by Curtis, Gene
Habeas Grob stepped forward, raised his arm in salute and said, “I am Habeas Grob, leader of these warriors. We are travelers from the east seeking that which must come to pass.”
A long moment passed before Hania said, “Let the chosen one step forward.” His warriors all shifted their aim to Mark when he began walking.
Mr. Grob motioned for Mark to step up beside him. When Mark was by his side, Hania signaled and every arrow launched toward him. In a blur Mark sidestepped the arrows and was immediately next to the chief warrior with his sword at his throat. Maode Maharaw, the ability to move very fast. Mark had experienced it last year when he was attacked by thralls. It was another of his inborn abilities, but it was one he had no idea how to consciously control.
Hania dropped to his knees. Mark grabbed the chief’s hair, pulled his head back and yelled at the other warriors, “Drop your weapons or he dies!” Every weapon fell to the ground. How can this be right? They tried to kill me!
Hania said, “My life is yours young warrior.”
“Why did you try to kill me? I’ve done nothing to you!”
“The Great Spirit saved you as the prophecy said. You are the chosen one.”
“I’m the chosen one? Chosen for what?”
“Chosen to light the Eighth Fire.”
“What is this Eighth Fire?”
“Seven prophets of long ago told of the future for The People. There would come seven fires which represent seven ages, with each fire having specific things that would happen. All have come to pass. At the end of The Seventh Fire would come a young prophet, a warrior that would light The Eighth Fire and herald the dawn of a new age. It would be an age of hope or destruction depending on the path The People chose. The Seventh Fire ended last night.
“The way of the spirit and a remembrance of the Original Instructions, the way of the Great Spirit, is the path of hope. Mankind must travel back along the path he has taken over the years and recover knowledge of those things discarded along the way. This is the path to brotherhood and harmony. To continue on the path of the mind is the path of discord and destruction.
“We have known of you for more than a year now and believed you may be the chosen one. Yet only by a test, even to the death, were we able to be sure. Only when we were sure could we allow you to pass into the maze for to fail in the quest laid therein is to doom mankind to destruction. Only your success opens the path of hope. My life is a small price to pay for that hope, as was yours if you were not the chosen one.”
Mark released the warrior’s hair and put away his sword. “What if this quest isn’t mine?”
“The quest is yours, young warrior, for all has come to pass except one thing as spoken by the prophets. Your path begins in that cave.” Hania pointed but Mark saw no cave. “There is yet one more test.”
Hania looked skyward and raised his voice, “I call for the prophecy bearers.”
All eyes searched the two groups while seven people stepped forward; among them Si Day and his daughter Chenoa. The group of seven stood before Mark. Hania stepped up and made the eighth.
Hania began, “For more than two thousand years the prophecy of the warrior that would light The Eighth Fire has been passed from generation to generation in two families.”
Si continued when Hania paused, “We know you bear the cane of the Great Spirit and in that cave stand the Column of Destiny and the Column of Keeping.” He leaned toward Chenoa and started whispering.
Another of the seven said, “There is written on the cane of the Great Spirit words not of any language of this world that will be read by a gifted one.”
Yet another said, “We will understand the truth of these words and The Eighth Fire will light upon the Column of Destiny.”
Another voice said, “And for as long as The Eighth Fire burns there remains hope.”
“The Column of Keeping will open and the cane of the Great Spirit will once again be complete,” said the next speaker.
“You will know you are the chosen one when these things come to pass for will light for none other,” said the next voice.
Chenoa continued, “You will pass through seven deaths to find what you seek and back again through the seven deaths to deliver what you find.”
Hania ended, “With your success there remains hope. If you fail there is no hope; destruction is certain.”
The group followed Hania to the opening of the cave. It had been hidden from view from where they stood due to their angle of observation. When they entered Hania looked around and said, “I’m not afraid. How do you feel, young warrior?”
“I’m not afraid either if that’s what you mean.”
In the cave Habeas Grob walked up to the two columns with Mark at his side. Mr. Grob held out his hand and Mark handed the staff to him. He in turn motioned for another Magi to step forward. Mr. Grob handed the staff to the hooded figure who then examined the writing on the staff and began to read.
“The One True God is my keeper.
My needs are satisfied–”
Mark recognized the voice, “Cap’n Ben?”
Mr. Grob placed his hand on Mark’s shoulder and Cap’n Ben looked back down and continued to read.
“He lets me rest in abundant fields, and drink from quiet waters.
He brings back my strength and shows me the right way to go to honor Him.
I may journey to deadly places, but I am not afraid for He is with me.
His pole and cane protect me.”
Immediately there was a mild earth tremor followed by a soft hissing sound. A bright flame burst into life atop the column to Mark’s right. Mark heard Chenoa off to the side whisper to her father, “I knew he was the one!”
Hania walked up, put both hands on top of the other column and gave it a stiff twist. The top came off in his hands.
Si had followed Hania. He reached in and removed a pole, the obvious mate to the staff, from the interior of the column, looked at it, smiled and handed it to Mark. Cap’n Ben handed the staff back to Mark. Mark remembered how the top had come off in the banker’s office last year. He joined the new piece to the bottom of the staff to form a single staff about eight feet tall.
