away from where the rats were swarming. All he had to do now was to wait for the door to open, if it hadn't already. He turned to watch the rats. Time passed ever so slowly. They had finished their feeding frenzy. The squealing noise stopped. They turned, en masse, toward Mark.

* * *

In the museum, Tim ran to Nick. He put both hands on his shoulders to steady him while he got to his feet. "Nick, you need to get out of here and clear your mind. I will take the watch now."

"No... I want to stay." Nick was still woozy from the experience.

"Okay, just go to the rest room and clean up first."

Tim closed his eyes and tuned into Mark. "I am not getting him as strong as I was before." He took a couple of steps, carefully avoiding the steaming mess on the floor, turned and walked toward the exit.

"There he is. He is in a room full of rats. They are eating the roaches. Oh... now they have turned on him."

* * *

In the rat room, they began slowly at first. Mark started inching his way backwards toward the next door. He was desperately trying to think of what to do. He looked over his shoulder at the door. It was still closed. He suddenly remembered the meal packs in his pockets. He grabbed one, tore it open and flung it at the encroaching pack of death.

A lot of the rats stopped to devour the meal pack. Most kept coming. Mark threw several more meal packs at the tide of demise. That seemed to stem the surge, for the moment. He looked over his shoulder. The door was still closed. The rats were starting to pick up steam again. He looked over his shoulder again and fumbled for more meal packs. The wall disappeared.

* * *

"Good thinking, Mark. Done like a true Magi." Tim was talking out loud to himself. He raised his head to explain to the group that was listening. "He used meal packs to slow them down. He is in the next room now." Tim edged out of the museum exit to follow Mark. He needed to stay relatively close so he could pick up Mark's thoughts.

* * *

Thousands of rats poured through the door, behind Mark, into the next room. Mark shifted his attention, briefly, from the rats to scan for whatever peril this room held. The floor was covered with snakes.

"Snakes are so beautiful. Look at them, so many different kinds. They all have one thing in common, though. They are all fiercely protective and they don't like anything that is warm blooded. I'll lay odds, a hundred to one, that you don't make it to the next room without dying at least once. Snakebites are so nasty. Being squeezed to death is even better. What do you say; care to make a friendly little wager?"

Mark watched as snakes coiled at his feet. Many had already struck at the rats and were slowly swallowing their meal. "You don't have anything to bet with. You're just a voice."

_"I could take you through the next hundred rooms, if you win. What would you be willing to bet that you will?_ "

He carefully stepped over several of the snakes that were eating. "How many rooms are there?"

_"On this side, three hundred and thirty three_."

He took out the staff and used it to carefully slide snakes out of his path. "What would it take for you to just shut up and go away?"

_"I'm afraid that I can't do that._ "

Mark moved slowly and used the staff to clear another spot to step. "What's in the next room?"

_"I can't tell you that, either. Care to take a guess?_ "

"Ah, probably something that eats snakes and people."

* * *

Tim said, "Snakes this time. You are doing it right, Mark. Move slow and easy... slow and easy." Tim moved up the hall toward the stairs, each step calculated and careful, mirroring what Mark should do.

* * *

For Mark, it seemed like it took forever to reach the far wall. He scanned for any indication of the door and couldn't find it.

_"Gotch ya! The door ain't here._ "

Mark decided to turn left and follow the wall. Left looked like the door would be the farthest away. That would be in keeping with the philosophy of this sick place.

Mark painstakingly made his way around the wall. Several hours passed. He had come full circle before he realized that the floor was sand. He knew that he had made a complete circuit. He found footprints in the sand. Footprints so fresh that only he could have made them. He reasoned, " _If the door is not in the walls, it has to be in the floor. If it's in the floor, then there has to be a pit where the sand has gone through the door when it opened."_

He decided to go directly across the middle of the room. That seemed to give him the best chance of finding the door. An hour or so later, he found the pit. It was about four feet deep and filled with snakes. They tried to climb the steep sides but just kept sliding back down.

He cleared a space with the staff so that he could sit down. He ate while he waited for the door to open. He knew that it had not opened recently, judging by the number of snakes that were in the pit.

About a day later, labyrinth time, the door opened. The snakes disappeared down the gullet of the gaping hole. He waited. That gave enough time for the snakes to disperse before he slid down the side of the pit into the open door.

Gravity shifted direction again when he crossed the threshold. He slid to rest on his backside. Large birds were all over the place. They all looked like they were walking on stilts and had multiple bald spots freckled with oozing scabs. They were grabbing the snakes and throwing them up into the air. He had no idea what danger the birds posed, if any.

"He is in the next room now. Good... secretary birds. No danger, unless he gets too close to their nests." Tim walked halfway up the stairs for the optimal spot to read Mark.

* * *

Mark walked around the edge of the wall, looking for the next door. The stilted raptors paid him no mind. They were too interested in their squirming meals. Incessant calls marked every kill. Occasionally, two birds would grab the same snake, pull and snap the serpent in half. Other birds would feast on entrails flung into the darkness.

He approached the far wall. Weak chirps and squeals started to emanate from the wall above. He looked up. There was a ledge with nests, high up, along the wall. The commotion of the birds behind him started to ebb. They were all standing stark still. Their attention was focused on Mark. The snakes were slithering off into the gloom.

He turned to look at the far wall. He could see the sign that showed where the door was. It wasn't open. He turned back toward the birds and crouched down. A couple of the birds started, slowly, to step toward him. Others followed their lead. Still more followed those. Suddenly, the entire flock had taken to wing. Mark turned, staff and lantern in hand, and made a mad dash for the door. He at least wanted the wall at his back while he fought off the birds.

He braced himself, mentally, for the impact with the wall. He planned to turn and start swinging as hard and as fast as he could, when he rebounded from the wall. To his surprise, the wall didn't stop him. He passed straight through it and stumbled to a stop.

* * *

Tim said, "Uh-oh! He's too close to their nests. Get out of there, Mark!" Tim was well up the stairs now. "You are running the wrong way. What... He went right through the wall."

* * *

Lions. They were mangy, banded with scratches and gaunt to the point of being living skeletons and they were utterly surprised by his entrance. He could feel that in his mind. They were all hungry, so very hungry. Not one, but hundreds of images filled his mind. Each and every image showed him being torn apart and eaten in a fury of claws and teeth. It was very clear how good his raggedly butchered meat would smell to them.

He turned and looked at the wall. It was solid stone. The lions were running toward him. He had no place to go. In desperation, he ran back to the wall. He touched it, and his hand with the staff passed back through. Hundreds of the large birds came through the opening. He felt the astonishment of the lions at this. They turned their attention from him to the more abundant quarry.

No more birds came through the opening. He waited a couple of moments longer before stepping back through. He walked back to the area of the previous door, unchallenged. Sliding the staff along the wall, he found the opening. Several snakes plopped to the ground. He backed up and waited for them to clear.

Running full out, he passed through the wall into the next chamber. His momentum carried him up and he thudded back down onto the stone door. He didn't pass back through. Turning over to regain his feet, the staff touched the door. The door opened and he fell back through.

Startled by events, he paused to think about it. He decided that if he dove through the door, he would land on his feet. He tried it, and it worked.

After painstakingly making his way back to the other door, through the snakes, he laid the staff against the wall. The wall section vanished. Thousands of rats poured through the opening. The torrent became a trickle. He stepped into the rat room. Relatively few rats scurried here and there.

After reaching the next door, he cinched up his hood to cover everything except his eyes. He crunched his way through the crunchy, slimy, crawling mass. He was covered with roaches, from head to foot, when he emerged into the first chamber. A meal pack enticed them to remain on the floor and off him.

He was halfway up the ladder when he remembered the artifacts lying on the floor. He went back down to collect some of them. He slung the sword over his shoulder and put a couple of the stones with pictographs in his pockets.

### Chapter 19

# The Rescue

Sleep, that wonderful place where dreams are real and reality but a dream.

Mark climbed up and out to find that helping hands were waiting for him. The voice was gone from his head. He lay down on the cold museum floor and sleep overtook him, mind, body and soul. He hadn't slept in who knows how long. It felt good to finally be able to sleep.

Days passed, and Mark didn't wake up. Twice a day, while he was asleep, his friends Jamal, Chenoa and Nick would come to visit his bedside. On occasion, LeOmi Jones, Cap'n Ben and, of all things, Slone Voif came to visit, too.

