The Seventh Mountain (22 page)

Tuesday mornings brought
the extremely boring, Ancient Languages class with Mrs.
Julia Diefenbuacher
. Not simply Mrs.
Diefenbuacher, but she insisted, Mrs. Julia Diefenbuacher. An hour
each of ancient Hebrew, ancient Greek, and ancient Egyptian, first
thing in the morning, was enough to put anyone back to
sleep.

Tuesday afternoons were for the once a week
class with Harmonious Thorpe, Algebra and Numeric Logic. His voice
reverberated through the classroom.

“Mark Young, tell me what the Pythagorean
Theorem is used for.”

Mark was glad that he had taken Tim’s advice
and read the first two chapters in his textbook. Mark stood up.
“Sir, it’s used to calculate the length of the longest side on a
right triangle, given that the other two sides are known.”

“Then, you’re telling me that if I know the
longest side, the hypotenuse, and one other side that I can’t use
it to calculate the remaining unknown side?”

“Well, yes sir. I mean no, sir. You can use
it to calculate the unknown side in that case.”

“Well then, how about calculating the
diagonal in a rectangle.”

Mark thought for a moment. “Yes sir. I
believe you can.”

“What do you mean,
you believe
? Either you
know or you don’t. Explain yourself.”

“Well sir, the diagonal of a rectangle forms
two right triangles. The diagonal is actually the hypotenuse of
either or both of the resulting right triangles.”

“That’s correct. Sit down. I want a paper
from you describing and explaining the common uses of the
Pythagorean Theorem. That will be a minimum of ten pages, diagrams
not included.”

Chenoa leaned into Mark. “Wow, I think he is
still mad about what happened on the balcony.”

Mr. Thorpe rounded and pointed at Chenoa.
“Young lady, there will be no talking in this class unless I
authorize it. You come sit up here. You there,” He pointed at a boy
sitting at the Ruby table, about as far away from Mark as was
possible. “You go sit where she was sitting.”

The two exchanged seats. Mr. Thorpe pointed
at Chenoa again. “You will see me after class.”

Chenoa nodded her head slowly. “Yes
sir.”

Nick wrote in his notebook
and showed it to Mark.
I’m glad this class
is only once a week.

Mark looked at Nick and barely nodded his
head yes. Mark glanced around the classroom. There was one student
smiling at the Ruby table, Slone Voif.

Chenoa served three hours of detention
sitting at the table and not saying a word. It was extremely boring
and difficult to do. She couldn’t even talk to herself and wasn’t
allowed to do anything but just sit there.

Mark completed his assignment before Mr.
Thorpe’s next class, ten pages exactly, of text talking about the
uses of the Pythagorean Theorem in everyday life and with ample
diagrams to illustrate his points. He wrote about everything from
using it to make sure a structure is built absolutely square by
using the simple three, four, five triangle to making charts to be
used in measuring distances that couldn’t be measured directly. Mr.
Thorpe thumbed through it quickly, wrote “75” in red ink on it and
handed it back to him.

Mr. Thorpe was secretly disgusted with
having to do that, but it had been Mrs. Shadowitz’s punishment for
him, to compensate for the wrong that he had done to Mark. He never
gave extra credit assignments to anyone, ever.

Mark didn’t realize it at the time, but he
had just earned seventy-five points that no one else had. Classes
were passed or failed based on the total number of points
accumulated, not on the average of tests and assignments. One
thousand points were needed to pass a class; fourteen hundred was a
perfect score. Generally, one hundred point tests were given in
every class, every two weeks, fourteen tests in all, including
midterms and finals.

No matter where you go they are always
there
.

Getting used to the class schedule wasn’t
hard. Almost three weeks had passed since the beginning of classes
and Mark no longer had to consult his paper to figure out where to
go next. Being at the right place at the right time had become
automatic.

There wasn’t much spare time either. It
seemed that if they weren’t eating or sleeping or doing homework
that there was some scheduled event going on. Combat exercises were
the most time consuming with all moves and combinations having to
be performed accurately in the next class. What little free time
there was, was precious.