The bottom ten inches or so of the staff were shod with some sort of metal presumably to prevent wear when using it as a walking stick. The blue spirals and brass colored bands on the lower part matched the upper part. Mark held the staff over his head for everyone to see.
Hania stepped up in front of Mark and said, “Many prophecy bearers have longed for and dreaded this very day. Much is at stake.
“You will travel deep within the Earth where you cannot be tracked. Where you go now, none can follow. Evil cannot enter here. Your journey is treacherous and all that is known about it is that you will face seven deaths: rot, blood, insects, poison, breath, fire and freezing.”
He handed Mark a feather. “This is the feather I took from the eagle to prove myself as a warrior. I prize it above all my possessions and I give it to you now in hope that you will find strength when you need strength, wisdom when you need wisdom, speed when you need speed and courage when you need courage. Most of all let it remind you to always walk in the way of the Great Spirit.”
Mark took the feather and nodded.
Mr. Day stepped up and handed Mark a flint knife with a crystal handle, bound with leather and inlaid with turquoise and silver. “After Xocotli told of your coming my ancestor made this for you. It has been passed from firstborn to firstborn in my family for more than two thousand years. It is my honor to present it to you and to let you know that more than a hundred generations of faith go with you. May the hand of the One True God guide and protect you.”
Mark took the knife, looked down and said, “Thank you, Mr. Day.”
It took half an hour for the support team to set up the tables and equipment— radios and computers mostly— in the large room. Mr. Grob motioned and Mark was handed a canvas bag. Mr. Grob raised his hand and said, “A quest begins with th
e first step.”
Mark put on the radio headset and spoke into the mike. “Is it working?”
A voice in the earpiece said, “It’s working.”
He put the staff, knife and feather into Aaron’s Grasp and hoisted the strap of the duffel bag onto his shoulder. He turned to look at the crowd before heading off deeper into the cave.
So many things had happened in the last two years and he had hardly taken the time to think about them. Everything from the first dreams to rescuing those trapped in the labyrinths had just been the right thing to do. This quest was different. There was much more at stake.
On the one hand he knew retrieving the power source for the sunstone was very important in the efforts to prevent Benrah from taking over the world or ousting him once he had. On the other hand he knew that if he didn’t destroy or turn over to Benrah what he found here that Benrah was very likely to carry out his threat and destroy everything he ever held dear.
The only way he saw that he could circumvent Benrah was to become incapable of completing the quest and that wasn’t likely to happen without some help. Then again, by doing that Benrah would win since the sunstone couldn’t be activated without the power source. His only choice was to recover the power source and let destiny take its course.
A voice in the radio headset said, “Check in.”
It was the first of the planned ten minute status checks. Mark said, “Loud and clear. I’m still not feeling any fear.” He glanced back and could see the silhouettes of some people still staring after him. He also noticed that the walls were getting closer together. He held his lantern over his head and waved it back and forth wishing he didn’t have to do this alone. It would be a lot better if his friends could come with him. He turned back around and started walking again. Two hours later he came to his first challenge.
He spoke into the voice operated mike, “I’m at the pit.”
The answer came, “You are at the pit. Your signal is starting to fade a little. Mr. Giancoli’s repeater must have failed. Set out another repeater and switch your transmitter to channel two.”
The radio signal repeaters were small devices designed to retransmit a signal received on a particular frequency. It effectively doubled the range of Mark’s radio which wasn’t very far underground. Using repeaters at intervals was supposed to allow him to stay in touch with the crew waiting back at the entrance. He set out one of the small devices, switched to channel two and said, “Can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear.”
He turned his attention to the next task and couldn’t see the other side of the pit regardless of where he held the lantern. He searched along the wall and found a fist sized rock on the ground. He went back to the pit and tried to throw it across. About four seconds passed before he heard it bounce off the far wall of the pit. He never heard it hit bottom.
He found the rope that Mr. Giancoli had used and following it back saw it was tied off to a large piton driven firmly into the rock floor. He pulled the rope up and estimated it was about five hundred feet long. He tied the lantern to the end of the rope and lowered it into the hole. The sides of the pit weren’t straight. They began sloping away about one hundred feet down. At the full length of the rope he couldn’t see the lantern’s light anymore.
After pulling the lantern back up he removed it, took the climbing harness out of the duffel bag and tied the duffel bag to the end of the rope. He lowered the bag, cinched up his climbing harness and said, “I’m going in.”
The voice in the ear piece said, “I don’t need to remind you that this is near where we lost contact with Mr. Giancoli.”
“I’ll be careful.”
He wasn’t more than a few feet down when he noticed the peculiar, unpleasant smell of the pit was getting stronger. “Did Mr. Giancoli mention anything about an odd smell in the pit?”
“Hold on, I’ll check.” A few moments later the earpiece voice said, “Nothing was mentioned about a smell.”
“Well, there’s a bad smell in here and it’s getting stronger.” Mark locked his descender on the rope and looked around. There was nothing of note on the stone walls. He continued his descent.
