The Seventh Mountain (29 page)

The crowd was roaring.

The announcer called out, “That ends the
match. By my count, Emerald tribe has two hundred and ninety-one
points. They had one hundred and forty-seven points with that last
flag and one hundred and forty four points added with the bonus
flag. That’s a very big win for Emerald Tribe.”

Chenoa rode up to Krisa. “Krisa, the
announcer is wrong.”

“What do you mean, he’s wrong? I counted the
points myself. He’s right.”

“We captured the other teams’ flags.”

“You’re kidding? That’s funny. Nobody has
done that in years.”

“I’m not kidding. We have them.”

“How did you get them without being
challenged and no one seeing you?”

“It was Mark’s idea. We created two
diversions and then we sneaked in the back of the corrals.”

“Well, if you have them, go get them. March
them out onto the field.”

Chenoa yelled, “Listen up! Grab a flag and
go out on the field. The announcer didn’t count all of our
flags.”

Players scrambled to get a flag and get out
onto the field.

The announcer sounded. “Hold on, folks.
Emerald Tribe is challenging the score. They’re coming onto the
field with their flags for a recount… Folks, I count thirty-six
flags… Emerald Tribe has all the flags! That’s a whopping seven
hundred and thirty nine points. What an upset! I’ve been announcing
here for more than fifty years. I’ve never seen anything like it.
This is one for the history books. How’d they do that?”

Mystery is best understood through the eyes
of someone else.

By the end of November, everything was
pretty much routine. Mark started to ponder the events of the
previous months. He wondered what his life would be like if he
wasn’t at The Seventh Mountain. His previous life all seemed pretty
mundane to him now. He knew that this was the best thing that had
ever happened to him.

He thought about his friends and tried to
figure out what would be the perfect Christmas presents to get for
them. The shopping mall sold just about anything that anyone could
ever want. There had to be a thousand shops in the three and a half
miles of mall space, perhaps more. Not to mention the activity
centers that occupied the center of the first level of the
mountain.

There was an elaborate bowling alley,
several Olympic sized swimming pools, two skating rinks, one for
ice and one for wheels, a skateboard park, a stunt bike park,
basketball courts, baseball, soccer and football fields, go-carts,
bumper cars and you name it inside the first level of the mountain.
Everything was indoors.

The problem for Mark was that he didn’t want
to get just anything that you could buy at some store. The
relationship with his friends, although spanning a short three
months, was one of those that you just knew was going to last for a
lifetime. Jamal, Nick and Chenoa had become like close family; they
were not just friends.

The same went for Tim, not that he wouldn’t
be pleased that Mark had gotten him a gift. It was just that Mark
couldn’t think of anything really special for him, either.

After all, Tim, with the help of Gerod, had
saved his life, but that wasn’t the only thing. Tim was more like
an uncle than just a counselor. He wasn’t as much a part of his
life as his parents or brother was, but he was much closer than any
other relative that he had ever known.

He remembered
something.
What was it that Tim had said
about the art in the hall? Oh, yeah, anything that you were
interested in could be bought at the end-of-the-year art auction. I
wonder if I can have an artist make something for me?

Mark decided that instead of going to lunch
that he would go to the fourth level, arts section. He would be
missed at lunch, but it couldn’t be helped. He would just tell his
friends that he had something to do.

The fourth level had all kinds of artwork on
the walls and standing on the floor. There was more here than he
had seen anywhere else in the school. Some paintings were as big as
movie screens, tapestries hung here and there were statues carved
in marble, granite, and other stones, and some were cast in metal
and plaster and plastic. It was absolutely remarkable.

The sounds were very different here.
Somewhere off to the left, a choir was singing and musical
instruments were playing something with an energetic tempo.

“Hi, there. You’re a little out of place,
aren’t you?”

He turned to see who just had spoken. It was
a medium sized lady wearing the standard black tunic with silver
trim and a black cloak. Her round face held bright blue eyes and a
warm, gentle smile. Her warm, auburn hair hung across her
shoulders.

