The Seventh Mountain

by Gene Curtis

  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 e
erie 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 t
he 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 g
uy 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.”