The first practical skill that had been
assigned to be learned was Aaron’s Grasp. Mark continued to
practice, wondering if he would ever get the hang of it. He
remembered Mr. Diefenderfer introducing it in class.

“Aaron’s Grasp is… a most useful ability.
Practice… this exercise… to learn… the proper relationship between…
mind… body… and spirit. Take any object… that you normally carry…
in your hand. Give it… to someone… to hold for you. At the same
time… you… are the person… that is going to hold it. Don’t think
about… handing it off. Don’t think about… taking it. Imagine… if
you will… a time… when your attention… was focused on… something…
so intently… that you unconsciously… handed what you had… in your
hand… at the time… to someone else. Now imagine… that you… are
standing… with the person… your attention… captured by that same
thing. You unconsciously take… what you are handed. That is… the
focus… that is needed… for this skill.”

Mark was practicing the exercise, using the
staff, while he walked through the hall with Nick, Chenoa and
Jamal. It was easy to tell who the other freshmen were in the hall;
they were all doing the same thing. They would move their hand to
the side or out in front of themselves and then pull it back
slowly, looking to see if what they had in their hand was gone. It
was like a little dance that all the freshmen were performing.

Chenoa said, “I wonder what the Festival of
Tents is like.”

Nick replied, “My brother, Ivan, said it’s
way cool.”

Jamal added, “My brother, Idaltu, says that
there are all kinds of contests, archery, swords, horses and things
like that.”

“I think I’ve got it.”

They turned to look at Mark. He was holding
his hand out like he was holding the staff, but the staff wasn’t
there.

“I can’t get it back.”

Jamal slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re
thinking about it. Try focusing on something else.”

Mark pulled his hand back after Jamal
slapped him and the staff was there. The slap had been just enough
to divert his attention for a split second.

 
* *
* 

The Festival of Tents started one day shy of
three weeks after classes had begun. That Friday, individual tents
had been set up on the grounds surrounding the school. Everyone was
expected to live in their tent for the entire feast, rain or shine.
It was a curious fact to Mark, but history had recorded no rain
during the Festival of Tents at The Seventh Mountain, ever.

The group selected four tents that were
close to each other. The only thing that the small tents appeared
good for was providing a little shade and shelter from the rain,
should it ever rain. The floors were bare ground. There were no
sleeping bags or anything else to sleep on. There were just tents
and nothing more.

Mark looked around. Older students were
bringing out bedrolls, pillows and blankets.

He looked at Chenoa. “I think we need to go
and get something to sleep on.”

“I think you’re right.”

Mark turned to Nick and Jamal. “You guys
stay here and hold the tents for us. We’ll bring back some stuff to
sleep on.”

Mark and Chenoa walked off toward The
Island. That was the closest entrance to the school. They wound
their way through the randomly placed tents.

Mark asked, “How are you doing on Aaron’s
Grasp?”

“I can do it sometimes, but I can’t really
control it. Is there a trick to it?”

“No. There’s no trick to it really. You just
have to not think about it and just do it. It’s like walking or
breathing or tying your shoe or something like that. Just do it
without thinking about it. That’s what works for me.”

“I understand what you are saying but…”

Mark felt something hit him in the back,
hard. He found himself lurching forward and falling face first to
the ground. Ralph Lawrence had tackled him.

Chenoa was startled by the suddenness of the
assault. She turned to see who else might be involved. Slone Voif
was standing there grinning. There were more than a dozen students
with him.

Slone said to no one in particular, “It
might be funny to roll him up in a blanket and toss him in the
moat.”

“You’re not going to do any such thing!”
Chenoa started toward Mark. A group of students that she didn’t
recognize headed for Mark as well. She felt hands grab her by both
arms. She tried to break free but couldn’t. She heard another voice
in the crowd. She turned to see who it was. It was the girl with
the spiked hair.

LeOmi was standing face to face with Slone.
“You can’t do that! He’ll drown.”

