The Cave of Nine Bears (Chronicles of a Magi)

by Gene Curtis

  “A Navajo medicine man and some of his people, or was he Hopi? Anyway, it’s the same reservation. I think they called him Nine something or another. They were speaking Aztecan and I’m not very good at it; it’s practically a dead language you know.”

  Mr. Young said, “We have so many questions; let’s start from the beginning. Would you just tell us the whole story?”

  “Sure, why not?

  “It all started with that dream, the one where you acquired that staff. The dream was so lifelike; know what I mean? I recognized the staff immediately from my studies and realized I had to find you if I ever wanted to see it in person. Do you realize how many adolescent boys there are in the United States with the name Mark Young? Nevertheless, the search for you consumed me. It seemed almost hopeless. I’d almost given up when I had another dream, lifelike again, you see. My normal dreams aren’t like that. I dreamed I was you and a big fellow was telling me, ah... you... that you were to go to school to become a Magi. He showed you the school, this place here. I started searching for this mountain. It doesn’t exist anywhere on Earth; I can tell you that for a certainty. So I started searching legends and myths and that led me to the Hopi tribe in Arizona. I told them my story and they took me to those caves. I think they wanted to see how I reacted or what else I knew. After that they told me the legend of Six Eagles, how he climbed a sacred butte and fell asleep only to awaken in a different land with a single mountain just like I described to them. They didn’t tell which butte so I knew I had to try them all, and now I’m here.”

  Mr. Young asked, “Can you describe the glyphs in the caves for us?”

  “Sure, but they were all basically the same in all six caves. There were two very faint figures each with a staff: one figure with a crook and one figure with a straight one. I knew right away that it was Beauty and Bands. The figures were all drawn beside a large wheel with ten spokes, except for one that I didn’t see; it supposedly had twelve spokes.”

  Shana returned with the food. When she put the plates down, she pointed at a small crowd gathered on the edge of the picnic area. It couldn’t have been more than a hundred people. “Shall I tell them it’ll be a while?”

  Mark nodded, “Please, thank you. I’ll see them after supper.”

  Mr. Young looked up and said, “Thank you for nourishing our bodies.”

  Mr. Rutherford tasted his potatoes and exclaimed, “Oh, wow! She was quite correct. This is absolutely fabulous!”

  “Indeed,” said Mr. Diefenderfer. “You will find... that all of... the creations of... Jamal’s Kitchen are... absolutely fabulous. You are allowed... to leave a tip... should you desire.”

  Mr. Young added, “You’ll also have to fill out a comment card. The students that run this place are graded based on customers’ comments.”

  “Yes... yes, of course. I’ve eaten in many fine restaurants all over the world and,” he took another bite. “They really should charge for this, charge a lot.”

  “Tell us... if you would... good sir... how you came... to be an... amateur archeologist.”

  “Not much to tell, really. I retired and needed something to occupy my mind. I’d been doing textbook archeology, you know, digging through ancient texts, since I was a teenager. I was fascinated by ancient objects of power and started looking for them when I retired. I take on the odd assignment now and then to pay for my trips.”

  “And your wife... goes with you?”

  “Now and again, sort of a vacation for her you know.”

  “I see no... deceit in your... words. Therefore... because of your... great determination... in your quest... I will grant... you your heart’s... desire... if you... wish it so. There is however... a stipulation. You must... above all else... keep the knowledge... you gain... secret. You and... your wife.

  “What you will... gain is knowledge... of the things... you seek. Your travels and... explorations will be... accommodated by this... school. You may choose... to dwell here... among us... or continue in... your current abode.”

  “Tempting, but that means I can’t publish. If I can’t publish, I won’t be known. If I’m not known then no one will hire me. I won’t make enough to live on.”

  Mr. Young smiled, “Obviously you didn’t comprehend the full meaning of Mr. Diefenderfer’s words. You will have more work than you can shake a stick at and you’ll never have to worry about making ends meet should you choose to live among us.”

  Mr. Diefenderfer added, “I think we... can let you... publish to a... limited extent... which surely would... be more than... you do now. Of course... Mr. McGraw would... have to approve... the material... beforehand as he... does for several... already.”

