The Seventh Mountain

  Chapter 17

   

  Hole in the Wall

   

  Hope transcends reason.

   

   

  The Seventh Mountain Museum of Artifacts was on the first sub-level of the school. The curator was a tall, thin man with thick black hair. He was a Magi of the Agate Tribe. He wore the usual black and silver robes of the school staff. Mark had come to know that a Magi’s tribe was indicated by the small stone on the right side of the signet ring and rank was indicated by the number of bands on the ring itself. This Magi had five bands, the same as Mr. Diefenderfer and Mrs. Shadowitz. That fact told Mark that the curator was someone high up in the school staff.

  Mr. Diefenderfer used this weekend, every year, to introduce students to the study of archeology, which included artifacts, knowledge, and skills that had been lost or forgotten in ages past. Part of a Magi’s duty was to study the past, through artifacts, and regain things lost. This lesson in the museum was designed to introduce students to that undertaking.

  The museum itself was a vast, well-lit, underground cavern. There were glass-covered display boxes everywhere. Each display box housed some sort of artifact that had been recovered from some ancient site and was here now for study.

  Mr. Diefenderfer and the curator entered the museum and all eyes turned to them.

  “This is… Quintus McGraw… the Keeper of Artifacts… and… curator of this museum. You will browse this museum… and select… an artifact… that interests you. When you have made your selection… let Mr. McGraw know… he will turn the artifact… over to you… for study. You must… keep the artifact safe. You will have… one month… to complete your study. You are required… to log in your notebook… the methods… and means… that you take… in every individual step… in the process… and progress… of your study. Your notebooks will be graded… not only on your conclusion… but… the means… and methods… of your progress. By all means… be careful down here. The artifacts… cannot be replaced. Also… the labyrinth opens… once a day… on that wall… at an unpredictable time. No person… not even one… has ever returned… from it.”

  Mark looked at the wall that Mr. Diefenderfer had indicated. For a space of about twenty feet along the wall, there weren’t any glass cases. A velvet rope held by two stands was all that guarded the wall. He walked over and looked at the wall. It didn’t look any different from any other wall in the school.

  Mark thought that it might be possible to study the staff for his assignment. He grabbed his staff and walked up to Mr. Diefenderfer.

  Mr. Diefenderfer spoke without Mark having asked the question. “For extra credit… you may study your staff… For this assignment… you must choose… from the artifacts here.” He raised his arm and swept it in an arc indicating the things in the museum.

  Mark replaced the staff into Aaron’s Grasp. He walked from case to case looking at the artifacts. Nothing interested him until he saw a small stone tablet that he could read. It read simply, “Walk through a door before it closes.”

  Mark found Mr. McGraw and brought him to the small stone tablet.

  “Ah, yes, a most curious stone indeed. The language is pre-Sanskrit, even pre-Cuneiform. No one has ever figured out what it is. It should present a formidable challenge. Are you sure you want to try this one?”

  “I think so. I mean, I can read it.”

  Mr. McGraw bent over and looked at Mark. He raised his eyebrows, and his mouth dropped open. “Praise the One God! Are you telling me that you have the Eyes of Abednego?”

  “I don’t know what that is. All I know is that I can read it.”

  Mr. McGraw turned and started looking around the museum. He raised his arm and waved it in the air. “AlHufus! AlHufus! Did you hear that? The Eyes of Abednego. AlHufus! Where are you?”

  Mr. Diefenderfer walked up behind Mr. McGraw. “I’m right here… Quintus… Did I hear you… correctly?”

  Mr. McGraw said, “Yes, yes! This boy,” his finger pointed at Mark and vibrated as if it might have been a machine pistol. “This boy can read this stone. He has the Eyes of Abednego.”

  A crowd of students was forming around the group. Mr. Diefenderfer leaned down to Mark and looked at him. “Yes… I see… Is it so? Mark… has anything like this… ever happened before?”

  “Yes sir, once before. I could read what my great, great, great, great grandfather had written in his Bible. He wrote it in German. I don’t know how to read German.”

  “Actually… that was different. That was left… exclusively for you. Do you recall… any other time… that you could read something… in a foreign language?”

  “No sir.”

  “This is most curious. Quintus… give me the information page… for this stone.”

  Mr. McGraw started walking toward the office while muttering to himself. “Yes, yes… the information on the stone. It can’t be the Eyes of Abednego. He would be able to read everything if it were. It must be a trap… yes, yes, a trap… it has to be a trap.”

  Mr. Diefenderfer returned his attention to Mark. “Mark… if you do not… which I believe… to be the case… have the ability… of the Eyes of Abednego… then… that means… that this stone… was set for you. That possibility… raises a lot of… disconcerting questions. Choose another artifact… for your assignment.”

  Mr. Diefenderfer raised the glass lid, took the stone and walked off the way that Mr. McGraw had gone.