They always asked the same questions, "How's he doing?" and "How long will he sleep?" They always got the same obvious answers from either the guard at his bedside or the nurse that tended him. "He's doing as well as can be expected." and "We don't know how long he will sleep."

Mark awoke lying in a hospital bed with curtains isolating his bed from the rest of the ward. He sat up, listened, and couldn't hear anything. That's strange. I should be able to hear something. He got up and pulled the curtain back. It was then that he knew that this was a dream.

He was overlooking farmland from high above. He was over the land in Virginia. It had to be, the Newsome Farm was off to the right. His house was directly below. The scent of pine and sawdust drifted on the breeze.

Time moved in fast forward. The trees below were cleared away, revealing a large pile of stones that had been hidden in the undergrowth. They were unusually white stones and somehow drew his attention.

The stones flew up, one at first, then another, and another, until a large mass of stones was flying from the ground toward him. Individually, the stones passed and disappeared behind him.

Suddenly he was moving down toward where the stones had been, and then down into an underground tunnel. It smelled like wet dirt. He passed through the tunnel, turning left then right, heading ever deeper down and then back up a little. It was like being on some vast underground roller coaster.

Finally, the ride stopped. He looked around. The tunnel curved off and down to the left, continuing on. Soil and stones fell from the right side of the wall revealing large chunks of gold colored rocks. He started to touch one of the golden rocks and the dream ended.

He opened his eyes and found that he was still in the hospital bed. The dream had been so real, which was becoming so commonplace now that he was having trouble telling the difference. Someone pulled the curtain back.

"Well, hello there." The woman looked young. She wore a lightweight white hooded cloak over her white tunic. She pulled back her hood and smiled the kind of smile that says glad to see you. Her very blue eyes were gleaming.

"Mrs. Shadowitz wants to be notified the moment that you're awake. But first, is there anything that I can get for you?"

"My staff! Where's my staff?"

"I don't know. It was here yesterday. Mrs. Shadowitz must have taken it for safekeeping."

If Mrs. Shadowitz had the staff, that was okay. He trusted her and she certainly knew how important the staff was.

Mark sat up and noticed that he was wearing some type of white robe. He also noticed that he was hungry, very hungry.

"Ma'am, I'm hungry. Can I have something to eat?"

"Of course, you can. What would you like?"

"Breakfast. Anything really."

"What state are you from?"

"North Carolina."

"Okay. I'll send someone to get a proper North Carolina breakfast."

Mark smiled a sleepy smile and nodded. The woman turned and put her hood back up before walking off.

Mark, still feeling groggy, dozed until Mrs. Shadowitz pulled back the curtain. She was accompanied by Mark's family.

"Oh, hon, you're all right. I was so worried." Shirley rushed to the bedside and hugged her son.

"Hi, Mom. I'm all right."

Steve said, "That was some ordeal that you've been through. Mrs. Shadowitz filled us in. The whole school is talking about it."

"Yes sir. It was. I don't want to do that again, anytime soon. How long have I been asleep?"

"A week."

Mrs. Shadowitz walked up to the bed. She wasn't holding the staff. Mark thought, Maybe she has it in Aaron's Grasp.

"Hello, there. I'm glad to see that you're finally awake."

"Yes, ma'am. Me too."

"I've sent a runner to tell your friends that you're awake. I'm sure that they'll be up, right after class."

"Thank you. Do you have my staff?"

"You're welcome, and no, I don't have your staff. It's supposed to be right here with you. It was here yesterday. That's why the guard has been posted here since you came in."

Mrs. Shadowitz turned to the guard. He was a big fellow, wearing a white tunic and cloak. The hood obscured his face.

"Who's been here to see Mark since I was here last?"

The guard looked at his clipboard. "Jamal Terfa, Chenoa Day, Nikola Poparov, Slone Voif, LeOmi Jones and Cap'n Ben."

"Bring them here, immediately!"

"Yes, ma'am." The guard turned and went out the door.

"Slone Voif, I should have known. He's trying to get me back for that last joke we played on him."

Mrs. Shadowitz turned back to Mark. "We'll see."

Tim, Gerod and Shana walked into the ward, carrying trays of food. They sat them on a table that was against the wall, pulled the table out, and adjusted the chairs.

Tim said, "A proper North Carolina breakfast, there is enough for everyone."

The entire group sat and ate, waiting for the guard to return. When he did, he didn't have good news.

"Here're the students that you sent for, except for Cap'n Ben. I can't find him, anywhere. I've sent more runners to look for him."

"Very well, see to it that I see him, immediately, when he is found."

Mrs. Shadowitz stood and faced each student in turn. She looked them up and down.

"None of these have it with them."

She faced each student again, in turn.

"Slone, do you know where the staff is?"

Slone tilted his head and looked at Mark. His eyebrows narrowed slightly and a smile came across his lips and quickly faded. "No, ma'am. I don't."

She asked the same question of Nick, Jamal, Chenoa, and LeOmi and got the same answer.

Mrs. Shadowitz said, "I believe that they are telling the truth."

Mark said, "That has to mean that Cap'n Ben has the staff and has gone into the labyrinth."

"That could be true, but it's not likely. Anyone would have had a very difficult time getting that staff past the guards. They all have spirit sight, the ability to see with the mind's eye. Mr. Diefenderfer uses it all the time, since he lost his eyes. The guards would have been able to see anything in Aaron's Grasp."

"What if they weren't looking, like something distracted them?"

"That's possible, but very difficult... unless it was right at watch change." Mrs. Shadowitz looked at the guard. "Let me see your clipboard."

The guard handed her the clipboard.

"There it is. Cap'n Ben checked in by one guard and checked out by another." She looked at the students. "You can go back to class now."

Chenoa said, "Mr. Diefenderfer dismissed class early when we left. Is it all right if we stay?"

Slone said, "I've got things to do. Glad you're okay." He turned and left.

"Yes, of course, you can stay."

Mrs. Shadowitz looked at the guard. "Check the armory for me and see if any armor is missing."

The new style of Magi armor was made from designer molecules in an unstable matrix. This formed a fast acting destabilization exponentially related to the amount of energy applied. In simple terms that means that it was a lightweight material like cloth, that got harder and tougher based on the amount of force applied to it.

The armor had the added feature that it was self-cooling or self-warming depending on how it was worn. The large molecules in the fabric were constantly changing orientation, spinning in place, and acting as molecular fans. The critical temperatures were fifty degrees below zero on the cold side and two hundred degrees above zero on the hot side. Below and above those temperatures, the armor was useless.

"Yes, ma'am." The guard turned and walked out.

She turned back to Mark. "I don't think that it is likely that he entered the labyrinth without armor. If there's armor missing, then it's likely that he went in."

Shirley said, "Honey, you're not thinking of going back in there, are you?"

"If I have to, Mom. What if I'm the only one the staff works for?"

Mrs. Shadowitz said, "That is possible. The staff has been around for a long time, and no one has ever escaped from any of the labyrinths."

"What if he isn't in there? It's too dangerous; I won't allow it."

"Mrs. Young, I afraid that it's not your decision. It's Mark's."

"What do you mean it's not my decision, I'm his mother?"

"Sweetheart, calm down. I'm sure that every precaution that can be taken will be taken. If Mark is the only one who can rescue these people, then he has a duty to do just that."

Shirley stood. "Calm down! I will not calm down! You're talking about letting him walk right back into the very gates to hell and you want me to calm down!"

"Mrs. Young, there are other people on this ward. Please keep your voice down. As for Mark, only he can make that decision, and we will support him in either one."

"Just how much does he have to sacrifice? He's already missed his birthday in there! And now you want him to sacrifice his childhood! He's only thirteen years old and you expect him to act like an adult! What if Cap'n Ben isn't in there? What if the staff is lost forever?"

Mark reached out and grabbed his mother's hand. "Mom, I can't just let those people stay in there when I can get them out."

Shirley looked at Mark and dropped to her knees. Tears were streaming down her face. "Honey, Benrah wants you dead; or worse yet, trapped in that awful place, forever. You can't go back in there, you just can't."

Mark took his mother's hands. "I want you to answer me honestly. On second thought, you don't have to answer me at all, because I already know the answer. What would you do in my place?"

Shirley started to speak but paused. She dropped her chin to her chest and shook her head.

The guard returned. "Cap'n Ben checked out a full set of body armor and a bee-keeping suit, four days ago."

