Eighth Fire Read online

  The Eighth Fire

  CHRONICLES OF A MAGI: BOOK II

  Gene Curtis

  Edited by Rick den Haan

  Copyright © 2011 by Gene Curtis [Smashwords Edition]

  www.GeneCurtis.com

  The Eighth Fire

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Wedding

  The desert smelled delicious, like a feast for kings. Mark looked around. Mrs. Shadowitz wasn’t kidding when she said a Magi wedding was one humdinger of a party. It seemed to him that large numbers of people from all the mountains were there as well as non-Magi guests. There was hardly enough room to move around in the six square miles of open desert surrounding The Seventh Mountain. And talk about food, hundreds of people had shown up with the makings for some pretty fine dishes. His mom even brought fixings for more than two hundred servings of her fabulous steak fingers.

  He leaned his head back and took in another long, tantalizing sniff. “I smell turkey. Someone’s cooking turkey and it smells great!”

  Chenoa, standing next to him, closed her eyes and took in a long sniff. “Fried chicken.” She smelled the air again and sighed.

  Cap’n Ben threw his arms up and exclaimed; “I smell french-fries. Let me at ‘em.”

  James grinned and said, “I knew I was going to like this school.”

  James, Mark’s older, adopted brother and great, great, great, great grandson of AlHufus Diefenderfer had been approved to attend The Seventh Mountain last year. James had not been a direct candidate since he hadn’t been recommended by anyone. Mr. Diefenderfer would have recommended him had he not been trapped in the labyrinth when the time came. As it happened, Mark’s counselor had studied James at the same time he studied Mark since the brothers were so close, though three years late, James was approved to attend this school for Magi training.

  James had been with Mark every step of the way as his brother followed mystical clues that enabled him to discover an ancient staff his four greats grandfather, Joseph Young had left for him. Mr. Young had also left Mark a farm in Virginia and a stock portfolio worth a half-billion dollars. One of the most astonishing things was that Mr. Young and Mr. Diefenderfer were still alive, best friends with each other and both were members of the Council of Elders here at the school.

  James so much wanted to be a Magi, like his younger brother. Magi had super abilities. He’d seen his brother in a sword fight last year where he laid waste to a squad of animated snow monsters in just a few seconds. Aaron’s Grasp, something that all students learned here, was simply amazing: being able to carry almost anything invisibly. And being a warrior trained to fight the most malicious of evil things appealed to him deep in his soul.

  A voice from behind the group said, “Care for a swim?” Before the sentence was finished, a wool blanket fell over Mark’s head. He didn’t have to look to see who had spoken; he knew the voice and the attitude. It was Ricky Barns.

  Immediately, Mark’s mind was filled with rage, remembering last year’s attack where he was tackled, rolled up in a blanket and then thrown into the moat. He almost drowned in that incident and right now he’d like nothing better than to roll Ricky Barns up in the blanket draped over his head and toss him into the moat, just to let him see how it felt.

  Mark pulled the blanket off his head and held it up to look at it. He didn’t say a word before draping the blanket over his shoulder. He started walking off through the crowd without replying to Ricky.

  Ricky said, “Slone’s right. You are a coward.”

  Mark kept walking and said, “Thanks for the blanket.”

  Ricky ran up behind him, grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. “You and me! Right here, right now!”

  “Ricky, you really are an idiot. This is a party. People are here to celebrate Shana and Gerod’s wedding, have fun and enjoy themselves. Only an idiot would want to spoil a good time. Besides, I know you’re not alone. You won’t fight me one on one. You’re the coward.”

  “You’re wrong. Slone says I can take you and I think you need to be taken down a notch or two. You don’t scare me. I’m on to your tricks.”

  Mark tossed the blanket over Ricky’s shoulder. “There’s your security blanket back. I think you need it.”

  Ricky’s lips tightened, his eyes widened and he sucked in a hard breath while drawing back to take a swing at Mark.

  Mr. Thorpe grabbed Ricky’s fist. “If you boys want a competition, we have plenty to choose from, but there’ll be no fighting. If you still want to fight when you get back to school, that’s fine. I’d like to watch. I could do with a good laugh.”