  Nick leaned toward Mark and whispered. “You never said anything about anything like that before.”

  “I forgot about it. So many weird things have happened since then.”

  “Okay, but I want to hear the story when we go to lunch.”

  “Okay.”

  Mark was examining the cases next to the velvet rope when he noticed that the wall had vanished. There hadn’t been any sound or any other indication that it had opened up. The wall section was simply just gone. Mark walked toward the opening and said, “Hey! Check it out. The wall has disappeared.”

  A crowd started forming behind Mark. It seemed that everyone wanted to see the door that swallowed people forever. He heard someone say, “Quit pushing.” He turned to look at the people behind him. He saw Ralph Lawrence lurch out of the crowd, trying to regain his balance. Mark didn’t have time to get out of the way. Ralph hurdled headlong into him and knocked Mark toward the open doorway. Mark was knocked backwards toward the opening. The velvet rope was the only thing that he could grab.

  He crossed the plane of the opening and sensed that gravity had changed direction. He fell a long way to what had just moments before been the far wall in the labyrinth. Falling, even in normal circumstances, produces an adrenalin rush, which quickens the heart, enhances perception and muscle response, to the point of making one superhuman for a short time. Mark had experienced this rush before; only this time the enemy was gravity, a warrior that could be vanquished by no one.

  Mark looked this way and that, hoping for anything to grab onto before he came to the inevitable conclusion of this journey. There was nothing there save the two rope stands and a velvet rope, all caught in gravity’s grasp, just as helpless as he was.

  He realized that he was falling headfirst and tried to right himself in order to impact on his feet instead of his head. There wasn’t enough time and his arms protected his head as much as possible.

  He heard the rope stands clang on the floor on either side of him. That far wall was now the floor. He had hit that floor hard. His scream vanished into the darkness. The excruciating pain in both of his arms told him that they were broken. His head and chest were in agonizing pain, too. He tried to move and couldn’t, except for his eyes and all there was to see was the light from the door. He knew that he had to stay awake, but the fight was useless. He was defeated; numbing cold settled over him, and he faded into blackness.

  Time passed. Mark didn’t know how long he had been out. He awoke in pitch-blackness. A deep penetrating voice spoke to hi
s mind. Nausea squeezed, forcing the contents of his stomach up to the back of his throat.

  “Hello, Mark. Welcome home.” This was followed by a deep reverberating laugh. “Do you know who I am?”

  Mark remembered the voice from a dream that had told him that he was going to die. It was the same voice. “Are you Benrah?”

  The deep, disembodied voice continued. “Very good, Mark. Well, if you know who I am, then maybe you can guess what this place is.”

  “Where are you?” The voice sounded like it was coming from nowhere in particular, but it was close, too close.

  “It doesn’t matter where I am. What matters is do you know where you are?”

  “I know it’s cold and dark and no one is supposed to have ever gotten out of here.” Mark tried to sit up and couldn’t, it hurt too much, but he still wanted to face his jailer.

  “Mark, you can do better than that. Let me give you a hint. Each of the other six mountains is built over one, very much like this one.”

  Mark rolled over, grimacing at the pain and tried again to sit up. His arms were useless. “Oh, what does it matter what you call it. If no one can get out, then it’s just a prison, ‘til I die.”

  “Humans can’t die in here.”

  Humans can’t die in here. That doesn’t make any sense. “Well then, I guess that makes this a living nightmare.”

  “Close… it’s the entrance to the door to Sheol or Hades or Erebus or the Abyss or the Underworld or whatever you want to call it. And it is my pleasure to inform you that you will experience every pain ever known to man in here, some of which you are experiencing now. Enjoy, you are going to be here for a very long time.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Let’s see now, there are three hundred and sixty seven souls trapped in here, right now, before this particular gate. Most have been here for hundreds of years, some even thousands. None have made it out. Do you think that you are better than they are? Do you think that you can find a way out?”

  “There has to be a way out.”

  “Oh, there is. All you have to do is swear allegiance to me.”

  “You won’t get the staff that easily.”

  An intense deep rumbling laugh filled Mark’s mind. “I have no interest in that tooth pick. I have what I want of you. You are here.” The laughter continued. After a few moments, it faded and finally left. Mark realized that the voice had been in his mind and thought that it might have been a hallucination.

  He felt a deep sense of foreboding and hopelessness settling over him. He tried to fight those feelings, but the pains in his arms, chest and head were unrelenting. Something in him kept trying to make him feel like he should just give up. He didn’t want to give up, he knew he couldn’t give up, he had to fight it.

   * * * 

  As soon as Mark fell through the opening, Jamal, Nick and Chenoa ran up to look.

  “Where is he? I don’t see him.” Jamal was straining to see into the void.

