Chronicles of a Magi: Boxed Set

By Gene Curtis

The complete first four novels in the Chronicles of a Magi series plus a side story of the first year at The Seventh Mountain told from a different student's perspective. Readers compare it to Harry Potter and say it is better. Five, Faith based, horror-thriller novels, in a boxed set.

1. The Seventh Mountain
"The Seventh Mountain by Gene Curtis is pure delight. Curtis wields a tremendous imagination and uses it to transport the reader to another world, where sword wielding Magi fight for good, evil lurks just out of sight and a young hero searches for his destiny. Sure to be compared to Harry Potter, but undeniably more compelling." - Jeremy Robinson

Book Description:

A dream, surreal and frightening, begins the path of Mark Young's future; a path set long before he was even born. Fortunately, it's not a path he's doomed to walk alone. His course leads to true friends, fortune and a place where he learns to wield great power. This place is The Seventh Mountain, the place where Magi train. The Seventh Mountain conceals the direst legend known to man. Mark's fate lies within.

2. LeOmi's Solitude
Growing up is hard, especially with a mother like LeOmi’s and a grandmother not much better. Try living it New Orleans and looking for a murderer, her mother’s killer. He’s a man that would just as soon off LeOmi as sneeze.
LeOmi is adept with edged weapons; a skill that puts her far ahead of her classmates.
Intrigue and betrayal stalk her in her first year at The Seventh Mountain. Some would be glad to see her dead. She meets her equals: a boy whose heart is good and a boy that only seeks power. She is distrustful of befriending either, yet one is her future.

3. The Eighth Fire
A faith based fantasy thriller so gripping in its action and convincing in its plot that readers are cautioned not to read it before going to bed.
The theme: The next step in fighting the antichrist.
The story: The quest for an artifact the antichrist desperately wants destroyed.

4. The Cave of Nine Bears
Following every clue to find and destroy the sunstone before Benrah’s forces discover they have a useless counterfeit and that the Magi forces still have the real one, as-well-as access to the information it contains, Mark abandons that quest to others in order to help LeOmi find the staff prophesied to be hers. At every turn their path is fraught with peril. The search for the sunstone and the hunt for the staff converge into a violent conflict amidst the backdrop of the American west that the Magi forces cannot afford to lose.

5. Ten Kingdoms
Ten Kingdoms sweats with high-tension anxiety and the perils heroes Mark and LeOmi face to stand against Benrah, the son of Satan. The future fate of the world rests in their hands. They discover details about what he is planning and must find a way to thwart his scheme. Ruby, one of Benrah’s lieutenants, is vicious in her attempts to stop them. The fight is on!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gene Curtis
• Release date: Dec 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311137357

Gene Curtis

Gene Curtis is Founder, Manager of RE Investment League LLC, a member organization dealing in real estate re-development of rental properties. The company provides advisory services for individuals and firms interested in real estate investing, along with instruction for its members learning to invest in real estate.The author, Gene Curtis, was part of the B Honor Roll Program in the Business College at the University of Utah where he conducted classes in Real Estate Principles and Practices.As a Certified Instructor, recognized by the Utah Department of Business Regulations, Mr. Curtis was instrumental in the development of the Graduate Real Estate Institute Program for the Utah Association of Realtors®.As Administrator and Instructor at Certified Careers Institute, a Nationally Accredited, degree granting college, Mr. Curtis crafted and authored more than a dozen certification courses of study with associated text books for student certification in various career endeavors.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Day Before Twelve

The voices of history yet to come had spoken his name.

The desert smelled hot, like a smoldering griddle. The white-hot brightness beat Mark’s shadow into a small oval that sought solace beneath him. He knelt, touched the sand and his fingers seared. Fist sized stones baked on the desolate landscape and black distortions shimmered in the expanse that stretched before him. A stone wall blocked the way to a terraced mountain that stood far in the distance. It was a mountain unlike any he had ever seen, yet it stood there, enduring, stoic, facing the onslaught of heat and time. This wasn’t the way to school.

The sun began to roast his face and neck; blisters started to form. Shade, he needed shade. The mountain was too far away. He looked around and there was nothing, nowhere to go, no shade anywhere. He knew he was going to be late for school.