  Mr. Thorpe was one teacher Mark would prefer to avoid when he could and it was no secret Mr. Thorpe had no great liking for him either. Last year he had even referred to Mark as one of Tim’s “little brats” right in front of Mark and loud enough for the whole world to hear. Mr. Thorpe showed contempt for anyone below his station and groveling respect to anyone above it. And there weren’t many above him since he had been a member of the Council of Elders until recently; the least senior member, but a member none-the-less. He graciously stepped down to allow Joseph Young, a former senior member thought lost to the labyrinth, to rejoin on his return.

  Mark said, “Sir, I had no intention—”

  Mr. Thorpe cut him off. Even in a low tone, his tremendously bassy voice penetrated Mark to the core. “Intentions have no substance. It is action that has consequence. Am I clear?”

  Mark nodded his head. “Yes sir.”

  Ricky said, “This isn’t over.”

  Ricky winced. It was obvious that Mr. Thorpe had squeezed his fist.

  “If you’re involved in a fight at this reception, don’t bother showing up for orientation.” He let go of Ricky’s fist and walked off.

  Mark didn’t acknowledge the glare Ricky was beaming at him. He just turned and walked away. Chenoa, James and Cap’n Ben walked next to him.

  The wedding itself had been a solemn affair. The school grounds around The Island had filled up fast. Everyone that arrived early enough staked out positions on the ground near The Island. Those that arrived later and couldn’t get close enough to see well were allowed to watch from the bleachers or from a balcony area on whichever level of the school they chose.

  Shana looked very much the bride in her bright white gown and veil. She carried a bouquet with an emerald green ribbon and all of the bridesmaids were dressed in emerald green evening gowns. Gerod was towered over by his best friend and best man, Tim. They both wore black tuxedos. Gerod wore a multi-colored striped bowtie and Tim wore an emerald green one. Mrs. Shadowitz officiated wearing a pale orange gown. It seemed everyone in the ceremony was wearing tribe colors in one way or another.

  No sooner had Mrs. Shadowitz said the words, “I now pronounce you man and wife,” than a squadron of MIGs roared over the crowd in the missing man formation. Gerod looked up, shook his head, grinned and waved. It was his squadron giving the salute.

  Those not already on the school grounds began making their way there. The reception was supposed to be the equivalent of Tent Fest, a seven day medieval style festival, rolled into a non-stop, three day, two night party.

  It wasn’t long after the aerial salute that Tim’s tennis shoe shaped balloon touched down on top of The Island where the ceremony had been held. The newlywed couple climbed aboard along with Tim. The balloon lifted off and everybody cheered.

  The balloon began flying low over the crowd now, allowing everyone to shout their congratulations to the newlyweds as it passed overhead. Everyone preparing food was at one of many outdoor grills set up on the grounds near the school’s main entrance and they were beginning to bring their dishes to a sea of tables nearby. The aromas filling the air were heavenly.

  Chenoa spotted Nick and Jamal amo
ng the people swarming the tables to check out the food. She waved and yelled, “Hey Nick! Jamal!”

  Both boys looked up, grinned and waved back.

  They got together, filled their plates and found a spot not too far away to sit.

  Cap’n Ben pulled a long french-fry from his plate and shoved it into his mouth before asking, “Why on earth did Ricky want to fight you?”

  Mark dug his fork into the pile of cranberry sauce, “That’s the way he is. When I first met him, he, Ralph Lawrence and Keith Richards had ganged up on Nick.” Mark nodded his head toward Nick. “Ever since then, it’s been a confrontation every time we meet. They joined up with Slone and you know the rest.”

  “It sounds to me like you need to teach them a lesson.”

  Chenoa said, “We tried that last year. It just kept getting worse. I’m sure that’s why Slone pushed Mark into the labyrinth.”

  Mark shook his head, “He didn’t push me exactly. He pushed Ralph Lawrence into me and that knocked me through the opening.”

  Chenoa countered, “He knew exactly what he was doing and if you ask me, he’s the one that put Ricky up to fighting you. He’s up to something.”

  Nick swallowed and said, “I agree. You can’t trust any of them.”