Mrs. Shadowitz looked at Tim. "Just to be sure, mount a full-scale search for him. Notify everyone to presuppose that he doesn't want to be found."

Tim said, "Yes, ma'am." He got up and left.

"Gerod, I want you to go and get The General."

Gerod got up and left.

"The rest of you can follow me down to the museum, if you like."

Shana said, "I've got to get back to The Oasis; my shift is about to start. I'll pass the word about what's happened, if that's okay?"

Mrs. Shadowitz nodded and Shana left.

Steve looked at Mrs. Shadowitz. "If he's going back in there, I had better give him his birthday present now."

Mrs. Shadowitz nodded and reached into Aaron's Grasp. She removed a katana and handed it to Steve.

Steve handed the sword to Mark. "Happy birthday, son. It's the real deal."

Mark pulled the blade from its sheath. The cutting edge looked as sharp as a straight razor. He knew not to touch it.

"Ms. Vanmie says that it is a three body sword, one of the very best Magi have ever made. You take good care of it, and it'll take good care of you."

Traditionally, the Japanese rated katana swords according to how many heads could be lopped off or how many bodies could be completely severed with a single blow. Many prisoners were executed in this cause. Magi-made katana swords were rated with the same terminology but their effective cutting efficiency was arrived at by entirely scientific measurements.

* * *

Down in the museum, the vigil started once again. Mr. McGraw reported that the door had already opened and closed for today. Since Mark didn't have the staff, they had to wait for the door to open again. There was no telling when that would happen.

Hours passed into the night and morning came ever so slowly. Tim kept everyone fed, making many trips to The Oasis and returning with orders filled to perfection. They all slept in shifts, fitful and anxious about the upcoming foray into the labyrinth. What if Cap'n Ben wasn't in there? Mark would be trapped until the staff could be found and then some. Mark was prepared, though. There was a duffel bag filled with meal packs, enough for two people for well over a month. Warm clothing was waiting to be tossed in after him and he had a large lantern. The easel and The General were there. All of the bases were covered.

It was well after 9 a.m. when the door opened. Tim threw the duffel bag into the opening.

Mark stepped in and onto the ladder. He looked around with the light and didn't see anything.

"Cap'n Ben! Are you in here?"

The voice entered his head. "Get out of here. You have no place in here. I won't let you save him; he's mine. You can't do this, it's not allowed. My master will be furious. I won't let you. I can control you, look!"

Mark felt a very strong urge to throw the lantern down, almost too strong to resist. He did resist though, by sheer will alone. It took all of his mind to do this, which prevented him from reaching into his pocket for a bug bomb.

Gerod saw to it that Mark had an ample supply of what he called "bug bombs." It was an adaptation of an ancient method of making an evil essence run for the hills. It had the benefit that it worked almost instantaneously and was effective for several hours.

Gerod said that he had found the formula, for burning a special kind of fish's heart and liver together, in an ancient manuscript. He designed the bomb by dehydrating the heart and liver, adding a water capsule to re-hydrate the organs and a sodium capsule to make the concoction burn. It worked by rupturing the water capsule. He claimed that it even worked on Benrah.

Gerod said, "The only drawback is that they always come back mad as a hornet's nest."

Mark became fatigued from the struggle, but he didn't give up. It seemed like forever before that evil thing relented.

"You win this time, but next time you won't be prepared for it. I'll get you! You won't get out of here. You'll rip his heart out before I'm through with you and then you'll eat it and then I'll make him do the same thing to you."

Mark dropped a bug bomb, but he was still on the ladder and the vapors would take a while to reach that high. He quickly started his descent, being careful to lock at least one arm on each rung, just in case it tried to throw him off the ladder.

He climbed lower and lower, realizing that the voice had not reentered his head. That bug bomb must have worked.

Mark heard a voice below him. "Oh, good! It's you."

"Of course, it's me. Who'd you expect?"

"I don't know. This voice in my head kept telling me all kinds of things."

"You have the staff, right."

"Yeah, I've got it, for what good it did me."

"Come on up, and we'll get out of here."

Cap'n Ben started climbing the ladder. "How'd you stand it in here? I mean it's like hope doesn't exist here. And that voice will drive you crazy... hey, where is it?"

"I dropped a bug bomb; that ran it off. It won't be gone for long, though."

"What's a bug bomb?"

"It's like bug spray for evil, only it doesn't kill it, it just makes it go away for a while."

"So, that's what that smell is. Right, let's get out of here."

"You're going to fall asleep as soon as you get out."

"I figured that out."

"Why'd you come in here in the first place?"

"Nobody else was. Those people, trapped in here, need to get out."

"So, you thought you could do it by yourself."

"Yeah, you know me, do or die."

They climbed out and Cap'n Ben fell asleep immediately. Mark didn't, he had only been in there for a few minutes by his time and less than ten seconds outside time.

* * *

The next day a mission was mounted to rescue those trapped in the labyrinth.

Mark walked into the school's museum with Mrs. Shadowitz. There were well over three hundred people dressed in gray work tunics, led by Mr. Diefenderfer and Gerod that filed into the museum. Each was carrying a duffel bag. The plan was that everyone would enter the labyrinth when Mark opened the door. The group would move through the rooms leaving one person in the previous room entered so that they could guide the way back. The idea of leaving markers in the rooms was thought to be too easy to tamper with.

Mark opened the door with the staff. Gerod tossed in a couple of bug bombs. He had no liking at all for the doom-saying voice that he had been told about.

"That ought to teach that pipsqueak imp who he's messing with."

Mark held the door open with his staff, and everyone entered and climbed down the ladder. That event alone took more than eight hours, outside time. Mark was the last one in and down the ladder.

The cavern that was the first room was well lit. Lanterns were burning and placed around on the floor. Everyone had staked out sections of the floor for themselves. The first ones in had already been there at least eight days according to time in the labyrinth. Mark made his way over to where the next door was.

Mark addressed the entire group. "Roaches. Get cinched up. It's really gross in there."

Everyone started putting their beekeeping hats on over their armor.

Gerod asked, "Are there any other doors in here?"

"This is the only door that I know about. I don't have any idea when it opens or how often. There might be other doors. This is the only one that has a sign beside it."

Mr. Diefenderfer asked Mark, "Did... perchance... you happen to... use the staff... to check... for other doors?"

"No sir. I didn't."

Mr. Diefenderfer shook his head. "Can't say... that I would have... either... It might be... prudent... to do so now." He lost his balance and started to fall, but Thaddeus Thorpe, one of the instructors from combat class, caught him.

"Are you all right, sir?"

"I don't know... this place... is most... disconcerting... and discomforting. Stay close... would you please."

"Maybe your brain damage is healing. All sorts of ailments are disappearing for other people in here. Even my nose has cleared up. I can smell things! Although, I'm not sure that is a good thing in here."

Mark worked his way along the wall. It took more than an hour before he reached the spot where all of the artifacts had been strewn. The wall opened.

"Hey, I've got it, another door!"

Everyone walked through the opening.

Even with all the lanterns lit, no one could see the far wall or the ceiling. The group was starting to spread out when they heard a low, guttural voice.

The voice said, "New meat."

Mr. Diefenderfer's voice seemed different, defiant.

"Prepare for combat!"

Everyone drew their swords and sat their lanterns and duffel bags down. The group backed themselves up into a large circle, everyone facing out. They moved slowly, as a unit, toward the sound of the voice.

Mr. Diefenderfer spoke again. "We're here to... rescue you. We have the key... to the labyrinth."

Another voice came from a different direction. The group tensed and stopped.

"You lie. There is no way out of here. No one has ever escaped."

"No one has ever escaped. That is true. That is because no one ever knew that there was a key to the doors in here."

Still from another direction there came the sound of ringing steel being scraped across stone. "There is no key. You lie."

"We can demonstrate if you let us."

Another voice answered. "Go ahead, show us. If you fail, you'll make a fine supper."

Still another voice said, "Ah... I want new meat, let's eat 'em for supper, anyway."

A metal bucket clanged past the group.

Gerod said, "Oh yes, we brought food for you. There is enough for everyone here. Check those bags that we sat down over there."

A figure scurried into the light, grabbed a bag, and pulled it back into the shadows.

"He's lying. There is no food, get 'em." The voice came from a different area than where the guy that had taken the bag had gone.

Gerod said, "There is food, enough for all of you, and we have discovered the way out."

"You lie, there is no way out."