  Mr. Young suggested, “Why don’t we give him a tour of our museum before he decides and let him meet Quintus? I think he’ll like him.”

  Shana interrupted, “Mark, would you like me to get Salina for you?”

  “Please.” Mark stood on the bench seat and held the staff high. The small crowd approached, knelt and laid their weapons on the ground before them. In unison they chorused, “I choose... my sword, my skills and my life serve you and your quest to defeat Benrah.”

  Mr. Rutherford patted his hands together in excitement. “Wonderful... wonderful... I knew it took oaths.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Spirals and Spokes

  “Where have you been?” Chenoa asked. There was a tone to her voice that made Mark think she was perturbed by more than his late arrival; after all it was just five minutes. Maybe it had to do with LeOmi being late too.

  He sat next to her at the picnic table. It was actually ten tables shoved together now since the regular Saturday night dinner group had gotten so large. “Library, doing a little research,” he said. “Where’s LeOmi?”

  Chenoa was cold and distant, “I haven’t seen her all day. I thought she was with you.”

  Mr. Diefenderfer asked, “Was your research... productive?”

  Mark didn’t want to discuss what he was really looking for in front of everyone since he had to keep the secret about the images from the real sunstone. He hoped that Mr. Diefenderfer would catch what he was after: a cave art style that matched the wheel he’d seen in the photos. That would give him an idea on where to concentrate the search for the staff and the fake sunstone. “I don’t know,” he said. “It was something that Mr. Rutherford said last week about the styles of cave art that I wanted to check out. The wheel of life is a common theme around the world, but the depictions vary. Africa’s wheels are mostly concentric circles. Asia’s wheels are spirals, most clockwise with three or four ridges, except for the Middle East where there are more. In the Americas, there are a lot of spirals in both directions but usually with five or six ridges. That’s true in Australia too. Then there is the rarer spoke wheel, which isn’t seen in Africa, Asia, or Australia, only in Europe and North America. It’s rare to find one with an odd number of spokes, six or eight are most common, four is rare and virtually none with more than eight spokes. Mr. Rutherford said there were ten or twelve spokes in the wheels he saw. I couldn’t find any with that many spokes.”

  Mr. Young said, “So you’re thinking you need to visit the Navajo reservation?”

  Mark nodded, “Yes sir.”

  Mr. Diefenderfer said, “That may not... be the best... idea. The Navajo are... spread out over... several thousand... square miles. Finding a single... individual when you... do not know... his name can... be quite difficult. However... I will make... inquiries.”

  LeOmi arrived with Bekka and Shana and sat next to Mark opposite Chenoa. “Hi, sorry I’m late.”

  “Perchance... you’ve been... doing research?”

  LeOmi nodded, “Internet and Intranet of the seven mountains’ museums, looking for clues about the other texts that Mr. Rutherford mentioned. Didn’t find much.”

  “I am not... surprised... but you have... a location in... mind that you... would like to... explore?”

  “I need to talk to Jacque about
Henry making his Wheel of Life, Grand-Mère if she’s still alive, she might know something and maybe Sgt. Polaris.” Sgt. Polaris was the detective that had been investigating her mother and her murderer. He knew a bit about the journal of ancient Sumerian text that her mother had bought at auction, a list of possessions that hadn’t been fully translated. This journal was one of the relics that the Neo-Phylum had stolen from the school’s museum when they attacked last year.

  Mr. Diefenderfer addressed Shana, “Papa a la Huancaína... and iced tea.” He noticed everyone looking at him. “Ah... that is a... salad from Peru... with a spicy... cheese sauce.” He held up the menu and pointed to where it read, ‘Special Requests Welcome’. “Mrs. Iglesias has... asked the staff... to challenge them... a bit.”

  Everyone else ordered and Mark noted, “There’s no one waiting to see me.”

  Salina explained, “I hope you don’t mind; I put the word out that oaths would be taken on the first Saturday of the month. I wanted to ask you about it first, but you’ve been so busy.”

