Eighth Fire

by Curtis, Gene

  “What else are we learning while we’re asleep?”

  “That depends on your level of experience and any special courses you’re taking. For instance, this year the first part of your Communications class will be taught when you’re just waking up to take advantage of that time when there’s a natural link between your spirit and your mind. That’s for the lessons in Rooack Mareh or Spirit Sight.”

  Jamal walked out followed by Chenoa and Nick. A moment later the rest of Mr. Foran’s group walked out.

  Nick walked up to Mr. Foran and said, “My brother told me about this place. Is it true that all the Magi from The Seventh Mountain are buried here?”

  Mr. Foran smiled and then chuckled. “I certainly hope not! If that were true, I’d be in one heck of a pickle!” A few students standing behind Mr. Foran tittered.

  He grinned at Jamal and it took a second for Jamal to catch on. Jamal said, “You know what I mean.”

  “Of course I know what you mean.” He put his hand on Jamal’s shoulder. “Not all those buried here are Magi, and not all Magi of The Seventh Mountain are buried here when they die. That is a prerequisite you know. You have to be dead first.” He chuckled again.

  “This place is where we honor those that died while in the service of The Seventh Mountain, and not just Magi either. We honor anyone that died in the service of The Seventh Mountain. And all markers don’t necessarily have a body buried under them either. Take for instance Don Diego Sanchez, better known as Zorro.” He made three slashing motions with his arm like he was carving the letter “Z” with a rapier. “Diego was on a mission and just happened to be passing through a village in southern California when he heard the cries of a damsel emanating from a second story window. He rode his horse to the edge of the building’s porch, climbed to the porch roof and quickly went to the open window. Inside he saw a fat old man trying to take liberties upon a fair young maiden. Diego’s sword of choice was a rapier which he used to swat the man across the back three times. The man was moving and unfortunately a crude “Z” was formed by the red welt marks the sword left. The man fled and as Diego was climbing back down to his horse the young maiden called after him to know who he was. He called back to her, ‘I am but a man that follows the teachings of Zoroaster.’ Zoroaster was the founder of the original Magi if you didn’t know. All the damsel caught of what he said was Zorro something or other and hence, the legend of Zorro was born…

  “He’s not buried here, but we honor him since he was in the service of The Seventh Mountain when he died in 1963, and that is but one of his many deeds.”

  Somebody in the back said, “I thought Zorro was Don Diego Vega.” Someone else said, “No, Zorro was Joaquin Murrieta.”

  Mr. Foran said, “No need to get twisted about it. You’re both right, in a way. The young maiden happened to be Rosa Murrieta, wife of Joaquin Murrieta and the old fat guy was none other than the corrupt head honcho of that little town and also the cousin of the governor of California.

  “He sent a bunch of drunken thugs after Joaquin for the assault, thinking Joaquin to be this Zorro character, only they brought back Joaquin’s brother. Seeing how they got the wrong man, they accused the brother of some heinous crime and hung him anyway. Then he formed another group to go after that Zorro something or other fellow, Joaquin. They brought Joaquin back and the honcho saw it wasn’t the right man so he accused him of stealing a mule and had him horse whipped. Rosa, Joaquin’s wife didn’t fare well at the hands of the honcho either, or his gang of henchmen. She was later thrown, badly beaten into the also badly beaten Joaquin’s arms where she died. Joaquin swore revenge for his wife and his brother.

  “Don Diego Sanchez was well out of town when all of this happened and had no idea anything like this would have happened. He thought the old fat guy would have gotten out of town as fast as he could after being caught and humiliated like that. It wasn’t until three months later when he returned that he heard the story.

  “By then Joaquin had essentially declared war against California, but only after tracking down and killing the men responsible for his wife and brother’s deaths. Diego was able to track down Joaquin and apologize for not realizing he needed to stick around a bit longer. Joaquin would have none of it and continued on his rampage.

  “Diego saw the need for someone to be there to right injustices and he stayed three years while he trained a young apprentice in sword fighting. The apprentice took the name Don Diego de la Costa and was fictionalized by Johnston McCulley as Don Diego Vega, the Zorro of legend. Don Diego Sanchez is the one whose grave is here.”

  The last day of Orientation was for socializing and just plain having fun until it was time for the first assembly of the year. Students were required to wear tribe colors and stay within the confines of the school until five p.m. when the assembly started.

  It was obvious that Chenoa had been practicing at dueling pinball and Mark had a hard time beating her. In fact he had lost the first three games of the eight they had played. LeOmi beat Jamal and Nick at darts without much effort, but billiards seemed to be Nick’s game. He beat anyone that challenged him.

  Mark’s group walked into The Oasis a few minutes ahead of most students and they saw James standing just inside. James quickly walked over to the group and said, “Finally. You guys are hard to find.”

  LeOmi said, “What’d you expect? Why didn’t you try our dorm?”

  “I did, only I couldn’t get in.”

  “Why not?”

  “Listen, it doesn’t matter. I just need to talk to Mark.”

  Mark said, “Is it about what I think it’s about?”

  “Yeah. Should I tell or not?”

  “That’s up to you, but people are going to find out sooner or later.”