Suddenly it was cool, oh, so very cool. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten there, but he was standing in an ornate room. It didn’t matter. It was good to be out of the sweltering sun. Looking around, he didn’t know where he was. Three-quarter-round couches flanked matching large marble tables, each in a different color. There were at least a dozen of them, every one big enough to seat no less than thirty people. Chalkboards lined the wall above a short stage. This wasn’t the right school.

Hello. Is there anybody here?

No one answered. A strange uneasiness began to settle over him. There was a fear here, tangible, like when you wake up in the middle of the night startled, laying stark still, watching for a shadow to move and straining for the slightest sound. He waited for any noise, any movement of whatever was preparing to strike.

It grew from something imperceptible at first then suddenly the danger was too real. He could feel it, taste it and smell it. He just couldn’t see it. It grabbed his stomach and squeezed, making him feel sick, like he had to puke. I’ve got to get out of here!

He opened the door into a stone hallway and looked both ways. It seemed endless, curving off out of sight in both directions. The marble floors glistened. Doorways, paintings and sculptures lined both sides of the hall.

A deep, contemptuous voice burst into his head. This is where you’ll die.

Mark didn’t turn to look. He darted to the next room and ducked in. It was another classroom. He looked back out. No one was there.

You’re going to die here. The voice boomed from nowhere and everywhere.

Mark jumped. He looked behind himself. No one was there. He backed into the hall. Every inch of hall was decorated in ornate marble, stretching high to the ceiling. The ceiling was decorated with burnished wooden beams that spanned from wall to wall, forming a diamond shaped pattern. Elaborate chandeliers dangled from every intersection.

You’re going to die here.

He looked around again. Still, no one was there. He started running. The hall seemed endless. Step after step took him past statues, doors and paintings. Everything looked the same.

He knew the name of the voice. He just couldn’t bring it to the front of his mind. It was an old name, ancient and evil. It was a name that held meaning. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he knew that people used to shake in fear at just the mere mention of this name. What was this name? He just couldn’t form it in his mind. It wasn’t like any of the common names that he had ever heard associated with evil like Lucifer, Satan, or the Devil. It was different. This name itself was power, subtle and deadly. It felt like suddenly realizing that a Copperhead was one-step ahead and it was about to strike. What was this name?

Somehow, he knew some of the rooms at this school had really bad things in them. Each of those rooms held a terrible death; only you came back to life just so you could die again. He had to stay out of those rooms, but where were they?

The voice said again, You’re going to die.

He was still running when he came to a corridor that crossed the one that he was in. Which way should I go? Both ways looked the same and exactly like the one that he was in. Something in him made him want to turn left and run as far as he could. Something else in him made him want to stand and fight. Which was right? How can I fight something that I can’t see?

The voice was everywhere he went. He passed several more corridors before he had the urge to turn left again. This short passage dead-ended into an odd shaped wall. Eight inside corners inset into the end of the passage. All but one corner had protruding stones. He used the stones to climb the wall.

In the darkness of the platform before him, he knew that he must face this evil thing whose name he might never know. He looked down and saw a sword in his hand. It felt ever so right. Its long thin blade was sharp on both sides. The handle and hilt were some form of polished metal. It was light, too light for its size. He rested the point on the stone slab that he was standing on. The sword tip slid into the stone effortlessly. He raked it to his side, carving the stone all the way, more than an inch deep, as it went. It took no physical exertion to slash the stone.

You’re going to die here.

Mark saw, in his mind’s eye, a sword coursing silently through the black toward him. He raised his sword to block the blow. His assailant’s blade was sliced cleanly in two when it struck Mark’s sword.

Mark’s mind flashed an idea of escape. He jabbed his sword, hilt deep, into the stone floor and sliced a circle around himself. Gravity worked.

Mark fell to the floor below. It was a large room filled with rows of marble tables and chairs. Each row was a different color. Dining booths lined the walls. He picked himself up. Everything still worked.

You’re going to die here.

Mark started running again. There was no way to get away from the voice. He desperately wanted to get away from it. Running was the only thing that he could do. His thoughts reminded him of a first-grade reading book, Run Mark, run. Running was his only escape.

A different level of consciousness broke over him. He realized that he was kicking the covers off his bed. He forced himself to lie still. Seconds ticked like single drops of rain before the coming storm. Is this real or am I still asleep? He waited. The voice was silent.