“No, ma’am. I’m in the right place. I was
wondering if I could get somebody to make something for me?”

“Do you want to commission a piece of
art?”

“I guess you could call it that. I just want
to see if someone can make four little statues, all the same.” Mark
held his hands about two feet apart to indicate the size.

“I think that we can find someone to do
that. I’m Jean Hall, head of the Arts Department. Tell me a little
more about what you want, and I can guide you in the right
direction.”

“Okay. I’m Mark Young and I want something
special for my friends. I guess; something about being
pre-chosen.”

“I see. I think I have just the artist for
you. Follow me.”

Mrs. Hall led the way through the corridor
and into a very large room, even by Seventh Mountain standards. The
room had the smell of burnt metal and solvents. Large tables,
covered with debris from various art projects, were everywhere.
Students in gray work tunics were busy with their tasks, doing this
and that, here and there.

“Vince, I have someone here that I want you
to meet.”

Vince was dressed in a work tunic covered
with stains and scorch marks. His hair was so close-cropped that it
was hard to tell what color it was and his face was rugged, almost
harsh. He walked up to Mark, wiping his hands on a rag. He offered
his hand to Mark.

“Hello, I’m Vincent Von Hildergrase. What
can I do for you?”

“Hi. I’m Mark Young. I’d like to get four
small statues made.”

“Mark Young… I saw you in the flags match.
You guys were great.”

“Thanks.”

Mrs. Hall said, “I’ll leave you two to
chat.” She turned and left.

“So, let’s go over here to the sketch pad
and you can tell me what you want.”

Mark sat down with him at a table with a
large sketchpad on it.

“So, describe what you want.”

“I can show you if you like. I have Rooack
Dabar. I can project my thoughts into your mind.”

“Go for it.”

“Okay, clear your mind and relax.”

Vince looked at Mark and shrugged. He closed
his eyes and his shoulders slumped.

Mark began thinking of the day that he and
his friends had been pre-chosen. He went from the horses riding up,
to their riding off on them.

“Wow! That was incredible.”

“What do you think? Can you make four
statues just alike?”

“Sure, let me draw you what I’m thinking.”
Vince took a piece of charcoal and began drawing. A couple of
minutes later he showed the pad to Mark.

“That is the primary image that I got from
you. Do you like it? I think it says it all.”

“It’s wonderful.”

The image showed The General rearing and
Mark reaching up to him. The other three horses were kneeling, with
his three friends walking up to them, each with a hand
outstretched.

“All right, then, come back tomorrow, and
I’ll have a working model made up and we can discuss any
changes.”

Mark had enough time to make it back down
for the last hour of lunch. Normally the group would go to The
Oasis and use the first hour to confer with each other on their
homework assignments, which were abundant. The second hour was used
for eating.

Chenoa asked, “Where have you been? We
waited for you for a bit, but I was hungry.”

“Sorry, I had something that I had to do.”
Mark took a seat in the booth.

“What was so all-fired important?” Chenoa
shoved her plate to the center of the table.

“A little Christmas shopping.”

“Christmas shopping? Did you get
anything?”

“Not yet, I’m still looking.”

Shana came up and Mark ordered.

Jamal said, “He’s right; we don’t have a lot
of free time. Lunch is about the only time that you can shop.”

Nick said, “We’ll have more free time after
Christmas, when our rides with Mrs. Shadowitz are over.”

Chenoa added, “That won’t help us now. Sorry
I got mad, but you should have told us.”

“I didn’t think about it until I was on my
way here. Sorry I made you wait.”

Jamal said, “Okay then, until Christmas
vacation, we’ll use the first hour of lunch to go shopping.”

Nick asked, “Do we do it together or
separately?”

Chenoa said, “Separate is better, until we
finish shopping for each other.”

 
* * *
 

The next day, before lunch, Mark went to see
Vince.

“Hi, Mark. I’ve got it right over here.”