  Jamal turned his plate so the meat was directly in front of him. “You have to keep your guard up around those guys.”

  Cap’n Ben said, “You think he was trying to bait you into a fight so you’d get kicked out of school?”

  Mark said, “I don’t think Ricky is that smart, but Slone certainly is, and that’s Slone’s style, to get someone else to do the dirty work for him.”

  Chenoa frowned and looked rather disgusted, “Isn’t this supposed to be a party? Can we talk about something else?”

  Cap’n Ben grinned and rubbed his chin, “Let me see...What’s the one thing we all enjoy talking about? It couldn’t be flags, could it? What say after we eat we head over to The Island? They won’t take the bridge over the moat down until tomorrow.”

  Mark said, “Sounds like a plan.”

  By eight fifty p.m. the group had explored The Island in detail, participated in a few competitions and eaten three more meals. They were just settling in to watch the fireworks when the entire Council of Elders appeared behind them. Mrs. Shadowitz said, “These are whom you seek.”

  Mark turned around, as did the rest of the group, to see who had spoken. They stood when they saw who it was. A man in a black cloak with no trim spoke. Mark didn’t recognize him. “Mark Young, James Young, Joel O’Ham, Chenoa Day, Nikola Poparov, Jamal Terfa...You all are under arrest pending this investigation. Surrender your weapons.”

  Mark said, “Arrest? Investigation? Investigation of—”

  Mrs. Shadowitz said, “The nature of the investigation will be explained to you all in due course. We need you to accompany us to the school.”

  Mark looked at Joseph Young, his great, great, great, great grandfather and newly restored member of the Council of Elders. Mr. Young said, “It is best to wait before your questions are answered. This matter is most serious.”

  Mark said quickly, “What matter?”

  The man in the cloak said to a group dressed as he was and standing behind the Council of Elders, “Restrain them.”

  Mrs. Shadowitz said, “That will not be necessary. Mark, you need to be quiet. Surrender your weapons and come with us.”

  Mark looked down, closed his eyes and nodded his head.

  Mrs. Shadowitz led the group past the newly erected statue of Mark and his friends that commemorated the fact that they had been pre-chosen, through the main entrance into The Seventh Mountain, down the short hallway and into the main accounting office of The Good Steward. The accountants had finished work for the day and all the desks in the front room were vacant. Mrs. Shadowitz said, “Have a seat at one of the desks and do not talk to each other.”

  A moment after the group was seated; Jeremy, Shana’s assistant, and a couple of other counselors came into the office with everyone’s parents; all of whom looked bewildered. Steve, Mark’s dad, went straight to Mrs. Shadowitz and asked, “What’s going on?”

  Mrs. Shadowitz said to everyone in the room, “You parents can follow Elder Joseph Young and he will explain the situation. Students will go one at a time into another office with Monsieur Fontaine. I ask you to answer his questions as completely as possible.”

  Mark said, “Ma’am, are you going to tell us what this is all about?”

  Monsieur Fontaine spoke up, “This is an investigation of a very serious criminal matter. You will be told the particulars after you’re finished with the interrogation.”

  “Interrogation!” Steve stepped toward Mark and Mrs. Shadowitz stepped into his path. Steve said, “You make this sound like a murder investigation or something.”

  Elder Young raised his hand and said, “If you parents would kindly follow me, I’ll explain the situation.”

  Monsieur Fontaine said, “Mark Young, I’ll speak with you first. Have a seat in this office.” He pointed to a closed door.

  The parents started following Joseph Young and Mark walked into the office Monsieur Fontaine had indicated. A small business style desk occupied most of the floor space and with the floor to ceiling shelves on three walls there was barely enough room for Mark to walk around the desk and sit in the only chair in the room.

  Monsieur Fontaine entered, pulled the door almost closed and paused a dramatic second before pulling it completely closed with a loud click. He turned, faced Mark and let out a deep sigh.

  Mark said, “Sir, what is this all about?”

  Monsieur Fontaine didn’t answer. He just took off his cloak, folded it in half and laid it on the desk, all-the-while staring at Mark.