  Mark didn’t know whether to be happy or mad. She should have asked him first about something so important, but, then again, it was good that she was showing initiative. Maybe she’d set an example for others. “Good job. That makes things easier.”

  Cap’n Ben chimed in, “People are beginning to ask about training; this is supposed to be an army, isn’t it? I can start a sort of boot camp if you like.”

  Mr. Young said, “I think we can let you use the Urban Warfare training grounds. I’ll have to check, but I don’t think there’ll be a problem.”

  Steve added, “I’ve got some experience in that area. Maybe I can help you set it up.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Mark said and looked around at the others.

  After a moment LeOmi said, “We’re eventually going to need some advanced weapons training. I’ll talk to Ms. Vanmie about how to start the ball rolling on that.”

  “I’ll look into air combat training possibilities,” Chenoa added.

  James held his hand up a little, “Logistics and transportation, I’ll look into that.”

  Jamal said, “An army travels on its stomach and you know me.”

  Salina said, “Record keeping, I’ll cover that.”

  After supper, Mark asked Mr. Diefenderfer in a whisper, “Can I see you and Mr. Young alone?”

  Mr. Diefenderfer whispered to Mr. Young and then nodded. “We need to... speak with LeOmi... as well.”

  Mr. Young led the group to Canoe Creek, the small waterway that meandered through the recreation area in the center of the mountain. He faced LeOmi and whispered, “Your Grand-Mère is alive and well. She’s working for us and is currently in New Zealand. Please don’t go looking for her and don’t let on that you know she’s alive. They don’t fully trust her yet since she let you get away. It took a lot of clever planning on her part to accomplish that feat by the way.”

  LeOmi looked flabbergasted, “She’s alive and working for you? How, when?”

  “Because your mother married that preacher, in her words, she began to see the Neo-Phylum for what they are. She didn’t let on, but she actually listened to your father when he lectured her.”

  Mr. Diefenderfer added, “There was no... deceit in her... words when we... spoke with her.”

  “Sadly, your mother didn’t listen to him.” Mr. Young continued. “Had she...” He didn’t finish what he could have said. It was obvious that LeOmi understood since Mark felt a wave of bitter sadness erupt inside him and then abruptly end.

  “Speaking with Jacque... is probably a... good idea since... he is likely... to open up... to you more... than he did... to us,” said Mr. Diefenderfer.

  “When you go to speak with him, take a number of people with you. You’ll be less of an easy target. We’ll go if we can,” said Mr. Young.

  “Now Mark... you were researching... cave art styles... to determine a... good location to... narrow your search... for that particular... cave. Am I not... correct?”

  “Yes sir, you’re correct.”

  Mr. Young said, “Good thinking. We already did that research though. Where you believe the art is Navajo, we believe it to be Hopi since the Hopi are much more inclined toward prophecy. That doesn’t rule out the possibility that it may indeed be Navajo. The styles are very similar.”

  “The name, Nine... whatever, is almost... assuredly a secret... name. Nine Eagles... Nine Horses... or the like. We are looking... for this person.”

  “He is, or was, without much doubt a Magi,” said Mr. Young, “which narrows our search somewhat, but there are quite a few Magi among both nations. We have done a Dream Cast, which of necessity had to be a bit vague, and it may be some time before we get a response, so we’re actively looking.”

  “Do you think Mr. Rutherford could help with that?”

  “Alas... Mr. Rutherford... poor soul, has... little memory for... faces. We already... explored that possibility.”

  “I doubt that he’d recognize his own face if he didn’t shave every morning,” chuckled Mr. Young. “He remembered you because of the staff.”

  LeOmi said, “It looks like going after the cave painting is a dead end right now so I’m going to talk to Jacque... tomorrow.”

  Mr. Young said, “We can go tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jacque be Quick

  After breakfast, the group Mark selected to go with LeOmi met on the front steps. The group was large, consisting of Mark’s core group, his mom and dad plus Mr. Young and Mr. Diefenderfer. Steve asked, “Are we going to name this squad?”

