Eighth Fire (17 page)

Hania said, “My life is yours young
warrior.”

“Why did you try to kill me? I’ve done nothing
to you!”

“The Great Spirit saved you as the prophecy
said. You are the chosen one.”

“I’m the chosen one? Chosen for what?”

“Chosen to light the Eighth Fire.”

“What is this Eighth Fire?”

“Seven prophets of long ago told of the future
for The People. There would come seven fires which represent seven
ages, with each fire having specific things that would happen. All
have come to pass. At the end of The Seventh Fire would come a
young prophet, a warrior that would light The Eighth Fire and
herald the dawn of a new age. It would be an age of hope or
destruction depending on the path The People chose. The Seventh
Fire ended last night.

“The way of the spirit and a remembrance of the
Original Instructions, the way of the Great Spirit, is the path of
hope. Mankind must travel back along the path he has taken over the
years and recover knowledge of those things discarded along the
way. This is the path to brotherhood and harmony. To continue on
the path of the mind is the path of discord and destruction.

“We have known of you for more than a year now
and believed you may be the chosen one. Yet only by a test, even to
the death, were we able to be sure. Only when we were sure could we
allow you to pass into the maze for to fail in the quest laid
therein is to doom mankind to destruction. Only your success opens
the path of hope. My life is a small price to pay for that hope, as
was yours if you were not the chosen one.”

Mark released the warrior’s hair and put away
his sword. “What if this quest isn’t mine?”

“The quest is yours, young warrior, for all has
come to pass except one thing as spoken by the prophets. Your path
begins in that cave.” Hania pointed but Mark saw no cave. “There is
yet one more test.”

Hania looked skyward and raised his voice, “I
call for the prophecy bearers.”

All eyes searched the two groups while seven
people stepped forward; among them Si Day and his daughter Chenoa.
The group of seven stood before Mark. Hania stepped up and made the
eighth.

Hania began, “For more than two thousand years
the prophecy of the warrior that would light The Eighth Fire has
been passed from generation to generation in two families.”

Si continued when Hania paused, “We know you
bear the cane of the Great Spirit and in that cave stand the Column
of Destiny and the Column of Keeping.” He leaned toward Chenoa and
started whispering.

Another of the seven said, “There is written on
the cane of the Great Spirit words not of any language of this
world that will be read by a gifted one.”

Yet another said, “We will understand the truth
of these words and The Eighth Fire will light upon the Column of
Destiny.”

Another voice said, “And for as long as The
Eighth Fire burns there remains hope.”

“The Column of Keeping will open and the cane of
the Great Spirit will once again be complete,” said the next
speaker.

“You will know you are the chosen one when these
things come to pass for will light for none other,” said the next
voice.

Chenoa continued, “You will pass through seven
deaths to find what you seek and back again through the seven
deaths to deliver what you find.”

Hania ended, “With your success there remains
hope. If you fail there is no hope; destruction is certain.”

The group followed Hania to the opening of the
cave. It had been hidden from view from where they stood due to
their angle of observation. When they entered Hania looked around
and said, “I’m not afraid. How do you feel, young warrior?”

“I’m not afraid either if that’s what you
mean.”

In the cave Habeas Grob walked up to the two
columns with Mark at his side. Mr. Grob held out his hand and Mark
handed the staff to him. He in turn motioned for another Magi to
step forward. Mr. Grob handed the staff to the hooded figure who
then examined the writing on the staff and began to read.

“The One True God is my keeper.

My needs are satisfied–”

Mark recognized the voice, “Cap’n Ben?”

Mr. Grob placed his hand on Mark’s shoulder and
Cap’n Ben looked back down and continued to read.

“He lets me rest in abundant fields, and drink
from quiet waters.

He brings back my strength and shows me the
right way to go to honor Him.

I may journey to deadly places, but I am not
afraid for He is with me.

His pole and cane protect me.”

Immediately there was a mild earth tremor
followed by a soft hissing sound. A bright flame burst into life
atop the column to Mark’s right. Mark heard Chenoa off to the side
whisper to her father, “I knew he was the one!”

Hania walked up, put both hands on top of the
other column and gave it a stiff twist. The top came off in his
hands.

Si had followed Hania. He reached in and removed
a pole, the obvious mate to the staff, from the interior of the
column, looked at it, smiled and handed it to Mark. Cap’n Ben
handed the staff back to Mark. Mark remembered how the top had come
off in the banker’s office last year. He joined the new piece to
the bottom of the staff to form a single staff about eight feet
tall.

The bottom ten inches or so of the staff were
shod with some sort of metal presumably to prevent wear when using
it as a walking stick. The blue spirals and brass colored bands on
the lower part matched the upper part. Mark held the staff over his
head for everyone to see.

Hania stepped up in front of Mark and said,
“Many prophecy bearers have longed for and dreaded this very day.
Much is at stake.

“You will travel deep within the Earth where you
cannot be tracked. Where you go now, none can follow. Evil cannot
enter here. Your journey is treacherous and all that is known about
it is that you will face seven deaths: rot, blood, insects, poison,
breath, fire and freezing.”

He handed Mark a feather. “This is the feather I
took from the eagle to prove myself as a warrior. I prize it above
all my possessions and I give it to you now in hope that you will
find strength when you need strength, wisdom when you need wisdom,
speed when you need speed and courage when you need courage. Most
of all let it remind you to always walk in the way of the Great
Spirit.”

Mark took the feather and nodded.