  “That’s what I thought you’d say, but it makes people treat you different.”

  “Yeah, but if you were born with six toes it wouldn’t be any different. You’d still be who you are, no matter what.”

  “I see what you mean. I’m going to make it public. I’ll see you after the assembly.”

  LeOmi started following James as he walked off. She called to James, “Hold up. I’m coming with you.”

  LeOmi rejoined the group just as they were sitting down. Mark said, “Did you do what I think you did?”

  LeOmi said, “You’re right. It doesn’t change who I am.”

  Chenoa leaned across the table. “What are you talking about?”

  Mark looked at Chenoa and paused a moment before saying, “My brother was pre-chosen; Agate Tribe.”

  Mr. Johan Müeller, head of the Engineering Section, approached the lectern that was standing in the middle of the stage, picked up a gavel and looked over the crowd of students. Just as the gavel sounded the third time, LeOmi said, “So was I.”

  Jamal, Chenoa and Nick turned and stared at her. A moment later all three chorused, “What?”

  The gavel sounded again and Mr. Müeller said, “I know this is a bit unusual, but if I may have your attention please, I’ll explain what’s going on, but first I need to do the standard opening announcements.

  “The method of tuition payment that you intend to use is to be made known to your counselor prior to September 28th. 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.

  “If you haven’t already done so, get a copy of the school course catalogue from the bookstore as the current school rules are in the back. You’ll probably want to refer to it now and again.

  “There has been no change to the tradition that the tribe with the highest total combined scores has the tuition waived for all students in that tribe and any student in that tribe can elect not to take their final exams.

  “There is now in place a twenty-four hour guard in the museum to help prevent any of the unfortunate events that occurred last year concerning the labyrinth.

  “School grounds, at night, are off l
imits to all students that have not yet developed Rooack Mareh or are not accompanied by an instructor or school staff and it is generally unwise to approach anything that could cause serious bodily harm should it sit on you. The leviathans in the waters at this school do occasionally walk about on dry land. Should you happen to see one, do not approach it and for heaven’s sake, don’t try to feed one.

  “Now for a bit of levity. A few of you got to experience the practical joke perpetrated on Mark Young, Chenoa Day, Nikola Poparov and Jamal Terfa, and for those of you that didn’t, you can thank your stars. Over the summer Bruce Spencer was able to devise a handheld rotating helical vortex generator with a range of more than two hundred feet; a world record for its size. I looked it up. Most of you probably don’t know what a rotating helical vortex is, but I’m sure you’ve seen or heard of a smoke ring. A vortex doesn’t have to be composed of smoke; it’s just that smoke makes them readily visible. Mr. Spencer used an anesthetizing aerosol to create a “sleep line” as-it-were. After the foursome fell asleep, he super glued their pinkies inside their noses thus preventing them from smelling the concentrated skunk scent that was later applied to their backs and gathered a crowd to witness their entrance into the mall. He was awarded ten points for each of the group and for each of the four phases of the prank for a total of one hundred sixty points.”

  Applause sounded from every table except Mark’s.

  “That same device was also used to put Mark to sleep so Ralph Lawrence could dye his ears green. No points were awarded since that practical joke wasn’t original, but it was still funny.” A smattering of laughter sounded.

  Mr. Müeller pounded the gavel again. “Another noteworthy event is that James Young, Mark Young’s brother was pre-chosen by an Agate Tribe horse. On that same note, LeOmi Jones has given her consent to announce that she was pre-chosen last year by an Emerald Tribe horse. That brings the total of pre-chosen students to seven, I believe.”

  Someone off to the side said something. He looked around at who had spoken and then turned back to the microphone. “I’ve been corrected. The total stands at six.

  “Last year’s second flags match between Ruby, Emerald, Diamond and Agate Tribes sparked an official ruling from Omar’s Panel of Judges. They ruled that Emerald Tribe unintentionally fielded thirteen horses during the play for the final flag of the match. Normally fielding too many horses during a play disqualifies the guilty team from the match, but as the fielding was unintentional and didn’t involve the flag in play, only the bonus flag was disqualified. Fortunately, this ruling didn’t change tribe standings.

  “Now for the information I see you’re all curious about. Succinctly, the Council of Elders is away on a mission to recover the device that powers the sunstone. This came about as a matter of necessity; as the only perceived way to circumvent the designs of Benrah.

  “We have come into possession of this sunstone at what we believe to be a crucial point in history. Some of you have noted the similarity of the shape of the sunstone on its pedestal with the shape of the symbol for The Seventh Mountain. For you freshmen, that’s the symbol on your blazon. We suspect this is no coincidence.

  “After much study, a pedestal was constructed based on the drawings on the back of the sunstone and the sunstone was placed there. From our imaging of the interior of the sunstone we know that it is some kind of device, a machine if you will, but we have no idea what it does or exactly what kind of power source it requires in order to function properly.

  “The Council of Elders was able to deduce the most probable location of this power source and mounted an expedition to recover it. It is my sad duty to inform you now that this expedition has failed. A Magi, a beloved colleague and member of the Council of Elders of The Seventh Mountain has been killed.