  “Squad?” LeOmi snapped. “You make it sound like we’re going into battle. I’m just going to visit a friend with some friends.”

  Steve rebutted, “Well, it is a squad and we are doing recon.”

  Jamal jested, “How about calling it The Fellowship of the Quest for a Shrubbery?”

  Chenoa caught the reference to Monty Python and said, “Ni.”

  Mr. Diefenderfer said, using a Mexican accent, “Names? We don’t need... no stinking names.” He sniffed the air and switched to a haughty British accent. “What’s in a... name? None of us... smell anything like... a rose. Quite the opposite... I should say.”

  Steve said, “Okay, enough... uncle already.”

  Mr. Young chuckled along with the others. He used Spirit Sight and reported, “It’s raining there, very light right now, but the ground is sopping wet. There are a few cars in the parking lot, no one around. It should be safe to remanifest there.”

  LeOmi said, “Parking lot? There’s a parking lot?”

  “Jacque has made a few improvements. Seems horseback riding is a popular tourist attraction.”

  “Tourist attraction? He didn’t!”

  “Yep, he did. The new owner gave him permission to run the place as he saw fit. Looks like he’s doing quite well.” He held out his arm to Shirley and Steve on one side, Mark and James on the other. “Shall we go?”

  Mr. Diefenderfer and LeOmi followed his lead. Instantly everyone remanifested onto the gravel parking lot near the side of a blue bus. The front corral had been transformed into a gravel parking area and there was a large carved sign over the barn door now clearly showing where visitors should enter. Mr. Young led the way as they all quick stepped to get out of the rain.

  Inside the barn was different now, too; it was clean for one thing. The horse stalls were still there on one side, but they were empty. There was a desk, complete with computer, by the entrance and various saddles and tack hung on racks along the walls. The place smelled heavily of leather now instead of smelling like stale hay.

  A voice called from the other end of the barn and a woman started walking toward them. “Hi there. The rain is supposed to quit by noon if you want to come back later.”

  LeOmi said, “Who’re you?”

  “I’m Kinta, the foreman around here. And who’re you?” The woman had a dark complexion and her dark hair was set in braids on either side of her head
.

  “LeOmi,” she looked around. “Where’s Jacque?”

  “Probably in Virginia by now; gone to look at some horses.” As she got closer she asked, “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to be that girl in those pictures, would you?”

  “You mean the ones in the house? That’s me.”

  “Jacque said that if you ever stopped by to treat you like his daughter. What can I do for you? Want to ride?” She offered her hand to LeOmi while looking at everyone else.

  LeOmi shook her hand and said, “Not really, just stopped by to see Jacque. You wouldn’t happen to know where in Virginia he is, would you?”

  She walked to the desk, picked up the phone and pressed a speed dial button. After a couple of minutes she said, “He’s not answering; must be out of cell range.” She used the computer mouse, looked at the screen and said, “Clarksville today, meeting a guy at the Purple Possum at noon; South Boston area tomorrow, two meetings, Paradise at noon and Cowboy’s Bar and Grill at five; Chatham, day after tomorrow at Rooster’s Place, noon; day after that, Danville—”

  “Thanks, you don’t have to do all that. When do you expect him back?”

  “About two weeks, three at the outside.”

  LeOmi said dismissively, “Thank you, you’ve been helpful. We’ll come back another time.” She turned and started walking away with the group following her.

  The woman’s voice called after them as they walked away. “I can call the Purple Possum and leave a message for him to call. You can wait in the house. I’ve got a nice pot of gumbo simmering. Be glad to fix you some. Got cornbread too.”

  LeOmi called back over her shoulder, “Thanks, maybe some other time.”

  As they were walking behind the bus, Shirley said to Steve, “The Purple Possum, isn’t that the little cafe just down from that curio shop?”

  “I think it’s the one right across from that hair stylist place, Tenaj’s.”

  “No that’s the Orange Cow, that sherbet ice cream place.”

  “What is it with people? Why can’t they use normal business names? Next thing you know there’s going to be a Pistachio Pig or Chartreuse Chicken. The town’ll have to change its name to Clark’s Crayons.”