Mark said, "Yes, there–" Mr. Diefenderfer's hand on his shoulder silenced him.

The voice from the guy with the bag sounded. "He's telling the truth about the food. If the other bags are like this one, there is enough for everyone and then some."

"Tell me, is there here... one called... Joseph Young?"

"Yeah. He's on the other side."

"If you could produce him... he would vouch, I'm sure... for my veracity."

"That's not needed. Show us this key you said you had."

Mark started to hold up the staff, but Mr. Diefenderfer put his hand on his hand and stopped him. He whispered to the group. "Move slowly back toward the door."

"Hold it! I just want to see the key."

"We have the key but it takes... a specific person to operate it." Mr. Diefenderfer's speech was definitely improving.

"Yeah. Show me."

"We're not trying to trick you. Don't be alarmed."

The figure that had been doing most of the talking stepped from the shadows. He was ragged and very dirty looking. A troglodyte existence had transformed this man into a loathsome pariah of a creature, seemingly unfit for the outside world. Speculation on their culture that had evolved over the eons that they had been trapped in this place brought to mind unspeakable atrocities, unacceptable to be told in any circumstances. He was missing an arm, freshly severed and not yet grown back.

"I'm not the one who should be afraid." He stepped closer to the group and his body odor was overpowering.

Thaddeus said, "That's close enough, we can smell you just fine."

The group moved to the area of the door that they had just come through. Mark touched the wall with the staff. Nothing happened. Mark slid the staff along the wall, to the right, until an opening appeared. Very large winged creatures fluttered out.

Mark said, "It's the wrong room."

The lone figure that had emerged into the light said, "That's not the door you came through. Go back the other way."

Mark did as the man said. A few feet past where he had started was where he found the door.

The man said, "It looks like he's telling the truth. Start rounding everyone up and tell 'um the news."

It didn't take long for people; dirty, ragged, defeated wretches really, to start coming to the door with just a glimmer of hope shining in their dull eyes. At first, there were just one or two at a time, then groups of three, four, and five, and then large groups of ten and more, started coming. Mark gave them all the same instructions, while holding his nose and the door. Most of the workers and some of the instructors followed the group.

"The next room is the way out. Don't go into any other rooms. When we get everybody into this room, I'll come and open the door that leads out."

Most of the workers who had come in with the expedition busied themselves passing out meal packs and reassuring everyone that what was happening was, in fact, real.

Mr. Diefenderfer led a team of explorers to search the huge room.

After no one coming for over an hour, Mark walked back into the first room and climbed the ladder a few steps. He was sure that everyone could see him.

"When you get out, you are going to fall asleep. That's natural, since you haven't been able to sleep, at all, for as long as you have been in here. That's going to happen to me, too. There may be other effects as well. Some of you may wish to stay in here until all your injuries are healed. We came this far to get you out. We won't abandon you now."

Mark pointed up. "The way out is up there. I'm going to climb this ladder and open the door. The group up there is going to help you out. It might take some time. Be patient."

He reached the top and pushed the staff through the door. He saw a commotion start in the museum. He didn't want to fall asleep so he didn't climb out. Shortly, the first person was up.

Mark asked the first climber as he neared the exit, "Do you know Joseph Young? Is he here?"

"He's not here. Must still be back in the grotto."

"Thanks."

Every prisoner elected to climb out. One day later, inside time, the last one was out. Mark climbed back down the ladder and entered the room where everybody had been. No one was there to be seen. The poignant, overbearing oppressiveness of the labyrinth was beginning to sink into him, again. He was hungry, and he wanted very much to sleep.

What was that? He saw, out of the corner of his eye, a shadow cross near him.

Mark scanned the room. There was no sign of anyone. He turned off the lantern that had been left near the door and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark. There, in the far distance, he could see the faint glow of light.

He turned the lantern back on and looked for the bags that had been left there. They were gone. The contents had been strewn on the floor. He found a meal pack, sat down and began to eat. Just when he was finishing his meal, he heard a large rush of water in the distance. A few minutes later, water started creeping over the floor.

Mark stood and held the lantern up. Meal packs were starting to float on the water. The water was slowly rising. He backed up to where the door was. Evidently the floor was slightly sloped away from the wall. Water hadn't reached there yet.

There was another sound of water rushing, this time, somewhat closer. The water on the floor started to recede; carrying meal packs with it, farther into the cavern until the water was no longer deep enough to float them. Again, Mark saw a shadow cross beside him. He turned to look and nothing was there.

"Who's there?"

No answer.

Mark put the staff into Aaron's Grasp and withdrew his sword. "We have the key to the labyrinth. Everyone else is already out of here."

Silence.

Mark retrieved the staff and touched the wall. The door opened. "I'm telling the truth. There is a way out of here."

More silence.

Mark spoke to an imaginary person in the next room. "There's someone out here, but they won't say anything or show themselves."

Might be a spirit. I had better toss out a couple of bug bombs.

Mark did just that. They ignited and burned. A burnt fish smell filled the air.

Mark heard something approaching. He turned to look. He saw a lantern. When the figure approached closer, he could see that it was Gerod.

"Hi, Mark. Thought you might be back by now. How are you holding up?"

"I've been better, but I'm all right."

Gerod sniffed the air. "Bug bomb?"

"Yeah, I've been seeing this shadow moving out of the corner of my eye. I didn't want to take any chances."

"It might be that ancient warrior that Joseph Young was telling us about. He's supposed to be guarding a sunstone."

"A sunstone?"

"The ancient Aztecs used to carve calendars is stone. This one must be a special one. This guy won't let anyone get near it."

"Where is it?"

Gerod picked up a meal pack. "Don't know. We haven't found it yet. We've found a bunch of other stuff though."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Well, we found the lost U.T. stone, an ancient cloak, an ancient manuscript; Mr. Diefenderfer thinks that it might be the lost Testament of Enoch. There's a bunch of stuff. Everything that we are finding was placed so that it wouldn't get flushed."

"Flushed?"

"Yeah. The floor is like a big shallow bowl with a door in the middle. First, all of the doors around the walls open at the same time. That decreases the air pressure in here. Water rushes in until the pressure is equalized again. The door in the floor opens and pressurized air rushes in as the water flows out, one giant flush. Evidently, a flowing substance can pass both ways through the doors when they open."

The precious few possessions that had been brought into the labyrinth were either kept with their owners or left where the invading waters couldn't reach them.

"Where does the water come from?"

"Haven't got the foggiest. Let's go look."

Mark put the staff and sword back into Aaron's Grasp. "Let's go."

"Which way did you hear that first flush from?"

Mark pointed across the way. "Over there. It sounded like it was a good ways off."

"I don't think that the others have made it that far yet. We'll probably see them when we get over there."

"Isn't this place getting to you guys yet?"

"You mean no sleep, little food and just the evil feeling of the place? Yeah, it's getting to us, but we have a job to do. You can either let it get to you and quit or you can do the best job you can. It's up to the person really. True Magi will do what they have to. They won't quit. If we quit, we lose."

Mark and Gerod crossed the expanse making small talk about what they wanted to do when they were out of the labyrinth.

They stopped when a quick shadow passed in front of them. Mark asked, "What was that?"

"Don't know. It could be that ancient warrior fellow trying to warn us off. I don't sense any evil presence."

"Let's take a wide path around that area ahead."

"That sounds like a wise move. I don't know what this fellow wants, or what he is capable of."

They walked left, giving a wide berth to whatever might lie ahead.

"Hold on a second, Mark. I'm going to try far seeing again. No one has been able to do it in here yet. I'm thinking that if I concentrate, I might be able to do it, a little."

Gerod dropped to his knees and put his hands over his face. After a moment he said, "I've got it. That's the sunstone, about fifty yards to the right."

"I wish I could do that."

"Gerod stood back up and they continued walking. "That's a couple of years ahead of where you are right now, but if you really want to learn, I'll help you when we get out."

"Is it hard?"

"Learning to see with the mind's eye is a little difficult, but after that, far seeing is pretty easy."

"Why is it so hard to do in here?"

"I don't know. There's just something about this place that oppresses your spirit."

"What's the hardest thing to learn?"

"Well now, that depends on the person. Most say that remanifesting is the hardest. Some say Maode Maharaw."

"I've already done that."

"Yes, but you can't yet call it up at will."

Mark looked down at his feet. "No, I can't."

