The Seventh Mountain (10 page)

Tim began speaking. “All of your questions
will be answered in time. Hopefully, what I am about to tell you
now will answer most of them. I am sorry that I don’t have time for
lengthy explanations.”

Tim began walking backwards while still
facing the family. His bulk cut a swath in the crowd of people like
an icebreaker in the arctic.

“Mark has been chosen to go to The Seventh
Mountain. That is an academy for Magi. Mark is a Magi just like his
great, great, great, great grandfather before him. He has to
go.”

The family followed in the wake that Tim
created. Asking questions seemed somehow inappropriate now, things
were moving so fast. Mark listened very carefully for the next
clue; the next bit of information that might shed some light on
what this was all about or how to get to school.

“He will learn a great many things there.
You can visit him during Christmas or he can come home to visit
you. You can also come to the flags matches the last Saturday of
every school month. The school handles transportation.”

There it is; the school handles
transportation. Tim probably has a car or something around
here.

“You can write, too. Just leave your letter
on his pillow, on his bed, at home. He will get it. Just make sure
to leave his room as it is now and do not close the curtains.”

That information was a bit out of the
ordinary and didn’t seem odd because everything was happening so
rapidly.

“Classes begin on the first of September or
the Monday after that if it falls on a weekend. Orientation starts
a week before classes begin. That means that Mark is due at
orientation today… now.”

I’m due at orientation today. I don’t even
know where the school is. Wait, maybe the school is right here.

Tim, still walking backwards, held out a
piece of paper toward Mark. “This is your school enrollment form.
Turn it in if you decide you want to stay.”

Before Mark could take the paper, Tim turned
and was walking forward. That put the paper a little farther out of
Mark’s reach. Mark jogged a couple of steps to catch up. Just
before Mark reached the paper, Tim turned the corner. Mark followed
quickly and grabbed the paper. Mark and Tim vanished.

Tim said, “Welcome to The Seventh
Mountain.”

Mark stopped in his tracks. “Whoa!”

Steve, Shirley and James turned the corner
not more than five steps behind Mark and Tim. Mark and Tim were
nowhere to be seen. It was as if they had vanished into thin air.
There was no place for them to be hiding. They were just gone.

Mark looked around at his surroundings. He
was standing on rock-strewn sand. Straight in front of him was a
mountain. Stone walls made it look like a multi-terraced cake.
Behind him was a wall very far away. It looked as if it encircled
the entire mountain. He rubbed his eyes. This was right from his
dream.

“You need to check in first. Then you need
to set up a file with the accountants. I will help you with that.
Then you can check out the stores. I will have to leave after we
get you set at the accountants. I have to go and collect the rest
of my students. Follow me.”

“Where’s my family?”

Tim started walking toward the mountain.
“Well, they are still in New York. I will explain later.”

Mark followed Tim to the mountain. It was
just like in his dream. The desert was hot, but not too hot. It
actually felt good to be there.

A young lady was sitting at a table just
inside the doors. She greeted them as they entered. She wore a
black tunic trimmed in silver. Her short brown hair enclosed her
round face. Her vivid eyes glowed like green embers.

It was cool inside and had the feel of a
shopping mall. The corridor they were in led to another corridor
that ran perpendicular. People, loads of them, some dressed in
black tunics or gray tunics, others dressed in regular clothes,
walked in small groups in both directions in the corridor
ahead.

Tim put his heavy hand on Mark’s shoulder.
“This is Mark Young. You can check him off your list.”

The lady smiled and looked at her clipboard.
She made a notation on the paper and nodded at Tim. She picked up a
set of papers and handed them to Mark.

Tim turned to Mark. “You are checked in now.
The accountant’s office is our next stop. It will cost about two
thousand dollars to buy your schoolbooks and supplies.”

So that’s why I need all that money. Things
are expensive here.

“You can just sign for your supplies until
you get your signet, but you need your account set up first. There
are lots of neat shops here. You will want to check it all out.
Remember that I need to leave after we finish at the accountants. I
will meet you at The Oasis say around 8 o’clock tonight. You will
like The Oasis.”

