The Seventh Mountain (24 page)

“What you got there?” Mark was eying what
Jamal was eating.

“It’s some kind of meat on a stick. It’s
good. Do you want to try it?”

“No thanks. I have a steak and egg sandwich.
What do you have, Nick.”

“Peppered noodles with beef and mutton. It’s
spicy, but it’s good.”

Chenoa volunteered, “Rice with milk and a
touch of honey.”

They walked while they ate. They passed Ms.
Vanmie’s tent. She had some of her wares set up and was
demonstrating the proper use of a dagger to a student whom Mark
hadn’t met. When she was finished, Mark approached her.

“Ms. Vanmie, Tim was telling me about the
game of assassins. I think that I’d like to play.”

“Tim is a fine one to be telling you about
that. Did he also tell you that he is the only one who has ever
been able to mark me?”

“You’re kidding. No ma’am. He didn’t say a
word about that. He did say that no one has ever been able to tag
him.”

“Well, that’s true, too.”

“How was he able to mark you?”

“I assure you, it was quite by accident. I
do the first tag on new players. I was sneaking up behind him in
his art class. I wanted him to see me before I tagged him. I had
the tag in the bag, so I thought. I was too relaxed and
overconfident. He was trying to do some abstract art with felt tip
pens. He made a flamboyant sweep across the paper with a pen, from
top to bottom. His sweeping follow through ended with the pen
touching me on the forehead, right between the eyes. It took a week
for me to get that mark off. He’s used a red felt tip pen ever
since then.”

“He said that he always used a red marker.
He didn’t say why.”

“Well, now you know. You’re now a player. If
you want to go after someone, just come by my office and I’ll
assign you a target. Say, are you going to enter the sword fighting
competition?”

“I hadn’t planned to.”

Mark didn’t really want to think about it,
but he felt like he was almost the worst student in his combat
class. He had to practice long and hard just to keep up with the
exercises and get them right. Nick had been the only one that he
had sparred with in class. Nick always managed to beat him.

Then there were both Slone and that
spiked-haired girl. He didn’t think that there could be a freshman
better that either one of them. They were so graceful, fast and
accurate. He knew that he could never be their equal with
swords.

“If you change your mind, here is a piece of
advice. Freshmen always try to win quick. That’s a mistake. Just
concentrate on keeping your opponent from hitting you. It’s pretty
easy to defend if you’re not trying to work in a strike at the same
time. Wait until your opponent is tired and starts to make
mistakes. Look for a pattern in their mistakes and exploit it.”

“Do they use riotous or swords?”

“Of course they use riotous. If they allowed
swords, the healing ward would be full of students getting their
limbs reattached.”

“I’ll think about it. Thank you, Ms.
Vanmie.”

The group split up and headed their separate
ways. Mark took out his map and found his way to the archery
competition. The archers had already started. The event was the
three hundred yard bull’s eye, three arrows.

The announcer called out. “Sixty seconds for
three shots. Highest score takes the trophy… Ready on the firing
line.” Two-dozen or more archers drew their bows and took aim at
their individual targets down range.

“Begin!”

A flight of arrows sizzled, arching toward
their targets. Mark used his binoculars to examine the targets.
Every arrow was in the black bull’s eye. The bull’s eye couldn’t
have been larger than a quarter. The archers reloaded and fired
another flight. All but one arrow missed the bull’s eye. They were
close but they didn’t cut the black. The arrow that was in the
bull’s eye had shaved one feather off of the previous arrow. The
third flight flew. Every single arrow struck black. One arrow Robin
Hooded the first arrow. That was on the target that had all three
arrows in the black.

A judge walked the line of the targets. He
went back and held up the winning target. “This year’s winner, as
if it’s a surprise, Harmonious Thorpe.” Mr. Thorpe raised his bow
over his head in triumph.

Mark decided to go and watch the sword
fighting competition. He was walking away from the archery area
when he heard the announcer say, “Next event in ten minutes. Clay
pigeons. Last minute entries can sign up now.”

Mark thought that he might like to see that.
He turned and started to go back when he saw Ms. Vanmie coming
toward him. She had something in her hand. It was a water balloon.
She gave it a heave. Mark dodged it and red dye splattered the
sand.

“Don’t forget, you’re a player now.” She
waved and smiled before she trotted off.