"Well, I'd say that learning and understanding the basic connections between the mind, body and spirit are the hardest. Once you understand that, then everything else falls into place."

"Like, how?"

"Let's see... have you ever been preparing to go on a trip or going to do something that you were excited about, and you had to get up early? You set the alarm, and then you get up five minutes before the alarm goes off."

"Yeah! When we were going to Albuquerque."

"That's what I'm talking about. Your mind, body and spirit were all working for the same goal. Do you remember how you felt that night before you went to bed?"

"Yeah, I felt good; I was really looking forward to being there. I felt almost as if I were there."

"That kind of attitude, that kind of feeling, and that kind of belief are what you need to develop for anything that you are working on."

"I see. That sounds like it might be hard. It's hard to get that excited about stuff."

"Excited isn't the right word. It's more like a very cheerful commitment."

"I see. It's like when I developed Aaron's Grasp. I was just walking along, talking to my friends and practicing the exercises. I wasn't really thinking about it. I was just doing it automatically. That's when I got it. I can't really explain it."

"That's right. You let your mind step out of the process, so that your body and your spirit could work together without obstruction. That's what it takes for Aaron's Grasp. For Remanifestation, your mind, body, and spirit have to want to be someplace else, all at the exact same moment. For seeing with the mind's eye you want to shut your body out and let your mind and spirit work together. For far seeing you let your spirit take control of the process."

"I see."

"It all comes down to understanding the relationships between the mind, body, and spirit and learning how to control them. Ah, it looks like we are there." Gerod stopped and pointed at the wall. "The water has to come from somewhere around here. Hold on while I use the Far Seeing again."

Gerod dropped to his knees again and covered his face. "Ah... That's interesting. The water is in a pool on a ledge high up on the wall." Gerod stood back up. "There's a ledge, like a ramp, that leads up to the ledge on that wall. It starts way over there." He pointed to the wall on the right. "That solves the mystery of where the water comes from."

"Gerod... Is that you?" Mr. Diefenderfer's distant voice came from the wall area to the left. They looked and saw lanterns approaching.

"Yes, sir. Mark's with me."

"Good. As soon as we complete the circumference, we can get out of this wretched place."

"Did you find many more artifacts?"

"We have twenty-five bags full, plus what we can carry."

"We found the sunstone. That ancient warrior is still guarding it, we think."

"What do you mean? He either is or he isn't."

"We didn't see him directly, but someone is around, watching us. We've only seen him as a shadow of motion. We didn't want to provoke him so we didn't get too close to the sunstone."

"Where is the sunstone?"

"It's about two hundred or so yards back that way." Gerod pointed toward the center of the cavern.

"Very well. We'll leave it for now."

The group caught up with Gerod and Mark.

A man spoke whom Mark didn't recognize.

"So, you're Mark Young. My good friend, AlHufus, has told me about you. I am Joseph Young, your great, great, great, great, grandfather. I am pleased to meet you." Joseph Young offered his hand to Mark.

Mark shook his hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, sir."

On the way around the rest of the perimeter, they found an assortment of other artifacts. Mark got to hear the story, from Joseph Young himself, of how he came to have the staff and the foretelling that led to where they were today.

"I have the unique ability to see, as it were, underground. If I concentrate, I am able to see objects that do not occur in nature. I was in the Middle East, on an excavation, when I saw the staff. I dug it out. As soon as I touched it, I was given the foretelling of you and this staff. I had no clue as to what the staff was or what it was to be used for. I only knew that the sixth firstborn in my line of descendants would inherit it. I was shown where to hide the staff in a dream and was told never to speak of it to anyone. As a precaution, I enciphered a message that only you could read. It seems a good thing that I did that."

The group reached the door with all of the artifacts that they could carry. Mark had a little trouble finding the door again, but once he did, everyone filed into the room that led out of the labyrinth. Mark was about to enter when he felt a heavy blow strike the back of his neck. He went down to his knees. Instinctively he shoved the staff into Aaron's Grasp and started to pull his sword out but was too late. The door closed. Another blow struck the back of his neck. Blackness engulfed his consciousness.

### Chapter 20

# The Sunstone

A god by any other name...

Mark started to regain consciousness. Everything was black. Something was holding him. He felt around his chest, ropes. He was tied to something. He felt behind him, cold stone. He struggled to free himself but the ropes were too tight. He felt in his pocket. The utility knife and bug bombs were gone. He grabbed for his sword. A deep, raspy voice spoke.

"Little Warrior. I am sad that I must do this. I tell you this now, so that your soul might not condemn me in the afterlife... I was set here by the gods themselves to guard this sunstone, for all time... It is forbidden to destroy the sunstone, but no man may look upon it to gain its secrets. These are the words of Quetzalcoatl himself."

"Who's Quetzalcoatl?"

"The Winged Serpent god, Kukulcan of the Nine Winds... Son of the Morning Star. You must know him."

"Nope. Never heard of him. Why are you doing this?"

"I was set to guard the sunstone. Guard it I will. It is commanded of me by the gods. My brother stole the key and was punished. I must kill you, so that you cannot lead others in here to this sunstone. My heart is heavy, and I wish you to know this."

"You can't kill me in here. No one dies in here, not for good."

"This is true, Young Warrior. The gods have shown me the way out. They have told me that to use that way brings death and failure. This is the way that I will send you."

"Your gods are false gods. There is only the One True God. You serve Benrah, the Son of Evil!"

"I do not know this Benrah, Young One. I serve Quetzalcoatl."

"They're the same thing. Ask yourself, would a true god condemn a warrior to a fate like this?"

"It takes a true warrior for a task of this importance."

Mark still had his hand on his sword. He was beginning to realize that he was going to have to fight his way out.

"What are you worried about? No one has the key to the sunstone; your brother stole it."

"My concern is not with the key. My task is to guard the stone."

Mark felt himself being turned upside down. In a flash he realized that he was tied to the sunstone.

"I will push this stone into the water. There it will stay for all time. That is the way out. You will die for all time."

The ancient warrior was rolling the stone that Mark was tied to. Mark withdrew his sword. The stone splashed into the water. He felt himself sinking. The sword was awkward against the thick ropes. A terrible smell invaded his mind. A deep resounding thud coursed through the water. The stench was getting stronger. Mark struggled with the ropes. Two more thuds sounded. He was sinking ever deeper. An uncontrollable urge to breath clawed at his chest. He remembered something, something that he had almost forgotten.

He reached into Aaron's Grasp. It was still there, the oxy-cap. He put it under his tongue, and it started releasing oxygen. Several more loud thuds reverberated through the water. Something was trying to get to him. He remembered the smell from when he was in the moat. It was the same. Leviathans were breaking through the wall to get to him. The sunstone struck bottom. More thuds sounded. The wall cracked and started to fall away.

The stone slipped. He felt himself sinking again. Dim light filtered through the water. He worked the sword through the last of the ropes.

A huge shadow swam past. Profound drowsiness grabbed his consciousness. Another shadow. He felt the huge beast at his side. Suddenly, he was rushing through the water.

* * *

Mark watched an odd sight, from over head. He knew immediately that he was dreaming. A man, with long, dark hair, carrying something, was running from a mob. They were chasing him across an open plain. The dream was peculiar. It was taking place sometime in the very distant past. The fleeing warrior stopped and turned. The mob got closer to him. He dodged rocks and clubs and anything else they could throw. He charged the hostile pack. The sword flashed streaks of blue-white light, like an electric arc. He wielded it like a sword, but it wasn't a sword, not really. It was like a long, copper-colored, metallic, pointed baton. Soon, the attacking mob lay motionless, looking like they were dead.

Mark awoke. He was in a hospital bed, again. He remembered what had happened. He slid out of bed and started looking for his clothes. He had to get his friends out of there. They could have been in there for months, their time.

"Hello! Is anyone here?"

A moment later the curtain was pulled back. An older, oversized lady peered from beneath a white hood. Her eyes were dull and normal looking, not like a Magi's eyes.

"Hello, there. You need to get back in bed until Mrs. Shadowitz says otherwise."

"You're not a nurse."

"No, I'm just standing in for Mary while she's on her lunch break. I help out when I can. Things have been pretty hectic in here."

"Where are my clothes? I have to get back in there."

"You're not going anywhere until Mrs. Shadowitz says so."

"We'll see about that." Mark pulled the other curtain back and went around the lady. Two rather large fellows in white tunics blocked the door.