Mr. Day stepped up and handed Mark a flint knife
with a crystal handle, bound with leather and inlaid with turquoise
and silver. “After Xocotli told of your coming my ancestor made
this for you. It has been passed from firstborn to firstborn in my
family for more than two thousand years. It is my honor to present
it to you and to let you know that more than a hundred generations
of faith go with you. May the hand of the One True God guide and
protect you.”

Mark took the knife, looked down and said,
“Thank you, Mr. Day.”

It took half an hour for the
support team to set up the tables and equipment— radios and
computers mostly— in the large room.
Mr. Grob motioned and
Mark was handed a canvas bag. Mr. Grob raised his hand and said, “A
quest begins with the first step.”

Mark put on the radio headset and spoke into the
mike. “Is it working?”

A voice in the earpiece said, “It’s
working.”

He put the staff, knife and feather into Aaron’s
Grasp and hoisted the strap of the duffel bag onto his shoulder. He
turned to look at the crowd before heading off deeper into the
cave.

So many things had happened in the last two
years and he had hardly taken the time to think about them.
Everything from the first dreams to rescuing those trapped in the
labyrinths had just been the right thing to do. This quest was
different. There was much more at stake.

On the one hand he knew retrieving the power
source for the sunstone was very important in the efforts to
prevent Benrah from taking over the world or ousting him once he
had. On the other hand he knew that if he didn’t destroy or turn
over to Benrah what he found here that Benrah was very likely to
carry out his threat and destroy everything he ever held dear.

The only way he saw that he could circumvent
Benrah was to become incapable of completing the quest and that
wasn’t likely to happen without some help. Then again, by doing
that Benrah would win since the sunstone couldn’t be activated
without the power source. His only choice was to recover the power
source and let destiny take its course.

A voice in the radio headset said, “Check
in.”

It was the first of the planned ten minute
status checks. Mark said, “Loud and clear. I’m still not feeling
any fear.” He glanced back and could see the silhouettes of some
people still staring after him. He also noticed that the walls were
getting closer together. He held his lantern over his head and
waved it back and forth wishing he didn’t have to do this alone. It
would be a lot better if his friends could come with him. He turned
back around and started walking again. Two hours later he came to
his first challenge.

He spoke into the voice operated mike, “I’m at
the pit.”

The answer came, “You are at the pit. Your
signal is starting to fade a little. Mr. Giancoli’s repeater must
have failed. Set out another repeater and switch your transmitter
to channel two.”

The radio signal repeaters were small devices
designed to retransmit a signal received on a particular frequency.
It effectively doubled the range of Mark’s radio which wasn’t very
far underground. Using repeaters at intervals was supposed to allow
him to stay in touch with the crew waiting back at the entrance. He
set out one of the small devices, switched to channel two and said,
“Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

He turned his attention to the next task and
couldn’t see the other side of the pit regardless of where he held
the lantern. He searched along the wall and found a fist sized rock
on the ground. He went back to the pit and tried to throw it
across. About four seconds passed before he heard it bounce off the
far wall of the pit. He never heard it hit bottom.

He found the rope that Mr. Giancoli had used and
following it back saw it was tied off to a large piton driven
firmly into the rock floor. He pulled the rope up and estimated it
was about five hundred feet long. He tied the lantern to the end of
the rope and lowered it into the hole. The sides of the pit weren’t
straight. They began sloping away about one hundred feet down. At
the full length of the rope he couldn’t see the lantern’s light
anymore.

After pulling the lantern back up he removed it,
took the climbing harness out of the duffel bag and tied the duffel
bag to the end of the rope. He lowered the bag, cinched up his
climbing harness and said, “I’m going in.”

The voice in the ear piece said, “I don’t need
to remind you that this is near where we lost contact with Mr.
Giancoli.”

“I’ll be careful.”

He wasn’t more than a few feet down when he
noticed the peculiar, unpleasant smell of the pit was getting
stronger. “Did Mr. Giancoli mention anything about an odd smell in
the pit?”

“Hold on, I’ll check.” A few moments later the
earpiece voice said, “Nothing was mentioned about a smell.”

“Well, there’s a bad smell in here and it’s
getting stronger.” Mark locked his descender on the rope and looked
around. There was nothing of note on the stone walls. He continued
his descent.

At the end of the rope the slope of the walls
had changed quite a bit. He thought that Mr. Giancoli had tried to
walk from this point on. “I’m at the end of the first rope. I’m
attaching my other rope. I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Sounds like a good idea and set out another
repeater, your signal strength is starting to fade a bit.”

The slope didn’t change over the next five
hundred feet. “That’s it on the rope. I’m going to try walking from
here.”

“Roger. Your signal strength is still good. Take
it slow and easy.”

It wasn’t five steps before Mark stepped on
something slippery. He lost his balance, fell backwards onto the
duffel bag and started sliding fast. The slide came to an end when
he went over a ledge and plopped into some kind of thick gooey
mess.

He tried to swim to the surface but it was like
being caught in cottage cheese. He retrieved an oxy-cap and put it
in his mouth. The taste of the muck was unbelievably horrid, but at
least he could breathe. After several minutes of struggling he
decided to use the staff to see if he could touch bottom. It
worked. He was able to push himself to the surface. He didn’t start
sinking when he brought the staff up.

He had just finished wiping his face the best he
could when something splashed into the muck just in front of his
face; something small, alive and frantic. A moment later, before he
could react it clawed itself up over his face and onto his head. He
recognized the frenzied scrambling and cries of a rat.