Mark slid his robe on over his pajamas. The hardwood floor was unexpectedly cold. He almost expected it to be marble. He found a pair of socks in his old wooden dresser. He looked in the cracked mirror. The dream had been so real. He expected to have a sunburn.

Going downstairs, he paused, looking down the stairs before touching the wooden handrail. He halfway expected it to be lined with pictures and statues.

Military life didn’t afford much in the way of luxuries. Elbowroom was one of those extravagances that was lacking in this house. That was obvious in the combination kitchen-dining room where his family was seated for breakfast.

His family was in their usual morning places. Dad was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the paper; mom was busy in the kitchen, and James was at the table, drinking his usual morning orange juice. He braced his mind for the onslaught of the voice to commence again. It never came.

James, his older and only brother, was both a brother and a bother. James felt that it was his place, and only his place, to insult Mark whenever the chance presented itself. Let someone else try it and there would be strife. James was definitely somebody to be reckoned with. That was the major bother; Mark always felt like the little brother whenever James was around.

Morning Mom. Morning Dad. Morning James. What’s for breakfast?

Baby’s hungry, said James.

Shut up!

Steve, Mark’s dad, didn’t stir from the newspaper. That’s enough, guys.

Mark’s mom replied, Biscuits and scrambled eggs.

Okay, sounds good. Mark looked at his dad. I had a strange dream last night.

Steve looked over the newspaper. Dream?

Baby had a scary dream. Poor baby. James stuck his lower lip out.

Mark gave James a scowl. He knew that James was just trying to get under his skin. Mark almost forgot to use the etiquette that had been pounded into his head over the last almost twelve years. Being the kid of a Marine demanded that the use of terms like ma’am, sir, please and thank you, be steadfast elements of ordinary conversation.

Yeah… I mean, yes, sir. It was like, so real. You know the kind I mean?

Steve looked at Mark and nodded. Yes. The kind where in the dream you think you’re awake but you’re not. He folded the newspaper in half and laid it on the table.

Yes sir, that’s the kind. Mark yawned and rubbed his eyes. The first part was kind of all right. I was just trying to find my way to school, only I didn’t know the way. I was lost in some kind of a desert only it was weird. It was too hot, even for a desert. It had rocks and junk all over. And… there was this mountain in the distance. Mark paused here and then finished hurriedly, I knew I had to go to school, but I couldn’t. I was lost. I didn’t know the way.

Steve looked at Shirley. They both had a prickle of trepidation. Was this the beginning of the prediction that the hooded man had spoken of, or was it just Mark’s natural apprehension of starting junior high school next year?

Steve pulled a chair out for Mark to sit in.

Well, let’s see. Being in the desert is kind of a normal dream. Feeling lost is kind of a normal dream too, and dreaming about a mountain up ahead is kind of common. You see a mountain looks big and imposing. It makes you think that you can never cross it. Being lost in the desert with a mountain being the only landmark, that leaves you only one way to go. The way to solve the problem is to go toward the mountain. You cross a mountain one step at a time.

Mark said, I think I understand. Only he didn’t, not really. He knew that the dream had meant much more than just that. The dream had the feel of being important, very important.

Well now, let’s see if we can tackle the other part of the dream.

This part was different, but kind of the same. I was in this school and everywhere that I went there was this big voice. It kept telling me I was going to die. I tried to get away but I couldn’t.

Baby was soooo scared.

Steve looked at James. Knock it off.

James frowned. Yes, sir.

Tell me what the school was like.

The school was different from any school I’ve ever heard of. It had marble walls and big crystal hanging light things. It felt good to be out of the desert, someplace cool. I don’t know if it was in the mountain from the first part or not. I couldn’t see outside; there weren’t any windows. It had this really long hall with lots of doors and I knew some rooms had really bad things in them. I knew I had to stay out of those rooms. I couldn’t get away from the voice that… Mark hesitated about saying the voice was in his head, saying instead, It was everywhere, that voice. It hated me. It kept telling me I was going to die.

Steve paused for a moment. It sounds to me like you might be a bit concerned about leaving grade school this year and starting junior high school next year. You don’t know what to expect. Anytime you change from something that is familiar to something that is unfamiliar, well, it’s a little strange feeling, maybe a little scary at times. You did start school a year earlier than most kids. It might be that deep down you’re feeling like you won’t be up to the task. What do you think?