  Mark started, “Sir–”

  “You really can’t be quiet, can you?” He paused a moment.

  Mark decided it best not to say anything.

  The silence continued for more than a minute before Monsieur Fontaine said, “This morning, you wished to roll Ricky Barns up in a blanket and throw him in the water.”

  Mark started to speak, but Monsieur Fontaine’s hand shot up palm facing Mark. “You and your friends spent quite a long time on The Island.”

  Mark knew better than to answer. He just cocked his head slightly and looked back at the investigator. He was wearing a black tie over a white dress shirt and black trousers. The stones on both sides of his signet were black. The stone on the right meant he was from Onyx Tribe. Anyone from Onyx Tribe always saw things as black or white, right or wrong and never anything in between. The black stone on the left probably meant he thought there was always a right way or wrong way to do things, never anything in between.

  Mr. Thorpe, Mark’s math teacher from last year, had black stones on either side of his signet. Mark thought since the two stones were the same on both signets, the two men’s personalities would be very similar. To his dismay, he was beginning to see that idea was absolutely true.

  “Was he unconscious when you and your friends threw him in the water?”

  Mark wasn’t sure if he was supposed to answer or not.

  Monsieur Fontaine slammed his palm on the desk making a loud noise, shattering the silence like a gunshot. “He must have been or he would have been able to—”

  There was a knock on the door just before it opened and Mrs. Shadowitz entered. “Wyatt, I have sent for the Ummim-Thummim Stone.”

  The investigator kept his gaze on Mark. “There’s no need for that. I’ll have the truth out of this boy, post haste.”

  Mark blurted out, “What truth? Just tell me what you want to know and I’ll tell you.”

  Mrs. Shadowitz said, “Tell me everything that happened on The Island.”

  Mark looked puzzled. “We just looked it over, trying to figure out things that might give us an advantage in flags matches.”

  “You didn’t have an altercation with Ricky Barns?”

  “Not on The Island. He tried to pick
a fight with me this morning, but Mr. Thorpe stopped it.”

  Monsieur Fontaine seemed incensed at Mark’s answer. He raised his hand to slap the desk again. Mrs. Shadowitz’s hand shot out and grabbed his hand before he could start his downward swing. “Wyatt, the preliminary forensics report is in, and there is something interesting among his belongings. Go have a look.”

  That bit of information gave Mark enough to put things together; this was indeed a murder investigation. He didn’t need the ability of spirit speak for Mrs. Shadowitz to know what he was thinking, even though his mind was racing and screaming, Ricky’s dead? How? Why? They think I killed him. Why aren’t the healers trying to bring him back?

  Mrs. Shadowitz said, “Yes, Mark. Ricky is dead. His body was found wrapped in a saturated blanket on the bank of The Island. His spirit has already departed and can only be returned by the One God.”

  Mark jumped up, “The labyrinth! I’ve got to take him into the labyrinth! People can’t die in there and all injuries and sicknesses are healed in there. I’ve got to take him in.”

  “Mark, that won’t happen. His spirit is already gone.”

  “Ma’am, I’ve got to try!” His eyes began to well up. “If there’s just the slightest chance, I’ve got to try. I’ve got to.”

  “Yes, I know you do. Mr. Diefenderfer is standing by, waiting for you in the healing ward. Mr. Young is on his way up there as well. Don’t stop to tell your friends. Just go. I’ll tell everyone.”

  Mark said, “Yes, ma’am.” She opened the door and he scrambled through it.

  Mark held the door to the labyrinth open with the staff while Mr. Diefenderfer tossed in a couple of bug bombs followed by a couple of duffel bags full of supplies. Bug bombs were small incendiary devices developed a few years back for quickly driving away evil spirits and using them prior to entering the labyrinth was always a good idea. Time moved about twenty-four times faster inside the labyrinth than outside of it. Though they planned to be gone no more than three or so hours according to outside time, three days would pass inside the labyrinth. Mr. Diefenderfer hoisted Ricky’s body from the gurney and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He stepped through the opening, followed by Mr. Young with a lantern, and Mark carrying the staff, the only known means of opening the doors in the labyrinth.