“The Oasis?”

“Yeah, you can get anything you want to eat
or drink there, from any place in the whole world. I always get
something that I have never had before. I have been there hundreds
of times and never had the same thing twice.”

Tim turned and walked to a set of double
glass doors that were in the same corridor that they were in. The
sign on the doors read, “The Good Steward.” Tim held the door open
for Mark to enter.

Inside looked like any office you might see.
The people were sitting behind desks in the main room. There were
offices on the far wall. Tim stepped up to a desk.

“This is Mark Young.” He fished inside one
of his robe pockets and retrieved several slips of paper, one of
which he handed to the man behind the desk. “This is his
information.”

The man looked at the slip of paper and then
at Mark. His blue eyes were almost as bright as Tim’s. He handed a
clipboard toward Mark. “Sign these and we will set up an account
here that draws on your account at Chase Manhattan.”

Mark signed the papers and handed the
clipboard back to the man.

He turned to talk to Tim, but Tim was gone.
The door leading back to the mall was closed. He saw the door
leading outside, into the desert, just finish closing. Mark turned
to the man and shrugged. “Thank you.”

Mark went out the door that he thought Tim
had gone out. Tim was nowhere to be seen. It dawned on him that he
was alone. Everything that had just happened had happened so fast.
Fifteen minutes ago he had been in the plush conference room in New
York. Now he was standing and looking out over a desert in the
middle of who knew where. There was no one there that he could ask
questions. He was a stranger in a strange place. He looked at the
papers the lady had given him when he checked in.

Text Books:

“Ancient Languages, Level 1” (Diefenbuacher
and Dover)

“Single Combat Strategy and Tactics”
(Joramina Vanmie)

“Algebra and Numeric Logic” (Thorpe and
Shadowitz)

“History of Empires” (David Giancoli)

“History of Scientific Thought” (Allen and
Becker)

“Communication Theory and Practice” (AlHufus
Diefenderfer)

“Astronomy through the Ages” (Charlie
Goodfellow)

Clothing:

(1) Dress School Tunic set (black and
silver)

(1) Blazon Tabard

(3) Work tunics sets (gray)

(5) Class tunic sets in tribe colors

(1) Pair sandals (“flip-flops” are not
allowed)

(1) Pair work boots (winter type)

(1) Hooded cloak (summer type)

(1) Hooded cloak (winter type)

Various under garments and toiletries as
needed

Equipment and Supplies:

Clean white paper and parchment

Notebooks

Sealing wax

Signet ring with your name

Writing tools (pens, pencils, and
highlighters)

Calculating machine

Binoculars or hand held telescope

Astronomical telescope (groups are allowed
to share these)

Combat training sword

Combat training weapon of your choice
(optional)

Combat training knife (optional)

Utility tool

Saddle (optional)

Mark’s thoughts were interrupted by a sound
that he knew only too well. It was the sound of the taunting of a
bully. He remembered an incident with Keith Green and the
Greenies.

Being accosted by the Greenies had been a
regular, almost daily, occurrence for Mark in grade school. In the
episode that he remembered now, it had been two whole weeks, a
record of sorts, since Keith Green and his buddies had bothered
him. That was when they had thrown him over the fence into
Beaufort, the German Shepherd’s yard. Since that time he had been
taking a different route to and from the store and it seemed to be
working. He would cut behind the store and across a field to a
street that ran a block behind his house. It was the long way
around, but it was worth it to avoid the Greenies.

The day that he remembered was different. He
rounded the corner to the back of the store and there they were,
sitting on top of the dumpster. Each had a beer and a cigarette.
Mark heard someone say, “Grab him!”

Mark’s first thought was,
They’re going
to make me smoke a cigarette.
It always seemed like what he
thought was the worst thing that they could do to him was exactly
what they did do.

Mark turned and before he completed his
first step he felt a hand latch onto his collar. He landed flat on
his back. Keith climbed on top of him, sitting straddling his chest
with his knees pinning Mark’s arms down. Someone was sitting on
Mark’s legs. The rest of the crew stood around laughing.