Maybe you’re right. I never thought of it like that. Thanks. Mark knew that his father’s explanation about this dream should have been right, but his inner voice told him that it wasn’t.

Everyone had just about finished breakfast. Steve said, You guys are running late this morning. Go ahead and get ready for school.

The dream was still fresh in Mark’s mind when he went to school that day. The school turned out to be the same as it had always been and he was glad that it was. The beige cinderblock walls sported a few bulletin boards and display cases. The terrazzo floor exhibited the same old and worn appearance. The faint musty smell of old paper and the unpleasant smell of copy machines lingered in the hall. Unlike his dream, spring green filled the large windows that still dominated the outside wall of his classroom. This school was nothing like the one in his dream and that reassured him that it really had been only a dream. It felt like finally being home after a really bad day when everything that could go wrong, did.

* * *

Steve and Shirley seized the opportunity to go horseback riding while the boys were in school. Shirley Young was Mark’s mother, twenty-nine on both of her last two birthdays, and she still looked like she was no older than eighteen. Sun-ray colored strands flowed across her shoulders like a magazine model’s, and her gentle azure eyes always reflected a deep felt love of all the wonders of nature. Her smile warmed even the coldest winter day. It had been here, in this very park, that Shirley had discovered her true purpose in life. To her, keeping her family safe and secure was all that really mattered.

Shirley, being raised in Georgia and then moving to North Carolina, had southern charm dripping from her voice. North Carolina had given her the habit of calling everyone honey or hon, something that even after thirteen years of marriage; Steve couldn’t quite get used to.

She held the reins lightly as her horse ambled along the familiar wooded path. The sweet smell of spring pine and daffodils wafted on the morning breeze. It was beginning to look like it would be a perfect day. It had started this same way twelve years ago. Tomorrow would complete the twelve years.

Honey, can you believe it? Tomorrow Mark will be twelve years old.

It seems like yesterday.

Steve Young was Mark’s father. His square jaw and huge biceps were standard Marine issue, nothing remarkable there. The remarkable thing about Steve was his voice. His voice was a remnant of being raised in Scotland during his formative years. He had never lost that sweet melody even though he spent the latter part of his life in the Southern United States. That southern drawl never did take hold.

Steve was just about to complete his third tour of duty. Events of recent history had kept him deployed for the most part. He loved to spend what little time he had stateside with his family, and he always wanted to make the most of it. To Steve, being a practical, down to earth, get the job done kind of guy was what life was all about.

Do you think he’ll like his new bike?

Yeah, he’ll love it. It’s the best there is.

Shirley stopped. Steve brought his mount up beside her and his eyes smiled at her.

While we are on the topic, Mark’s birthday that is, we have never fully discussed what happened here, twelve years ago.

Steve’s eyes narrowed. Why do we need to discuss it? What’s to discuss?

Steve. She hesitated. That horse broke both of your legs. I heard them break. When I woke up, you were healed. What happened?

That’s not all that horse did. He put his hand on his collarbone. My left collarbone was smashed, broken ribs, too. That horse hit me so hard; I know I had internal injuries. He remembered the taste of blood gurgling up from his throat. Steve’s training as a Marine had taught him to assess his injuries. That taste definitely meant he was bleeding inside.

Oh hon! I didn’t know.

Here’s the kicker, that horse wasn’t after me. She was hell bent on getting to you.

What makes you say that?

I tried to get her to come after me. When I moved, she focused on you.

So that’s what you were doing. You dove back in front of her to keep her from getting to me.

Yeah… Now you know. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. He tapped the horse with the reins to get it going again.

Why don’t you want to talk about it?

I just don’t.

Shirley started to speak, but Steve stopped and spoke before she could. He knew that she wasn’t going to leave it alone. He turned the horse to face her.

You know, throughout my life there has never, ever been a situation where I couldn’t act in order to make a difference.

But honey, it was you that acted. What you did saved us both.

That’s not what I mean. I’ve been shot, blown up, run over, half-drowned, folded, spindled and mutilated and whatever else you can think of! I have always been able to turn the tide! ME! Always, every time… every single time, except this one time. The one time that it meant the most to me to be able to act, I was the one who needed rescuing! The impact of his fist in his hand let her know how serious he was.

She looked deep into his eyes. I guess that it has been eating at me too. I mean, there you were on the ground, broken and bleeding, and I was helpless to do anything. I think I kind of know what you are saying.