  “The funeral for Mr. David Giancoli will begin tomorrow at sunrise. You are all welcome to attend. Your counselors will give you instructions for attending a Magi funeral and any more information you may require.”

  Dawn edged over the distant horizon while the still chill morning air stung the tip of Mark’s nose. He didn’t notice that his foggy breath lingered a moment longer than usual before vanishing. His attention was focused on the engraving on the stone marker he was kneeling to examine and the feeling that he’d been here before. He thought, I should know this place. I must have dreamed about it, only I can’t remember.

  A distant mournful lament caught his attention. He stood and pulled his hood back in order to better hear. The funeral service was starting with the traditional singing of an ancient Persian song, a song that had been sung at every Magi funeral for more than three thousand years. It almost sounded like someone wailing.

  A few minutes passed before a cloaked and hooded Mrs. Shadowitz stepped onto the portable raised platform. “The flesh lives but a short time, yet the spirit is eternal. And in both, by our deeds are we distinguished. For it is by our deeds that we aid and comfort those in need; it is by our deeds that our power to serve the One True God grows. It is our service… our deeds… that make us Magi.

  “David William Giancoli was a Magi of many accomplishments and deeds in the service of The Seventh Mountain. It is by his deeds that he will always be remembered.”

  She stepped down from the platform and another hooded figure stepped up. Mr. Thorpe’s voice was thunderous. “David William Giancoli, seventh seat on the Council of Elders risked his life willingly that others would be spared. There is no more noble undertaking than this.”

  Mr. Thorpe stepped down and another figure stepped up, offered a single tribute and stepped down. This process continued for the next several hours with Magi from all of the seven mountains offering acknowledgment and esteem. Even Habeas Grob, High Elder of The First Mountain spoke.

  Mrs. Shadowitz took the platform again. “David William Giancoli, you will be remembered with honor. We can but console ourselves with the certain hope of meeting again.” When she stepped down the crowd started to disperse and a moment later Mark heard the mournful lament resume from the four corners of the graveyard: north, east, south and west.

  He walked to Mr. Giancoli’s marker, knelt and rubbed his fingers across the inscription: David William Giancoli – 10,015,372. He noted that the grass seemed undisturbed and thought the grave diggers must have painstakingly laid it back in place.

  Shana walked up behind him and must have picked up his thoughts. “Mr. Giancoli’s body is not buried here; it was never recovered.”

  “What do you mean it was never recovered?”

  Mrs. Shadowitz, Mr. Diefenderfer and Mr. Young walked up too. Mrs. Shadowitz placed her hand on Mark’s shoulder and said, “Walk with us please,” and started heading deeper into the cemetery.

  After they were a good ways from the crowd of mourners she said, “The place where Mr. Giancoli died is guarded by a powerful spirit of fear. All that enter there are gripped to their very being by a most urgent feeling of dread and an almost unquenchable need to flee that place. The deeper in one goes, the stronger the feeling of fear becomes.

  “We believe that is why Mr. Giancoli died. He had faced many traps in his archeological explorations in the past. He was an expert at detecting traps. That can be the only explanation why he didn’t spot it.”

  That was a bombshell and a half. Mark had suspected that the expedition there was to keep him from having to go after the power source to the sunstone and then having to decide whether to destroy it or not—if he recovered it. Plus, he wasn’t even sure they had located the right place or he was the one that was supposed to go after it. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure of anything related to this at all.

  “How did you know where to look?”

  Mr. Young chose to answer. “The details are long and complicated, but we were able to gather enough information to be reasonably sure we were on the right track. We found a cave being guarded by several Native Americans. We slipped past them and got into the cave. Inside it looked just like the main painting in the Great Ga
llery. There was a consensus among us that the main character in the main painting looked a lot like High Elder Habeas Grob. That told us this place was significant to this time in history. There was no way to know for sure this place was where the power source was hidden, but we knew it was significant.

  “You were the one having the dreams about the power source, so that meant you and the power source were significant to this time and place too. Benrah wants you to destroy or turn over to him what you find this year, so this year is significant.

  “If it happened that someone else recovered this item, then Benrah’s threat would be null and void. We had to try, you understand.”

  Mark knew there was another answer. “What if I just don’t go after it?”

  Mrs. Shadowitz answered. “We considered that possibility, but our understanding of destiny tells us that events will conspire to put you on a path whereby you must fulfill your destiny. And yes, we are reasonably sure this is part of your destiny. If you choose not to pursue it, consequences are likely to become dire indeed.”

  “How can I be sure this is part of my destiny?”

  “There is no way to be certain until you take the journey.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Quest

  The start of classes were postponed a week to allow a large portion of the staff to provide support for Mark. A troop of more than a thousand armed Native American warriors stood in front of the entrance to the maze when the expedition from The Seventh Mountain began arriving not more than twenty yards away. Many warriors drew their bows and took aim at the Magi; others held lances at the ready. How they knew to be there at this time was anyone’s guess. The previous team had encountered only a handful of them.

  Each Magi drew his sword on seeing the threat except for Habeas Grob.

  One warrior spoke. “I am Hania, chief of these warriors. Leave or die.”