"Now, see here, young man! I said that you're not going anywhere until Mrs. Shadowitz says so."

"Well, go get her then. I have to get back into the labyrinth. The expedition is still trapped in there."

"I don't know nothin' 'bout that. Now, you haul your butt back into that bed, and I'll tell you what I do know."

Mark checked to see if he still had the staff. It was there. He climbed back onto the bed.

"Mr. Thorpe found you by the moat. I'm telling you what's the truth. That man is always on the prowl, looking for trouble, if you ask me. He figured it out pretty quick that you must have come up out of the moat. Real genius he is, to figure that out... That was almost a week ago. They sent down a submarine and found the hole. Didn't take much, after that, to figure out how you got out.

"Um-um, Mrs. Shadowitz is some kind of mad at Mr. Thorpe. He left you lying out there by the moat. Didn't tell anyone that you were still there. Went off to tell the submarine crew to start looking. Reckon he was more worried 'bout what was still in the moat. That's how you got that nasty sunburn on your face and neck. It's 'bout healed up now. Been putting aloe salve on it. Fresh aloe works wonders on sunburn. Got to be fresh, though."

"How is everybody? The rest of the expedition, how are they doing?"

"What expedition? What are you talking about?"

"There were about thirty people left down in there. Are you saying that they haven't made it out yet?"

"I don't know anything about no thirty people."

"Get my clothes. I'm going back in. Those people are still in there."

"You ain't going nowhere 'til Mrs. Shadowitz says so."

"You send for Mrs. Shadowitz, right now!"

The lady shook her head and turned to the guards. "Go get Mrs. Shadowitz."

One of the guards turned and left. He returned a few minutes later. "Mrs. Shadowitz said to let him go."

The lady went to a cabinet against the wall. She returned with Mark's clothes. Mark closed the curtains and got dressed.

* * *

Several instructors were standing watch at the door in the museum. Mark ignored them. He laid the staff against the wall and stepped through, onto the ladder. Lanterns lit the cavern below.

"Ready to get out!"

Loud cheers rang out from below. Mark held the door open. A procession of people climbed up and out. Notably missing were Mr. Diefenderfer, Joseph Young and Gerod. They were waiting for Mark to join them.

Gerod grabbed Mark by the shoulders. "Mrs. Shadowitz tossed in a note that said you were found unconscious, by the moat. What happened?"

"That guy guarding the sunstone hit me with something. I was tied to the sunstone when I woke up. He pushed me and the sunstone into the water, on the ledge, I think. He said that he had to keep anybody from seeing the sunstone. I woke up in the healing ward."

"That has to mean that the sunstone is in the moat. We were going to go back in for it. I guess we don't have to now."

"Yeah, I guess so. We still need to get that guy out of there."

"It doesn't sound like he's too friendly."

Joseph Young put his hand on Mark's shoulder. "He's not. Stays to himself unless someone gets too close to the sunstone."

"Yeah, but I'm not going to leave anybody in there that I don't have to."

Gerod said, "Well then, let's do it."

Mark led the way. Once they were in the grotto, Gerod asked, "Did he tell you his name?"

"No. He kept calling me Young Warrior or Young One and stuff like that."

Gerod called out. "Warrior! Speak with us."

Deep from the darkness, a voice boomed. "Speak."

"You have nothing left to guard. Will you come out with us?"

"No!"

"Why stay?"

Silence.

"A slave that loves his chains cannot be freed." Mr. Diefenderfer's voice was absolutely normal sounding. "Mark, you will go through the door, first. Hold it open, if you will, from the other side."

Gerod was the last to come through the door. His foot had just passed the threshold, and the ancient warrior tackled him. He lunged forward, falling face first onto the floor. Cold steel rang from scabbards as Joseph Young and Mr. Diefenderfer drew, simultaneously.

"Brave Warrior. You cannot win this fight."

The warrior delivered a blow to Gerod's head. In a dash, he was hidden in the shadows, again.

"Mark, he is after you, primarily. Climb the ladder, to the top. Hold the door open for us."

Gerod sat up. "Use this on him. It will put him to sleep." He fished in his pocket and removed a small vial. It looked like the same vial that he had used on Mark's mother when he had rescued them after the storm. Gerod got to his feet.

Joseph Young took the bottle from him. "Are you all right? Can you fight?"

"I'll be all right in a few minutes. That guy packs a real wallop. He knows what he's doing." Gerod drew his sword.

Mark called down. "The door's open."

The trio inched toward the ladder. Gerod started up. A flash of motion shot from the shadows. Mr. Diefenderfer spun himself into the warrior's path and they collided. Both fell to the floor like a dead oak. The warrior started to regain his feet. Mr. Young stepped up and touched his forehead. The warrior wobbled and fell over.

* * *

Mark awoke. "Hello..." A few minutes passed before the curtain around his bed was pulled back.

"Hi there. Welcome back to the world of the living. You've been asleep for a week again and we don't understand why since you were only in the labyrinth for a few minutes this time." It was the blond lady whom he had seen the first time that he was in there.

"Who is that screaming?"

"It's that warrior fellow, from the labyrinth. He's mad because we have him strapped to the bed and won't let him get up."

"Why not?"

"Well, he is a tad violent. Keeps insisting that he has to kill anyone who has seen that sunstone."

"Can I talk to him?"

"I don't see why not. I have to let Mrs. Shadowitz know, first."

"Okay. I'd like to get something to eat, too."

"You feel up to seeing your friends? They wanted to see you when you woke up. They said that they would bring up something from The Oasis. Got any requests?"

"Yes, ma'am. Breakfast would be nice. Tell them I'd like breakfast."

The young lady left. A short while later Nick, Jamal and Chenoa came into the room. They pulled over a table from next to the wall and laid out the food.

"Hi. I missed you guys."

Chenoa said, "We missed you, too."

They all sat down and began to eat.

Nick asked the question that was on everybody's mind. "What happened?"

"At first, when we entered the labyrinth this time, we thought that we would have to go through all the rooms. Mr. Diefenderfer suggested that we look for other doors. That's when we found the other door that led directly to the last room. Everything else was like, okay, I guess. Except for that warrior guy. I suppose that you have already heard about that. What's been going on out here?"

Chenoa became excited at that question. "Well, we just about lost a flags match. LeOmi saved the day. She got the bonus flag all by herself. You should have seen her. She was awesome. Tigers, there had to have been fifty of them on The Island. That girl is good with ropes. She's like an acrobat or a trapeze artist or something. She was just awesome."

"Sounds like I missed something worth seeing."

Jamal said, "Yeah, you did. That girl is something special. Hey, get this. Tim has been teaching Mr. Diefenderfer's class. Not an instructor, but the teacher. You should see him. He's happier than a bear with a backscratcher."

"I bet he is."

Nick asked, "How are you doing?"

"Actually, I'm doing pretty good. I'm not anxious to go back in there anytime soon."

"What was it like?"

"Well, I'm not going to offer to give you a tour. I can honestly say that it is the worst place that I have ever been. I hope that I never have to go back."

A voice from the side startled them, slightly. It was Mr. Diefenderfer. "I agree with Mark. Although, the place did have its benefits."

They stared at him. They couldn't believe their eyes or ears.

Mark said, "I thought your voice sounded more normal than usual when we were in the cavern."

"Indeed. I have also regained my physical eyesight and physical hearing. As well, my headaches are gone. I will tell you this. If I didn't feel it necessary to rescue those people, and I had it to do all over again, with what I know now about the experience, I would not have gone. Even with the knowledge of its healing characteristics."

"Will you join us for some breakfast? There's plenty of food."

"I don't mind if I do. Tell me, Mark, how did you survive long enough to make it out of the moat? That opening that you came through was more than a quarter of a mile deep."

Everyone looked at Mark. A voice sounded from the side. It was Mrs. Shadowitz. "Ah... I think I know. It was the oxy-cap that Rajah gave you when were in the life sciences section, wasn't it?"

Mark grinned. "Yes, ma'am. I had almost forgotten that I had it. If it hadn't been for that, I probably would have drowned."

"You know that you weren't supposed to learn about those until next year. I'm glad that we had our little rides."

"Me, too. Thank you."

"You're quite welcome."

"Would you care to have some breakfast with us?"

"I'll join you, but I'm not hungry. What can you tell me about this warrior fellow? He won't tell us anything except that he has to kill anyone that has seen the sunstone."