No! You don’t understand… I failed! I tried to save the most precious thing in the world and I failed! Do you understand what that means?

Honey, you didn’t fail. Your courage bought us a few precious moments of hope. If it weren’t for that, then it would have been too late for those two guys to help us.

Steve looked down and shook his head. She didn’t understand. Those two guys being there was just a fluke. It wasn’t something that you could depend on. Being a soldier that could get the job done was something that you could depend on. Failure usually meant the death of what one held dearest. He knew that he needed to change the subject. He calmed his tone.

While we’re on the topic, there is something else you don’t know.

What do you mean?

I had come around for a few minutes. Tim, the big one, told me that our son would have to leave home and go to an unusual school.

Unusual school? What unusual school?

He didn’t say. He did say that it would happen when Mark was twelve.

Well, I’ll tell you this; Mark isn’t going to any school that we don’t approve first.

We might not have any say in the matter.

How can we not have any say? We’re his parents.

I don’t know, but he told me that I would know what to do, when I needed to do it.

And you believed him? You don’t even know who these guys are!

He said they were Magi.

Magi? What do you mean, Magi?

You saw what they could do.

Yeah, but… Magi?

Yep, that’s what he said. He also said that I could trust anyone that says ‘The best people are born in stables.’

We have heard that a lot.

Yep. It’s not your common everyday saying.

Coincidence. That’s all it is.

Maybe, maybe not.

* * *

After school, the dream had faded from his memory, for the most part. Friday afternoons brought a chore that he didn’t mind so much. His father had assigned this chore in the third grade. Mrs. Jenkins is an elderly lady. It’s hard for her to get around. I want you to stop by her house every Friday, on the way home from school. You check to see if there is anything that you can do for her. If she offers to give you money, you refuse. Rain or shine, you do this.

Mark had no idea how old Mrs. Jenkins was. He knew that she lived alone on a small income. He also knew that his dad had been right when he had told him not to charge her for anything. Mrs. Jenkins was a nice lady. He enjoyed helping her. There weren’t too many things that she could do for herself. Today, she was out of bread and milk.

Mark was on the way back from the store when he saw Keith Green and his cohorts standing in the street up ahead. Keith Green always meant trouble for Mark. Keith Green always meant trouble for anyone smaller than he was.

Keith was a year older than Mark and twice Mark’s size. Mark thought that he might stand a chance at winning a fair fight against Keith, but with Keith, it was never fair, and it was always a fight. Keith had been in many fights. Every one he had started. Everyone he and his buddies had won. Never was Keith anywhere to be found without his buddies.

Mark, Mark. Keith was letting him know that he was the next target.

Mark heard one of the cronies say, Hah! Sounds like a harelip dog. Mark, Mark… Mark, Mark, Mark.

Mark walked to the other side of the street. Beaufort, a ferocious German Shepherd ran to the fence that kept him in his yard. He always tried to bite anyone who got too close to his chain link fence. Vicious, he would bite at the fence, snarling, barking, twisting his head in fits, trying to rip a hole through the chain links.

Keith and his gang crossed to block Mark’s path. Hi, Mark. I just want you to meet one of my new friends. The group surrounded Mark and Keith pointed to the new guy. He turned to see who Keith was pointing out.

Mark only felt the blow that hit his mouth. White flashed in the back of his eyes. He felt his head wrench around from the force of the impact. The bag he was carrying hit the pavement. Anger swelled in him. He thought to return the punch.

This is Rick. He don’t like tattletales. Neither do I.

Someone kicked the bag that he had dropped. Milk splattered everywhere. Mark felt a hand push him back. He tripped over someone kneeling behind him and fell over backwards. Hands grabbed him. He felt himself flying through the air. They were throwing him over the fence.

The ground came up and hit him hard. He scrambled to right himself only to find himself looking square into Beaufort’s foamy grin. He didn’t dare move.

Keith’s voice came from behind him. You said that if you ever saw anyone stealing, that you would tell. You better think that over.

Keith made sure that Mark understood what this was about. Mark had never told on anyone for anything. That particular situation had never come up. Mark thought to himself, I just said when the teacher asked, What would you do if you saw someone stealing? that I would tell. What was I supposed to say? My teacher asked that question in class and Keith isn’t even in my class. How did he find out?