Mark knew then that he needed to come up
with a way to tag her before she tagged him. He knew that he was
going to have to be sneaky.

Mark watched the skeet competition. It
wasn’t much of a contest. Mr. Thorpe won that as well.

At the sword fighting competition, it was a
laugh to watch the bouts until LeOmi, the spike haired girl, took
to the mat. Ralph Lawrence would be her opponent. He had won the
last competition.

LeOmi Jones beat Ralph Lawrence easily.
Ralph had been losing weight since he had been at school. Still, he
was no match for the swift and agile LeOmi Jones. Several other
contestants challenged her and were trounced.

Keith Richards walked up on the mat to
challenge her. He didn’t look so much like a garden gnome anymore.
They squared off. The instructor said, “Begin!”

LeOmi turned slowly to face her opponent; he
was trying to circle her. She held her two-handed riotous with the
tip just below her eye level. She stamped her forward foot and
feigned a lunge. Keith jumped back a step and realized that her
attack was contrived. Keith rushed forward. He was obviously using
the
Knight’s Ruse Attack
. This consisted of three or four
attempted blows to the head area, forcing the opponent into
repetitive motion, followed by starting for a blow to the head,
diverting it down to the legs, followed by a spin and blow to the
other leg or torso.

Mark counted the blows as they came, one,
two, three, four, down, spin… LeOmi was ready for it. She blocked
the first five blows and jumped to avoid the final blow while
bringing her riotous down across Keith’s right shoulder.

The instructor called, “Hold!” He walked
over to LeOmi and raised her arm up. “Winner! LeOmi Jones!”

Slone Voif walked up onto the mat. “I think
it’s time that I paid you back for that nose bleed you gave
me.”

LeOmi was a little bit out of breath. She
had just won nine straight fights, back to back. “So, you’ve been
practicing falling down and getting up, have you?”

The opponents started to square off. Mark
called out, “She’s tired. Can she take a break?”

The instructor called back, “That’s up to
her.” He looked at LeOmi.

LeOmi confronted Slone. “I’m okay. Let’s do
this!”

“Very well… Begin!”

Slone began with a flurry of side blows and
reverse blows. LeOmi proved adept at blocking them. Slone stopped
and LeOmi advanced with a series of blows that Mark had never seen
before. It was obvious that she had been doing some advanced study.
Her attack relented and Slone advanced. This back and forth, give
and take, lasted for more than five minutes. Slone capitalized on
an opportunity and managed to trip LeOmi. Slone jabbed her in the
ribs when she lost her balance.

“Hold!” The instructor walked up to Slone
and raised his arm. “Winner! Slone Voif.”

LeOmi walked off the mat, holding her
ribs.

Mark went over to her. “Are you all
right?”

“Yeah… I’m fine. It’s just a bruise.”

“You’re the best freshman fighter that I’ve
seen yet. I’m glad that I don’t have to fight you. I bet you’d have
won if you weren’t so tired.”

“I am going to win. I’m not going to let him
win.”

The instructor called, “Are there any
freshmen challengers for Slone Voif?”

“You’re too tired to fight him now. At least
let him take another challenger, first.”

“All right. I guess you’re right. I do need
to catch my breath.”

The instructor called again. “We need a
challenger for Slone Voif, current champion.”

“It doesn’t look like anyone is going to
challenge him.”

“Give it a minute. I can’t think of anyone
who wants him to win the trophy, except those cohorts of his.”

“Last call for a challenger for Slone Voif.
If no one challenges him, he wins the title by default. I’ll give
it to the count of ten… One…”

LeOmi started to get up. Mark put his hand
on her shoulder to stop her. “You can’t fight him now. You’re still
too tired.”

“Two…”

“I know, but I’m not going to let him go
unchallenged.”

“Three…”

“What does it matter if he wins the cup? It
doesn’t mean anything.”

“Four…”

“I’m not going to let that good-for-nothing
bully win it, not him or any of his goons.”

“Five…”

“Why do you feel so strong about it?”

“Six…”

“It’s personal and none of your business.
Besides, what would a goodie two shoes like you know about
life?”

“Seven…”

“Ouch… What brought that on?”

“Eight…”

“Like I said, none of your business. Now,
get out of my way. I’m going to fight him.”