  Chenoa grabbed Ralph by the collar. “What have you done? You are one sick puppy.”

  “I didn’t do anything. Somebody pushed me.” Ralph put his arm up to block Chenoa from hitting him.

  “Who pushed you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Slone Voif stepped out of the crowd. “I pushed him. I was just horsing around.”

  “You stupid idiot! Do you realize what you have done?”

  “Yes… but what’s done is done.” Slone had a slight smirk and stood with his arms folded across his chest.

  “I’m going to get Mr. Diefenderfer.”

  “You do that.” Slone turned and walked back into the crowd of students.

  Chenoa ran into Mr. McGraw’s office.

  Mr. Diefenderfer was speaking. “That means… if it was found… right after the battle… in this very museum… that Benrah… left it for a reason. We must… get everyone… out of here… as soon as possible.”

  “Sir, it’s too late. Mark has been knocked into the labyrinth!”

  “Surely you jest, young lady.” Mr. McGraw turned to face her.

  “No sir. It’s true.”

  “We must notify… the Council of Elders… at once. There is no hope… for any rescue… until tomorrow… when the doorway reopens.”

   * * * 

  In the labyrinth, Mark tried to sit up. His arms were no help. It hurt to move them, but he could move them, barely. He rolled over, fumbled into Aaron’s Grasp. The penlight was there. The narrow beam didn’t provide enough light to see much; he couldn’t hold it well. The pain was excruciating. The beam reflected off something on the floor. It was dark and glossy. Mark examined it as best as he could. It was a wide and thick puddle of congealed blood. He realized that he must be bleeding.

  He forced his arm up and felt his hair. It was matted and sticky. He looked at his hand with the light. A deep red slime covered his palm. He felt his head again. There was no indication of a wound. He checked the rest of his body as well as he could and didn’t find any wounds. I healed that fast?

  A feeble voice spoke to Mark’s mind. “There’s no way out. You might as well give up now and start your crossing.” It was much different than Benrah’s voice; this one was puny and whiney sounding.

  Mark spoke aloud. “The Council of Elders will find a way.”

  “You’re wrong. It’s all been tried before.”

  “Oh yeah! You don’t know.”

  “Okay, let me tell you what’s going to happen. You’re thinking that you’ll wait for the door to open again. Only, you’ll wait three or four weeks before that happens. Time is different in here. You’ll get so hungry that you’ll think about eating yourself, maybe a piece of your arm or leg or something. I’ve seen it before. If you manage to stick it out until the door opens, they’ll toss in some food and maybe some clothes. The food won’t be enough. You’ll eat that in two or three days. Then you’ll be right back where you were. The only way to get something else to eat is to travel through the other rooms. When you get thirsty enough, you might think that you can always drink your own urine. Only, you won’t have any. Your body can’t make any because you haven’t drunk anything. Your body needs what little fluid you have left now to replace the blood you lost. When you get hungry enough, you’ll go into the next room, believe me, you’ll go. You can bypass all that pain and go now.”

  “Why should I believe you? Go away; you’re just a hallucination or something.”

  “I’m no hallucination, but whether or not to believe me, that’s your choice. My job is to get you going. The sooner you complete your crossing, the sooner I can get back to what I was doing. You’re going to go, eventually.”

   * * * 

  Back in the museum, Mr. Diefenderfer approached the group near the wall. The door was closed now.

  Jamal looked at him and said, “I can hear him, sort of. At least I think it’s him. Everything is speeded up. He’s hurt. His arms are broken and he has blood in his hair. He’s wondering if he can hold out until the door opens again. He thinks it will be almost a month before it does.”

  Mr. Diefenderfer bowed his head. After a moment he said, “Yes… I believe it is him… I would estimate… that time is passing… twenty… or twenty-five… times faster… in there… If that is true… one hour… out here… is equivalent to… one day… in there… approximately.”

  Nick said, “That means that it could be a month, for him, before the door opens again.”

  “We must… act quickly. You three… stand vigil here… I will… set planning… in motion.” He turned to look at the rest of the class. “Everyone else… leave the museum… at once… We must… make room… for the rescue team.”

   * * * 

  Several hours had passed for Mark in the labyrinth. He started to look around in the first cavern. He was beginning to get more and more use of his arms back. They didn’t hurt as much as they did when he had come to. The walls were smooth and cold, just like the floor. He couldn’t see
the ceiling with the diminutive beam from the penlight. He walked along the walls and estimated that this first room was about the size of a football field. He felt cold and the first urges of hunger were starting to take hold.

  He remembered what Tim had told him, during the Festival of Tents, about keeping some munchies around. “You never know who might show up hungry, including me.” He had taken that advice to heart. He remembered the candies and jerky that he had in his pockets. I wish I had remembered to put some warm clothes into Aaron’s Grasp. He reasoned, that food was enough to keep him from wanting to eat himself while he waited for the door to open again. It certainly wasn’t enough to keep him from being hungry.