At the end of the rope the slope of the walls had changed quite a bit. He thought that Mr. Giancoli had tried to walk from this point on. “I’m at the end of the first rope. I’m attaching my other rope. I don’t want to take any chances.”
“Sounds like a good idea and set out another repeater, your signal strength is starting to fade a bit.”
The slope didn’t change over the next five hundred feet. “That’s it on the rope. I’m going to try walking from here.”
“Roger. Your signal strength is still good. Take it slow and easy.”
It wasn’t five steps before Mark stepped on something slippery. He lost his balance, fell backwards onto the duffel bag and started sliding fast. The slide came to an end when he went over a ledge and plopped into some kind of thick gooey mess.
He tried to swim to the surface but it was like being caught in cottage cheese. He retrieved an oxy-cap and put it in his mouth. The taste of the muck was unbelievably horrid, but at least he could breathe. After several minutes of struggling he decided to use the staff to see if he could touch bottom. It worked. He was able to push himself to the surface. He didn’t start sinking when he brought the staff up.
He had just finished wiping his face the best he could when something splashed into the muck just in front of his face; something small, alive and frantic. A moment later, before he could react it clawed itself up over his face and onto his head. He recognized the frenzied scrambling and cries of a rat.
As he felt around for the lantern that was clipped to his climbing harness he felt the rat dig its claws into his scalp to retain its purchase. He brought the lantern up and wiped some of the muck from the glass. It was still working and he could see the duffel bag just off to his left. The rat jumped to it.
He felt for the mike and it was still there. He adjusted it and said, “I just fell into some kind of muck. I think it’s where that smell is coming from.”
No answer.
“Hello!” He tapped the earpiece. “Hello! Is this thing working?”
Still no answer.
This is probably why they lost contact with Mr. Giancoli. I made it to the surface so he probably did too. I float, if you can call it that, so he might have been able to make it this far. If he did, how’d he get out?
Mark wiped more of the muck from the lantern and started looking around. He was able to maneuver himself to different areas by using the staff. The ledge he fell from looked about fifteen feet up and the ledge on the other side was a little higher. There was no way he could reach either with the staff. About the only thing he could think to do was use some of the pitons he brought to form makeshift footholds in order to climb out.
He went to what looked to be the best spot and looked up the wall. There were pitons already there, except it was obvious from the small broken holes in the wall that the first two pitons had given way. He hammered in replacements and climbed out with the lantern and duffel bag, complete with rat, clipped to the back of his harness. The rat leapt to the ledge and scurried off when they reached the top.
Mark leaned back over the duffel bag, took the headset off and examined it. It looked unbroken when he got most of the muck off. “Hello. Hello. Can you hear me?”
“I hear you.” The voice didn’t come from the headset. It came from the top of the first pit area on the other side of the muck and sounded like Mr. Day yelling. The tunnel must have been carrying his voice.
Mark shouted back, “Mr. Day, is that you?”
“Yes. Are you uninjured?”
“A few scratches, that’s all. And I’m covered with muck.”
“Is it guano?”
“I don’t know what guano is, but this stuff sure stinks.”
“Bat droppings. I smell it and if it got in an open wound, you’d better disinfect it pretty quick. What’s you
r situation?”
Mark pulled the disinfectant out of the rescue kit and a bottle of water from the bag. “I’m on the other side of another pit that is filled with guano. The radio isn’t working. I know Mr. Giancoli made it this far. I used his pitons to climb out.”
“I think I can stand being in here long enough to get you my headset. The closer I am to you, there is less fear. Can you estimate how far you slid when you fell?”
“I guess I slid about a thousand feet before the ledge.”
A moment passed before Mr. Day said, “I’ve got extra rope coming. It’s going to take a while before we can get to you. The fear came back when you left and it takes a strong will to follow you in here. The fear started to subside little by little as I got closer to you. Can you estimate how far it is from ledge to ledge across the guano pit?”
“I can’t see the other side, but I know it’s more than a hundred yards.”
“That sounds like we can set up a rope bridge. That’ll also make it easier for you to get back out.”
“That’d be great. I don’t really want to have to go through that stuff again.” He reached into Aaron’s Grasp and took out his communicator ring. “If Chenoa is still here, can you ask her to put on her ring?”
“Her ring?”
“Yes sir. She’ll know what you mean.”
“Hold on.” A few minutes later Mr. Day said, “I’m heading out now. Someone is coming in to reset the repeaters to the ring’s frequencies. That might take a couple of hours.”
“I understand.”
It only took about an hour before he heard Chenoa’s voice. “Testing, testing. Is it working?”
Another voice said, “Loud and clear. Mark can you hear us?”
“I hear you loud and clear.”
“Great. You need to reset the frequencies on the rest of the repeaters.”
Mark was given instructions on how to do that and a half hour later said, “Okay. They’re all reset.”
“All right, we’ll check on you every ten minutes, same as before.”
The only way off the ledge was to climb up about six feet and then in between two horizontal, parallel rock faces about a foot and a half apart. It was slow going since the layers weren’t separated enough to allow him to do anything except belly crawl. The area between the two slabs was so vast it was impossible to tell which way to go.