Mark stayed as still as he could while he and Beaufort eyeballed each other and the bullies strolled off, laughing. He didn’t risk even a swallow. You don’t want to attack me, boy.

Something in Mark’s mind told him that Beaufort wasn’t going to harm him. In fact, somehow he knew that Beaufort wanted to go after the other guys. He was waiting for permission from Mark to do just that. It was a thought and a feeling that had just popped into his head, nowhere near logical, but he knew it, none-the-less.

Mark knew that if Beaufort jumped the fence and bit someone that Beaufort would be in a lot of trouble. Instinctively, tentatively, he reached out and scratched the dog behind the ear. He looked over his shoulder. That’s okay, boy. They’re gone now.

That night, before bed, Mark went to James’s room.

What do you think it all means? I mean my dream. Mark sat on James’s bed.

I don’t know. It sure is strange. Dad’s probably right.

Mark shrugged. Yeah, I guess you’re right. What’s junior high like?

Well… it’s different than grade school. Like instead of being in one class all the time, you get different classes and different teachers and all. There isn’t any recess but there’s gym class. It’s not the same, but it’s pretty cool. The best thing is lunch. If you don’t like what they serve in the main line, you can get into the hamburger and fries line!

You’re kidding! He gave James a friendly push.

No, for real. They usually have really good stuff in the main line, too.

What kind of stuff?

Yesterday we had pizza. The day before there was chicken-fried rice. Their meatloaf isn’t that good. Mom’s is better.

What’s it like having different classes?

At first it was kind of… scary. You know, like in your dream. See, they give you this piece of paper with all of your classes on it with the times and room numbers and everything. I used to dream, sometimes, that I had lost the piece of paper and couldn’t find my way to class, but it was only a dream. It doesn’t take long to remember where all of the classes are. It’s automatic, like waking up and going down stairs. After a while it’s like… James searched for another word, then shrugged and repeated, Just automatic.

Mark pondered for a moment before asking, What are your classes like?

Well, first there’s homeroom. That’s where they take the roll and give announcements. Then I have history with Mr. Taylor. It’s kind of boring. Then there’s Mrs. Hampton in language class. She’s really nice. Then gym class with Coach Trimble.

James deepened his voice to imitate Coach Trimble. You’re going to do calisthenics and more calisthenics.

Next is lunch. Then comes music with Mrs. Byrd. Her class is okay but I’m not any good at music. Then there’s science with Mr. Gardner. He makes you take a lot of notes. Last is math with Mrs. Peabody. Math is kind of easy with her. She explains everything.

It sounds okay.

Yeah, it’s okay. You get five minutes between class bells. That’s enough time so that you don’t have to carry all of your books around all of the time. You don’t get a desk to put all of your books in, like in grade school. You get a locker in the hall. You go to your locker between classes and change books and stuff. It’s neat because you get to talk to your friends. It’s not like having to wait until recess. Everybody gets out of class at the same time and goes into the halls to their lockers. It’s different than grade school, but it’s better.

It sounds like they don’t treat you like a little kid anymore.

Well, they still treat you like a kid but not as much. You get to do more stuff, but they definitely don’t treat you like a grown up.

It doesn’t sound scary.

It isn’t scary, just different.

There was a knock on the bedroom door and their mom’s voice sounded muffled. Young man, you’re supposed to be in your own bed.

Yes ma’am.

Mark got up and started toward the door. He turned toward James. Thanks.

James smiled. You’re welcome, Dweeb.

Chapter 2

The Day of Twelve

Fate, Destiny, Happenstance, Luck. What’s the difference?

That night, Mark knew that he was dreaming. The dream seemed real again. It was like he was awake, only he knew he wasn’t. This time, the desert looked bleak but felt warm and somehow inviting. A goliath of a man stood beside him, silhouetted against the sky’s piercing sun. Before him, a terraced, wedding-cake like mountain was a stark contrast to the flat, sandy, rock strewn, desert floor. The wall was behind him encircling the land for as far as he could see. It didn’t seem hot this time.

The huge man gestured toward the mountain with his hand. This is The Seventh Mountain. He looked back at Mark. You have been chosen to go to school here. Most students are just called to go here. They have a choice. You can leave if you want, but no one has ever wanted to.

Why me?

It is a part of who you are and who you will become.

Who are you?

My name is Tim.

