Eighth Fire (16 page)

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 limits 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 Gallery. 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.”

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!