"He told me that a god named Quetzalcoatl put him in there with the sunstone and that he had to guard it. He said that no one could look at it and gain its secrets. Oh yeah, he said that it is forbidden to destroy it, too."

"Did he tell you his name?"

"No, ma'am, he didn't."

"You think you're ready to talk to him now?"

"Yes, ma'am. Where's the sunstone, now?"

"It's in the science section. They're examining it. All of the markings have been eroded off it."

Mrs. Shadowitz got up. The group followed her to the warrior's bed. She pulled back the curtain. He was a very big man. He had very long, straight black hair. He jerked to look at who had pulled the curtain back. His eyes fixed on Mark.

"You're dead. I killed you myself."

This guy reminded Mark of the ancient warrior that he had seen in his dream. There was an uncanny resemblance, but this wasn't the guy in his dream.

"Not quite... Tell me something. If all of the markings on the sunstone are gone, why guard it."

"You lie! Those markings are fixed in the sunstone. I have seen them myself."

Mrs. Shadowitz said, "Oh, he's telling the truth." She waved her hand in front of her. The image of the sunstone appeared, in thin air, in front of them.

"What kind of magic is this? It's a lie!"

"You seem to think that everything is a lie. I assure you, it is not a lie. What you are seeing is real. It comes from the power of The One God."

"The Young Warrior spoke of this One God. Tell me the name of this One God."

Mrs. Shadowitz lowered herself to her knees. "His name in the modern tongue is Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh. In the ancient tongue it is pronounced Hawyah Asher Hawyah."

"I know this name. He is the enemy of the gods!"

Mrs. Shadowitz stood back up. "Yes... I suppose that is true, from their perspective. Anyway, what you see before you is how the stone appears this very moment."

"What you see, is that you do not see. It is still my task to guard the sunstone. Let me go so that I may yet fulfill what the gods command of me."

"What is your name?"

"I am called, Otomi."

Mark spoke. "Otomi, did you ever consider that your task may be complete. I mean, a lot of people consider that we live in the time of the end of days. Was your task to guard the sunstone for all time or just until the end of days? Think about it. Your instructions must have been given to you in an ancient tongue. You have learned to speak English over the many years that you were in the labyrinth. You have probably also learned a few other languages as well. Is it possible that you were to only guard the sunstone until the end of days?"

"Quetzalcoatl said that I was to guard the sunstone for all time. This I must do."

"Then you have failed." Slone Voif spoke from behind the group. He had walked up unnoticed. "Out here, you will grow old and die. You will never be able to complete your mission."

"This is true. I must return the sunstone to the Cave of Quetzalcoatl."

"Great Warrior, how can you do this? It is not possible."

"No one has seen the writing. It is still possible."

"These warriors will not allow it. How can you defeat so many."

"With Quetzalcoatl, much can happen."

Slone turned to Mrs. Shadowitz. "Why not just let him go back into the labyrinth with the stone. The scientists have already examined it. It's not like you'll lose it forever. You can always go back in and get it, if you think you need it."

Mrs. Shadowitz said, "The disposition of this man and the sunstone are a matter for the Council of Elders to decide. I will tell them of your suggestion."

"I just wanted to bring that up as a possibility."

"Your suggestion is noted. Now, if I may continue."

"I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Otomi, if I understand you correctly, the sunstone can still be read."

There was no answer.

"I'll take that as a yes... Now, what's so all fired important about this stone that you have devoted all these years to guarding it in the labyrinth?"

No answer.

"Now, if Quetzalcoatl himself set you to guard this stone in such a place, there must be something on it that he doesn't want our side to see. This sunstone has been recovered in what we believe to be a crucial spot in history. It must be time for us to learn what is on this sunstone."

Still, no answer from Otomi.

* * *

Later that afternoon, the Council of Elders met in special session to decide the fate of Otomi and the sunstone. Harmonious Thorpe stepped down from the Council of Elders to allow Joseph Young to have his seat back. It had been the presumed death of Joseph Young that had let Harmonious Thorpe gain his seat on the council in the first place. Thorpe seemed uncharacteristically gracious in stepping down.

Mrs. Shadowitz looked down from the council seats high above. The prisoner Otomi, stood in the center of the chamber, illuminated from above and in shackles. "You stand accused of the attempted murder of Mark Young. Do you have anything that you wish to say?"

"I did what I had to do. I was commanded by the gods to protect the sunstone. Killing the young warrior was my only choice."

There was a pause before she spoke again. "It is the unanimous decision of the Council of Elders of the Seventh Mountain that you are guilty as charged. From here, you will be remanded to the custody of the prison, Mattaraw, until such time as you are deemed worthy to be released. The sunstone will remain with us for study. This Court of the Council of Elders of the Seventh Mountain is concluded."
TOP TEN

RANK TRIBE STUDENT ACADEMIC EXTRA TOTAL

1 Emerald ______ LeOmi Jones ______9800 ___ 1363 __11163

2 Ruby ________ Slone Voif ________9800 ___ 1315 __11115

3 Onyx ________ Cynthia Dover ____9800 ___ 1309 __11109

6 tie Emerald ____ Chenoa Day_______9800 ___ 1301 __11101

6 tie Emerald ____ Nikola Poparov ____9800 ___ 1301 __11101

6 tie Emerald ____ Jamal Terfa _______9800 ___ 1301 __11101

7 Ruby_________ Judd Jenkins ______9793 ___ 1298 __11091

8 Jasper ________ Keshena Moore ____9800 ___ 1290 __11090

9 Diamond _____ Darnel Washington _9800 ___ 1282 __11082

10 Topaz _______Vladimir Kirsch ___ 9800 ___ 1250 __11050

### Chapter 21

# Graduation

It isn't over until it's over.

Nick found their names on the bulletin board. "Check it out! We're tied for sixth place. Sorry Mark, you're number ninety-nine."

"I know. Mr. Thorpe wouldn't let me take a makeup test for the one I missed while I was in the labyrinth and I didn't do that well in combat class."

The bulletin board outside of the council chambers showed the standings of all students, tribes and teams. For individuals, the numbers were divided into academic and extracurricular, and then totaled. Tribe standings were in a different section. Emerald Tribe was head and shoulders above the others.

"Yeah, look at this. There are one, two, three... four, five freshmen in the top ten for the whole school."

Mark continued, "You guys got perfect fourteen-hundreds in all of your classes. That's great!" One thousand points out of a possible fourteen hundred points were needed to pass each class.

Chenoa said, "Why wouldn't Mr. Thorpe let you take the test that you missed while you were in the labyrinth?"

"He said it wouldn't be fair to the other students. He doesn't give makeup tests." Mark had perfect scores in everything except combat and algebra.

The final procession of students, the first one-hundred carrying a flag indicating their class rank, would be riding past the reviewing stands tomorrow, and would be led by the top student.

"LeOmi Jones is going to lead tomorrow. She's forty-eight points ahead of Slone Voif. I wish I could see his face when he finds out that she beat him."

"Turn around and have a look, then." It was Slone's voice that they heard.

They turned to face Slone and his cohorts.

"Looks like LeOmi beat you, again. How's your nose?" Chenoa's out-and-out loathing for Slone was obvious.

"She's got guts and style. That's something that you'll never have."

Chenoa started for Slone. Nick and Jamal held her back.

Mark said, "He's baiting you. That's what he does best."

"I know. I just want to beat the snot out of him, just once."

"There's nothing stopping you. I'm right here."

Mark said, "Another day, Slone." He leaned to Chenoa. "I know how you feel. Let's get out of here."

Tim walked up behind the group. "That is quite an accomplishment for a freshman, LeOmi that is."

Chenoa said, "Yeah, she wasn't about to let Slone get it."

Slone eyeballed her, not saying a word. He just walked off, henchmen in tow.

"You guys did pretty good, too. Not many freshmen have ever made it into the top one hundred, much less the top ten."

Mark said, "Thanks. You did pretty good, yourself. How'd you like teaching?"

"I loved it! It was great! I wish it was not temporary, though."

Jamal said, "It puts you in pretty good standing, having experience and all."

"I guess it does... Where are you guys off to?"

Mark said, "We need to go get our flags."

"I have some stuff to do, too. I have to clean my stuff out of Mr. Diefenderfer's office. Guess I will see you tomorrow, when I bring your families in."

"I thought Shana was going to do that."

"No... afraid not. Her position was temporary, too."