Mark turned to look at the man again. Tim stepped out from in front of the sun. Royal blue eyes glowed in his boulder face. His ebony hair was pulled back into a ponytail and his well-groomed beard hedged his beaming smile.

Mark felt that he should know this man. It was more of a feeling than a knowledge. There was something familiar about him, something familiar, yet distant, eroded by time, hidden in the shadows of his mind. Was this man friend or foe?

There is something else that you need to see. Tim waved his hand and the scene changed. This is what happened the day that you were born.

He watched his parents walk in the park, hand in hand, to the horse stable. The events that followed held him, mesmerized, waiting, hoping that it would be all right in the end.

When you tell your parents about this dream, I want you to say something to them. Say, ‘Only the best people are born in stables.’ You tell them that, you hear?

Mark sat bolt upright in bed. The second part of the dream had been surreal. He had watched the events unfold as a spectator. It hadn’t been a normal dream. He wasn’t part of the action. Mark tried to remember if his parents had ever told him the story of his birth. He had never heard the tale.

Steak and eggs, the aroma beckoned Mark to join his family downstairs. That was his favorite breakfast, after all. Today was not just any old day, either. This very day he became twelve years old. Today he embarked on the journey from childhood to manhood. His family would be waiting for him to emerge so that they could commence the celebration.

His dad was right where he expected him to be, reading the paper at the table, acting like today was just any other old day. His mom was cooking breakfast. James was nowhere to be seen which meant that he could tell about this new dream without being taunted by his older brother. Mark sat in the chair across from his father.

I had a scary dream last night. I mean, it wasn’t scary for me; it was scary for you guys. He pointed at his parents. I dreamed about a storm. This horse tried to kill you. Only the horse wasn’t trying to kill you. It wanted to kill me.

James had tiptoed down the stairs behind Mark. No one had noticed him. He sat down on the stairs to listen to Mark tell about his dream. James had an unusual dream, too. That was what had kept him upstairs this morning. He had to check on some things. Things that seemed too far-fetched to be true, yet…

Steve laid the paper on the table. That was the day that you were born.

I know. That was in the dream, too.

Come over here and sit down. I’ll tell you the story.

Mark got up and sat on the same side of the table as his dad. Okay. The guy in my dream said I should tell you something. He said that the best people are born in stables.

Crash! — Shirley dropped the plate that she was carrying. Ceramic fragments scattered over the hardwood floor. What did you say?

The guy in my dream, Tim, said for me to tell you that the best people are born in stables. What does it mean? Did he mean me?

I don’t believe it. This is not happening. It can’t be.

It was just a dream, Mom. Get a grip.

That’s no way to talk to your mother, son.

Yes sir. Sorry… but it was just a dream, Dad.

Let me tell you the story. Then you tell me what you think?

Okay.

Twelve years ago, today, your mother and I were walking hand and hand through that park up on the east side. We were just there yesterday. That’s funny, I can’t remember what it’s called.

White Oak. Shirley was busy cleaning up the shards from the plate she had dropped.

White Oak Park. That was one of my last days at home before I had to ship out.

Where’d you go?

Middle-East, so, you see, I wanted to spend as much time with your mother as I could.

Mark looked at his mom. She smiled.

Your mother was almost ready to give birth to our child. That would be you.

I know that.

I thought, even as much as I wanted to, I wouldn’t be home for your birth. A lot I knew.

I was born right there in the park.

That’s right. I was so wrapped up in just being there with your mother. I remember thinking of how bright her blue eyes were. Your mom loves horses, so we strolled over to the horse corral and stables. I hadn’t noticed the clouds forming over head.

I like horses, too. Can I learn how to ride?

We’ll see. Your mom couldn’t ride then. I guess you already know that too?

Uh-huh.

Even though she couldn’t ride, in her advanced condition, she enjoyed just being around them. I remember, she smiled at me, you know, the kind of smile that says ‘I know something that you don’t know.’

Yeah, she does that a lot.

I remember that day like it was yesterday, the pleasant cool breeze, and the warmth of the sun. I wanted to savor every moment before I had to go.

How long were you gone?

Almost a year. I wasn’t back long either before I had to ship out for somewhere else, not a nice place either.

Shirley began setting the table. He made sergeant after that. He got to stay home more then, because of training.

All right, back to the story. Your mother said, ‘I wish that you could be here when your son is born.’ I barely noticed when a low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.