“Nine…”

“No, you’re not.” Mark raised his hand.
“I’ll fight him.”

Mark selected a riotous from the rack and
stepped onto the mat. Slone walked up to face him.

“I didn’t think you had the guts, and I know
you don’t have the skill. Last chance to back out, I know you want
to. I’ve seen you fight in class, if you can call it that.” Slone
grinned and cocked his head.

“I don’t want to fight you, Slone. I just
want to wear you out so that LeOmi has a fair chance against
you.”

“Begin!”

Slone started on Mark with the same opening
flurry that he had used on LeOmi. When he relented, Mark didn’t
counterattack. Slone came in with the knight’s ruse. Mark found it
easy to block. He didn’t take the opportunity to go on the offence.
Slone was starting to get mad.

“Fight me, you coward.”

“If you don’t like the way I fight, you can
always quit.”

Slone answered with a jab followed by a
barrage of hacking blows to the head. Slone was beginning to wear
himself out. Mark started analyzing Slone’s mistakes. He didn’t
want Slone to hear his thoughts. He decided to think of a song in
his head. He remembered his mother singing while she was
cooking.

I come to the garden alone, while the dew is
still on the roses…

Slone became furious. “Get out of my head!”
He came at Mark with all he had.

And the voice I hear, falling on my ear…

Slone was still pounding at Mark’s head.

The Son of God discloses, and…

Slone threw his body into Mark. Mark was
forced backwards, grappling to block Slone.

He walks with me and he talks with me…

Slone stepped back. He looked at Mark. His
eyes became wide with rage. He opened his mouth and let loose a
blood curdling scream.

“AHHHHHH…. Fight me you fatuous
recreant!”

And He tells me I am His own…

Slone made his charge. Mark was waiting for
it. He jabbed him in the ribs exactly where he had jabbed LeOmi.
There was a look of surprise on Slone’s face.

“Hold!”

Slone drew back his riotous to go at Mark
again.

“I SAID, HOLD!”

The instructor walked up to Mark and raised
his arm. “Winner, Mark Young.”

There were no challengers for Mark. The
instructor awarded him the trophy. The figure was a gold-colored
Magi with a raised sword. The inscription read:

SINGLE COMBAT SWORD FIGHTING CHAMPION

FRESHMAN CLASS OF THE SEVENTH MOUNTAIN

The instructor explained, “I need to take it
to Mr. Diefenderfer to have your name engraved on it. It will be
formally presented to you at graduation. Team combat contests start
after lunch. I think that you and LeOmi should enter as a
team.”

“Thanks. I’ll think about it.” Mark felt
awkward at having won the trophy and knew that he wasn’t good
enough to be paired with LeOmi as a team.

Mark went back to LeOmi. “You know, you
rightly deserve that trophy.”

“That’s all right. You won it.”

“You would have beaten him, hands down, if
you hadn’t been so tired.”

“I didn’t want to beat him. I wanted to keep
him and his slimy goons from getting it. I didn’t care if I won the
contest or not. I just didn’t want him to win it.”

“I know he’s a bully, and so are all of his
friends. What I don’t understand is why you’re so down on him.”

“I have my reasons. Maybe someday I’ll
explain it to you. Right now, I just want to be left alone.”

“Suit yourself. I still think you would have
won. You’re a really good fighter.”

LeOmi didn’t answer. She didn’t even look up
at Mark.

Mark decided to leave her alone and walked
off. He passed jugglers and acrobats and street entertainers of all
kinds on his way. Everyone from Magi City must have been there.

He tried to cheer up along the way, but he
couldn’t. His mind was stuck on LeOmi. There was something sad
about her that made him feel sad, too.

The afternoon archery contest wasn’t much of
a contest. Mr. Thorpe was taking all of the trophies. His most
impressive shots were at the bouncing ping-pong balls, five arrows
at fifty yards. The five balls were dropped from about ten feet up,
out of a box, onto a table. All five of the dancing targets were
skewered, summarily.

Mark saw a bit of motion out of the corner
of his eye. He turned to look. Ms. Vanmie fired. He jerked back
just in time. The paint pellet zinged past his head. She grinned
and waved the slingshot at him before disappearing in the crowd.
She was just playing with him, taunting him a little. He had a
flash of inspiration; having a rose delivered to her and pinned to
her tunic would be just the ticket.