Keith said, “This is so that you won’t tell
on us, you frigging tattletale. You say we were drinking beer. We
say you were too. You say we were smoking. We say you were too.”
Keith shoved a lit cigarette into Mark’s mouth. “Smoke! Or we’ll
beat the crap out of you!”

The door to the back of the store swung
open. “What’s going on out here?” A voice called from inside the
door. Mark looked to see who spoke. A short man wearing a white
apron was standing at the door.

The Greenies froze in their tracks for a
moment. All at once they broke and ran in different directions.
Mark was still lying on the ground with the cigarette in his mouth.
He sat up and spat the foul thing out.

“Looks like I opened that door in the nick
of time. You okay, son?”

Mark stood up. “Yes sir.”

“Those kids were in here earlier. I thought
that they were up to no good. I just couldn’t catch them.”

“Thanks.” Mark knew that he had to do
something about the Greenies. This was getting ridiculous. He was
going to do something; he just didn’t know what that something was,
yet.

Mark came back to reality and looked for
where the sound was coming from. Not fifty yards from the school
steps, a single boy was being confronted by three other, larger
boys. They all looked about Mark’s age. The one boy was shouting at
the other three.

“GIVE IT BACK!”

Mark walked over to the group. It was
obvious that the bigger boy in the group of three had taken the
single boy’s school list away from him. He was holding it over his
head. The larger boy had fifty pounds and half a foot on Mark. His
very round head said that he had a more than healthy appetite, if
not much brains.

The single boy was about the same size as
Mark. His tousled black hair and open shirt gave him a disheveled
look. The altercation had obviously been physical at some
point.

“Here, you can have mine.” Mark handed his
list toward the boy.

They all stopped and looked at Mark. The
bigger boy in the group of three said to Mark, “I know you. You’re
Mark Young. I dreamed about you. You don’t scare me.”

Mark looked at the larger boy and smiled.
“That’s right. I am Mark Young. Who are you?”

“My name is Ralph, Ralph Lawrence. I’m not
afraid of you.”

Why does he keep saying that he isn’t
afraid of me?
“Who are your friends?”

The guy on Ralph’s right side said, “I’m
Ricky Barns.” He was tan and lanky. His accent made Mark think he
was from Texas. His face reminded Mark of a cartoon buzzard. His
nose was way too big for his face and his eyes were way too
small.

The guy at Ralph’s left side was short and a
little pudgy. He reminded Mark of the little garden gnome statues.
“I’m Keith Richards.”

Mark let his smile go. He looked Ralph
straight in the eyes. He wanted to let Ralph know that the odds had
shifted a little. He thought about what he would like to do to
Ralph; or any other bully for that matter. He twirled his staff
over his head like a baton and brought it to rest horizontally
under his arm. Mark smiled again. Ralph stiffened and dropped the
list.

Ralph said to no one in particular, “Let’s
go.”

Ralph and his two buddies walked off toward
the school’s main entrance. That was the first time in Mark’s life
that a bully had backed down so easily.

“Thanks. I’m
Nikola
Poparov
. My friends call me Nick.”

“I hate bullies. What were they picking on
you for?” Mark picked up the list on the ground and handed it to
Nick.

“I don’t know really. I guess because I was
out here alone and seemed like an easy target. Are you a freshman,
too?” Nick took the list back and nodded his thanks.

“Yeah, I think so. Tim, the guy that brought
me here, said that I should check out the shops and then meet him
at 8 o’clock tonight at The Oasis. You want to hang out ‘til
then?”

“Sure. Tim brought me, too. He told me the
same thing.” Nick buttoned up his shirt and dusted himself off. He
noted that one of the buttons on his shirt had been torn off.

“Are you hungry? I didn’t get a chance to
eat before Tim brought me here.”

“Yeah, me too. Let’s see if we can find The
Oasis. Where are you from?”

“Kansas. How about you?”

“North Carolina.”