Mark followed Vince to a table that was
covered in plaster dust and chips. More than two-dozen small
chisels were on the table with most of them covered in dust. The
carving sat on a round plaster slab. It looked exactly like what he
had drawn the day before. It gave him that eerie feeling of being
in a dream and looking down on the events again, as they
unfolded.

“If you like I can add small stones to the
headdresses, just like the real ones.”

Mark leaned in close and examined the
carving. There was fine detail all over it. The manes on the horses
looked as if they could have been real hair. He started to touch
it.

“Hold it; don’t touch it. The oils in your
fingers will degrade the detail.”

Mark continued to look at it. “It’s
absolutely beautiful. You’re going to make three more just like
it?”

“Oh, no. This is just the working model.
I’ll use it to make a mold for castings. I’ll cast them in which
ever metal you like: gold, silver, pewter, bronze, brass, nickel or
whatever. I can cast it in plastics, too. Now, if you want it in
stone, I have to carve those individually.”

There was a lot more to it than Mark had
imagined. All of the statues that he had ever seen were either
bronze, like the ones in front of the city hall, or stone, like in
the pictures in books. That was until he had been at The Seventh
Mountain and specifically on the forth level. There had been all
kinds of different metal statues in the hall, but it had just not
sunken in that they were that different. He even remembered the
plastic ones, now.

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

“Well, that was a pretty special thing. It’s
likely to go down in Magi history, so you’ll want it in something
that will last a long time. Gold and silver are too gaudy, I think.
Except for bronze and brass, the other metals just aren’t noble
enough to commemorate such an event. Marble would be my
recommendation if you want stone, but that wouldn’t be ready in
time for Christmas.”

“Which is better, bronze or brass?”

“Bronze is better.”

“Okay, make them bronze and put the stones
in.”

“Are there any other changes you want to
make?”

Mark used his finger to write in the dust on
the table. “Title it ‘For Friends’ and put that on the base.”

Vince wrote on the table.
“Don’t you mean ‘Four Friends?
’?”

Mark drew a line through
what Vince had written. Mark was thinking intently of how he felt
about his friends. “I mean ‘For Friends.
’”

Vince looked at Mark and nodded, slowly. He
understood that these statues were for friends, indeed. “They’ll be
ready in two weeks.”

The next day, Mark was going to Mr.
Diefenderfer’s shop to look at rings for his mother’s Christmas
present. A ring with everyone’s birthstone would be just the thing
for her.

The mall was crowded with people as it
always was. He noticed some of the upper classmen from Emerald
Tribe who weren’t wearing the standard Tribe tunics, trimmed in
emerald green. They were wearing jeans and shirts in about every
other shade of green that exists. Other students were dressed in
varying shades of orange or yellow or red or whatever colors their
tribe happened to be. Other people, too old to be students, were
dressed in normal clothes, like normal people. They must have been
non-Magi, from Magi City.

He was walking past an island in the mall,
featuring a fountain and several rather large plants, in the middle
of the corridor, when he heard that all-too-familiar voice. It was
the voice that always preceded a confrontation.

“Hello, Mark. Where’s your friends?” Ralph
Lawrence was in front of the pack. The pack had grown now; there
were many more than a dozen of them. Slone was standing off to the
side, watching.

“What, were you home-schooled by Jethro
Bodine or something?”

Ralph turned to look at Slone. Slone said,
“Jethro Bodine was a character in an old sit-com, the stupidest
hillbilly ever created.”

Ralph turned back to Mark. “You’re saying
I’m stupid?”

“Figure it out. It’s lunch time, Christmas
is coming, I’m in the mall…” Mark hummed the Jeopardy Theme
Song.

Ralph threw a sweeping roundhouse punch at
Mark. Mark easily leaned back to avoid it. This was followed by an
upper cut that missed widely. Mark, bouncing on his toes, threw two
stinging jabs straight into Ralph’s nose.

Slone’s crew rushed in and grabbed Mark,
pinning his arms to his side. They looked at Slone.

“He’s feckless, trash him.” Slone pointed at
a nearby trash container. It was made of heavy gauge wire like the
ones found on street corners and at bus stops.