Slone grinned at her. “Your point is?” He
made a motion with his hand that told the others to proceed.

LeOmi delivered an expert reverse roundhouse
kick to Slone’s face. As soon as her foot touched back down; the
heal of her right hand impacted his nose. Blood splattered across
his face.

“You call them off and I won’t kick your
butt.” She was bouncing on the balls of her feet with her arms
raised to a boxing position.

Slone just looked at her, eyes unblinking
and still grinning.

Someone tackled her from the side. She went
down hard and was momentarily stunned. She regained her senses and
saw that her assailant was sitting on her stomach with her arms
pinned under his knees. It was Ricky Barns.

He said to her, “Be still and you won’t get
hurt.”

She smiled and whispered. “You only get one
warning. Get off of me now.”

Ricky chuckled.

Mark had been overwhelmed by the suddenness
of the attack. At least a half dozen guys had grabbed him and
pinned his arms to his side. They quickly rolled him up tightly in
a large blanket. He tried to struggle to no avail. It was very hard
to breath rolled up in the blanket. He had heard what their
intentions were. He waited, anticipating when to take a breath and
hold it.

LeOmi brought her legs up in a feigned
attempt to pry Ricky off of her. He shifted his weight back toward
her legs which released the pressure on her arms. She brought her
arms up over her head and spun her body so that she was on her
stomach. She pushed herself up while Ricky was still on her back,
jumped backwards and landed on top of him. This knocked the air out
of him. She heard a splash behind her as she got up.

The water quickly saturated the blanket.
Mark knew that he was sinking ever deeper into the moat. He started
twisting and trying to roll in the water. He was thinking that the
blanket would come unwound from around him if he could just roll.
He was holding his breath but his brain was telling him that he was
smelling something extremely foul. The foul smell was quickly
becoming an overwhelming stench. He felt like he had to vomit. In
his mind’s eye, he could see the thing that was causing the stench.
It was a dark colored, wiggly thing just ahead. Mark realized that
he was seeing through the eyes of some creature that lived in the
moat. It dawned on him that it probably was a leviathan.

Ricky was getting up. LeOmi let loose with a
barrage of kicks and punches. Ricky started to fall over. She
grabbed him by the collar of his tunic with one hand and grabbed
his belt line at the same time with the other hand and pulled
toward her. She pushed his neck away to keep him off balance while
she walked him backwards toward the moat.

“If you ever touch me again, I’m going to
hurt you real bad! Do you understand me?” LeOmi jerked him a little
to stress the point.

The surface of the moat erupted. A very
large, grayish creature shot out of the water. The fury of the
splash soaked anyone within ten yards of the water blast. The
creature splashed back down and was gone as quickly as it had
appeared.

A dripping bundle squirmed on the sopping
wet earth. Mark extricated himself from the saturated cocoon. He
stood, catching his breath while he scanned the masses. Slone Voif
was thirty feet away, smiling and staring at him through the
crowd.

Blind rage swelled inside of Mark’s head.
His vision narrowed so that the only thing that he saw was Slone.
Deep inside of himself he knew that this was the reaction that
Slone wanted. He wasn’t about to let him succeed. It took effort,
but he managed to control the urge for revenge.

LeOmi stepped up to Mark. “I know how you
feel. He’s just trying to tick you off.”

“He succeeded.”

Slone called over to Mark. “Ralph wanted to
get you back for what you did to him and his friends. In my
opinion, this evens the score, unless you think different. If you
want to go one on one, I’m right here.”

Chenoa had walked up behind Mark. She
whispered, “He’s baiting you. Don’t fall for it.”

Mark turned, smiled and winked at Chenoa. He
knew a bully like that would never go one on one if his followers
were anywhere around. He brought to the front of his mind an image
of a large dinosaur-like creature swallowing him whole in the moat.
He knew that Slone was probably tuned in to his thoughts.

Mark called back to Slone. “Are you
challenging me to a duel?”

“I guess you could say that.” Slone folded
his arms across his chest.