The final day at school arrived and 7 a.m. found the friends in their favorite booth in The Oasis. They were waiting for the arrival of their families.

Jamal said, "It all seems like a blur. How can a year at school go by so fast?"

Nick said, "We did a lot of stuff."

Mark said, "I didn't have a clue when I got here. Now, I wouldn't trade it for anything."

Chenoa said, "Maybe we can get together this summer and do something."

Nick said, "It's not likely. We live too far apart and we can't remanifest, yet."

A voice interrupted them. It was Mark's mom, Shirley. "Congratulations, hon! You made it. Tim tells me that you are in the top one hundred for the whole school. That's wonderful."

"Thanks, Mom. Hi, Dad. Hi, James. Hi, Tim. Y'all had breakfast, yet?"

Steve said, "Not yet, son."

"We can sit over there." Mark stood and pointed to an Emerald table. He turned back to his friends. "See you later."

"Hon, I got you a yellow rose to wear. Here, let me pin it on you."

"Why a yellow rose?"

"Yellow roses mean joy and happiness."

"I have to wear my blazon in the ceremony. I can't wear it with the blazon on."

"You can wear it now. We're so proud of you."

Tim said, "I have to leave now. I need to pick up some more families."

"Thanks, Tim. See you at the ceremony."

Families kept arriving. The Oasis filled up quickly. Breakfast was short, but sweet. By eight-thirty, families were heading to the bleachers and students were heading to the reviewing stands.

Nine a.m. brought the opening announcements. Mrs. Shadowitz stood, center stage, in the reviewing stands. Tribes were seated around the stands. She faced the crowd in the bleachers.

"Guests, teachers and staff, students, I offer this simple prayer." She paused. "God, grant us peace as we humbly serve you."

She paused again. "I have some news. Mr. Diefenderfer has decided to step down from teaching in order to lead the team in the fulltime study of the recently recovered artifacts. He has named, as his permanent replacement... Timothy Augustus Fairbanks."

There was a moment of stunned silence.

Mark leaned toward Nick. "I don't believe it. That's his lifelong dream."

"If anyone deserves it, it's him."

Emerald tribe jumped to their feet and started a standing ovation.

"Shana O'Riley will take his place as counselor."

Emerald Tribe, still standing, applauded.

"And, I must say, it's about time. Gerod Hudson and Shana O'Riley have asked me to announce their engagement. They haven't set the date yet, but they plan to have a traditional Magi wedding. For those of you who don't know, that will be one humdinger of a party. They plan to invite all of you back here for that event. Now... for the awards."

Nick whispered to Mark. "You ready for this."

Mark whispered back, "Not really. There're a lot of people here."

Mrs. Shadowitz's amplified voice said, "First and foremost, Emerald Tribe's LeOmi Jones."

LeOmi stood and started making her way to the stand.

"Perfect scores in all classes, top points in flags matches, top overall points, David's Crown for Courage, twice... overall school champion and a freshman to boot. It has been many, many years since a freshman has achieved this honor. That makes her the winner of an all-expenses-paid, two week vacation, anywhere in the world, for her and her family."

LeOmi stood at attention while she received the trophies and awards.

"Next is Ruby Tribe's Slone Voif, beaten out of first place by a mere forty-eight points. Top points in all classes, third in points for flags matches, first in points for extracurricular activities and, our second freshman in the top ten. That makes him the winner of a one week, all-expenses-paid vacation, anywhere in the world, for him and his family."

Slone received his awards, grinning and waving at the crowd.

Jamal, Nick and Chenoa were called to the stand as a group. They received awards for academic excellence, teammanship, and a new award for being pre-chosen.

Much later, Mark received four awards for courage, as well as awards for teammanship, leadership, freshman sword single combat champion, and a new award for being pre-chosen by The General.

The morning ceremony ended at eleven. Mark, Chenoa, Nick and Jamal ran to find Tim. He was waiting for them at The Oasis.

"It is going to get awfully crowded in here. Better grab a table for your families, quick."

Mark said, "That's okay. We ate a big breakfast. We just wanted to say congratulations."

"Thanks. I never expected that. You could have knocked me over with a feather."

Mark unpinned his rose. "Here; I want you to have this. My mom gave it to me this morning to say congratulations. I can't wear it under the blazon. You wear it."

"Okay, I will. But you get it back right after the afternoon ceremony."

Mark reached up and patted Tim on the arm. "That's okay. I want you to have it. I'm proud of you."

Jamal said, "You deserve to make teacher. I'm proud of you, too."

Nick and Chenoa said, "Me, too."

The friends split up to find their families.

Tim made his way to the stage. This would be the first time that he sat at the teacher's table as a real, fulltime teacher.

Tim sat down. Ms. Vanmie said, "Nice rose. Congratulations."

"Thanks. Mark gave me the rose."

Ms. Vanmie had just taken a drink of her beverage. She spewed when Tim said that. "You're kidding, right?"

"No ma'am. His mother gave it to him to say congratulations. He could not wear it under his blazon so, he gave it to me."

"That's too funny. He just tagged you."

"What do you mean? Nobody is stalking me. My picture is still..." Tim caught himself.

Ms. Vanmie was rolling. "That's okay. I know you look at the album every morning. It's not against the rules. He didn't need your picture. He gave it back to me. That's not against the rules either."

"But he must have had more than a hundred chances to tag me."

"He didn't want to tag you. He wanted to give you a breather, let you relax. I picked up his thoughts when he asked for an assignment."

"That is funny. How many points does he get?"

"I don't remember, offhand. I have to look it up. It's well over two thousand and that prevents you from tagging him. You can give me his picture back, now."

"That puts him in the lead. We have to tell Mrs. Shadowitz. We have to get him a new flag."

Three o'clock rolled around. All of the students were mounted, lined up according to rank and waiting to pass in review. Tim, carrying a flag, ran up to Mark.

"Mark, give me your flag. You take this one."

Mark looked at the number one flag. "What's going on?"

"You move to the front of the line. Listen to the announcements."

Mrs. Shadowitz began. "Well... we have some late breaking news. Ladies and gentlemen, it seems that we have some extracurricular points to add for one of our students. Students, faculty, staff... brace yourself for this... Mark Young has tagged Tim Fairbanks. He has earned two thousand, three hundred and twenty-one points..."

Laughter flowed from the faculty and staff.

"That puts him more than a thousand points ahead of any other student this year. By unanimous vote of the Council of Elders, he is the school champion. All accolades have already been presented. They will not be recalled. However, he will be acknowledged as school champion and awarded a three week, all-expenses-paid vacation, for him and his family, anywhere in the world."

Applause sounded from the stands.

"Please stand... I present to you, the Four Thousand, One Hundred and Fifty First Year, Seventh Mountain, Student Body."

Mark led the parade of students. They approached the stands and Mrs. Shadowitz called, "Salute!"

All teachers, faculty and staff, lined in front of the stands drew their swords and held them high. The parade passed in review. Thunderous applause roared from the crowd.

The end of school festivities began immediately after the ceremonial events. The crowd occupied The Oasis and the school grounds. Everyone was eating and waiting for the final fireworks show.

Mrs. Shadowitz found Mark and his family on the school grounds. Chenoa's, Nick's and Jamal's families were with her.

"Oh, good. I'm glad you are all here. Would you all follow me, please?"

"Yes, ma'am."

They followed her to the front entrance to the mountain. That was where the art auction was going on. There was a huge new statue on the ground in front of the entrance. It was four horses with four figures standing in front of them. The horse in front was rearing and the other three knelt. It was a giant copy of the four statues that Mark had commissioned as Christmas presents for his friends and family.

Mrs. Shadowitz led the group through the crowd right up to the front of the statue. Emblazoned in emeralds, the simple inscription read:

For Friends

Destiny Chose Friends, Four.

Legend Sprang From Emerald's Core.

"I told you that we would let you know when we could shed some light on what your destiny is."

"Yes, ma'am. My destiny was to use the staff to unlock the labyrinth."

"That is part of it, we believe. There is more to the staff than we have discovered and we still have no idea why you four were pre-chosen."

"There's more to the staff. What is it?"

"We are sure that you will discover that, in time. Since we know that all of your destiny has not yet been fulfilled, we will have a guard watching you this summer. That goes for all four of you."

Mrs. Shadowitz looked directly at Mark and he could tell that she was bracing herself mentally for what she was about to say. "The head of each of the other schools has asked if you would come and try the staff on their labyrinths."
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