  He didn’t have any books with him or anything else to pass the time. He decided to lie down and try to go to sleep.

  “You can’t sleep in here.” The impish voice was back. “Sleep just doesn’t happen. My master wants everybody to be fully aware of what’s happening to them when it happens. There’s no escape from here, not even in sleep or insanity or old age. No one gets any older in here, no one sleeps, and no one dies.”

  “Yeah, right.” Mark lay back on the floor. He tried for more than an hour to fall asleep, but that wonderful place eluded him. He decided to sit up and meditate, a practice taught in communications class.

   * * * 

  In the museum, preparations for a rescue were being mounted. Mr. Diefenderfer returned with the Council of Elders, a few instructors, and a few counselors. Tim and Gerod were among them, with Tim leading The General by his reins.

  Mark could transmit his thoughts and feelings in a coherent manner to people, but he didn’t receive coherent thoughts from people. Animals could read his thoughts and feelings, and he could read theirs. From most animals he only received thoughts of senses, emotion or intent. There had been two notable exceptions to this. First, the lioness had transmitted articulate thought, mental pictures and senses; second, The General had transmitted mental pictures and senses, specifically what he could see, taste and smell. The lioness was too dangerous to try and use to communicate with Mark. The General was the next best choice for that purpose. Anyone could read Mark’s thoughts, if they were close enough and he wasn’t trying to prevent it. Mark could see what The General was seeing if he was close enough.

  “I don’t know… if this… will work… We are going… to try… to communicate… with Mark… through… The General… We need… to get… The General… to think about Mark… Would one of you three… mind mounting…?”

  Before Mr. Diefenderfer could finish, Chenoa was on The General’s bare back. He reared and she slid off.

  Gerod and Mrs. Shadowitz sat up a large paper tablet on an easel. Mrs. Shadowitz wrote on the paper:

  We are here.

  We can hear your thoughts.

  We understand the time difference.

  Hang on.

  We have plenty of food for you.

  Do you have broken arms?

  Mark watched the events unfold in very slow motion. It wasn’t as slow as the thralls had been moving on Christmas Day, but it was slow, none-the-less. He knew that he was seeing through The General’s eyes. From the time that he had first started seeing the images until he could read the message in full, nearly half an hour had passed.

  Mark thought about how cold he was and how weak his flashlight was. He brought his thoughts and feelings to the front of his mind so that anyone could sense them. He worked his arms to let them know that he was all right now. A half an hour later he could see the new message on the tablet through The General’s eye:

  Warm clothes,

  Better light.

  You are all right.

  Anything else?

  Mark realized that Divine intervention might be his only hope. He got to his knees and started praying. A short time later, he saw in his mind’s eye, that everyone that The General could see was praying, too.

  At least three weeks had passed for Mark. He ate what little food he had, sparingly. There was nothing that he could do but sit and wait. He saw through The Generals eyes how the glass cases in the museum had been moved. A very long ladder was lying on the floor. It was obvious that they were planning to shove the ladder in the door as soon as it opened.

  The voice that had started out small and feeble in Mark’s mind had grown stronger over the last three weeks. It was now a very forceful voice that Mark couldn’t shut out.

  “That’s been tried many times in the past. Won’t work. You can climb up, but you can’t get out. Although, I must say, you are the first one that has been able to communicate outside. It’s not going to do you any good, though.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. They understand the time difference and they’re sending in plenty of food and clothes. You said that wouldn’t happen.”

  “Yeah, well, no one has been able to communicate outside before, either. Just because you got this far, doesn’t mean you’re going to get out.”

  “We’ll see.”

  There was a new message on the tablet.

  Stand clear when the door opens.

  We’re sending in clothes and food first.

  Then we’ll put the ladder in.

  The ladder is self-supporting,

  Stay clear until the legs lock in place.

   * * * 

  About three days later the door opened. Half a dozen duffel bags fell from the opening. Sometime later, the ladder dropped down and locked into place.

  Mark climbed. At the top, he pushed against the opening. It was like pushing on a stone wall. He couldn’t get out. He could see the people outside moving very slowly. He tried again and again to find some weak point in the opening. Nothing budged. The door finally closed.

  Back on the floor, Mark looked through the duffel bags. There was more than enough food to last for thirty days. He savored every bite of a beef-stew meal pack and downed two bottles of lemonade. He found fresh clothes to put on. The warm socks and boots were a welcome relief from the sandals that he had been wearing. He tucked the jeans pant-legs into the boots before tying them up. That was something that he had been taught to do by his parents for when it was cold. He tucked the sweatshirt in before cinching his belt. He stuffed the pockets of the cloak full of meal packs and he put some into Aaron’s Grasp. He was taking Tim’s advice again, just in case.