The storm’s getting ready to start.

Let me tell the story… I said, ‘What makes you so sure it’s going to be a boy. The doctor didn’t let it slip, did he?’ I think that some doctors might feel that it is important for the parents to know the gender of the child before it’s born, so that they can prepare. Your mom and I had agreed that we wanted to be surprised. We would love and cherish you, whichever you were.

I’m glad I was a boy.

"Your mother looked at me with a sly smile across her lips, ‘Oh, I just know. Nobody told me.’ The breeze was picking up. It had the heavy feel of rain.

"Your mother pointed at the horses and said, ‘The horses are acting strange.’ She had a touch of apprehension in her voice. ‘Look at that bay over there. It’s scared. You can see the white in her eyes. She wants to bolt, but there is no place for her to run. All of the other horses are doing short circles. They want to run away, too.’

I looked up when I felt the mist on my face. The clouds seemed menacing. I was just about to speak when, BOOM! A bolt of lightning struck a pine tree not fifty yards from where we were standing. That tree, every bit of ninety feet tall, exploded straight down the middle. The thunder rattled our bones. Small shards of wood pelted us. I grabbed your mother to keep her from falling over. The concussion from that blast was that strong. I placed myself between her and the tree while I scanned for some place to take cover.

That’s when you went in the stable.

Not quite yet. Another bolt struck another pine tree not ten yards from the previous one. It reminded me of taking incoming artillery fire. Our bones quivered and splinters peppered us again. The tumultuous downpour started. We needed cover, now. We were caught in a microburst. I knew it. I’d been caught in one before.

What’s a microburst?

It’s like, well, imagine blowing on an anthill through a straw. Now imagine yourself as an ant caught in that blast. Add rain, hail, lightning, and gut-wrenching fear. That about says it all. That’s what a microburst is like. It’s not fun.

Like a tornado?

Kind of, some people call it a straight-line tornado.

That’s scary.

Yeah, it is. The three-sided stable didn’t offer much cover but it was all we had. I nodded toward the stable. I grabbed your mother. Without hesitation, we both made our way through the corral fence and into the stable. You might say we were well motivated.

I bet.

Lightning flashed again. Thunder pounded. I couldn’t see where it had struck. It had been very close, too close. I felt the tingle in my legs.

You were struck by lightning?

"No, but it was close. The wind started. I knew it would. Every single treetop that we could see snapped right off in a straight line as if some giant, invisible flying saucer had flown through the tops of the trees. The stable shook. Large sheets of metal roofing were being torn off and flying away. Your mom and I huddled in the corner of a stall. Lightning flashed about every ten seconds. Objects exploded with every flash. Every thunderclap penetrated us to the very core. I thought that the wind might blow us away. I had to work fast. I took my wet shirt off and tied one end of the shirt to a stall post that was set into the ground. The other end of the shirt I tied around your mom’s ankle. I lashed my leg to the post with my belt. Your mother sobbed. I thought it was fear, I hadn’t realized that she had started childbirth.

"I knew that a microburst was a short-lived event, less than twenty minutes. At most, we had less than fifteen minutes left to tough it out. Fifteen minutes can be an eternity when you’re under fire. We were relatively safe in the corner of the stable. Well, as safe as we could be anyway, all things considered. I remember praying, ‘Father be with us now, cover us, and keep us safe.’

"The wind ended. It had seemed like forever, but it had been only about ten minutes. The lightning was still striking but nowhere as near as close or as frequently as it had been. The rain had quit altogether.

I straightened up and started to look around. The first thing that I noticed was that the stable was still mostly intact except for the roof at the far end. I turned to look and came nose to nose with that bay colored horse. Her eyes were wide with fear. She whinnied and reared.

I know. I saw it in my dream.

"I tried to dodge her hooves but my leg was still lashed to the post. I couldn’t move much. I knew that I had to keep the horse’s attention on myself and away from your mother. I heard your mother sigh a little. The first hoof hit me on the right side of my chest. Broken ribs. The second hoof hit my shoulder. I heard my collarbone snap. I went down. The horse reared again. I managed to loosen the belt and free my leg. I was thinking that if I moved to the side the horse would follow me and not see your mom. I tried it. The horse didn’t follow me. She was fixed on your mother. It was about then that I noticed two hooded figures just outside the stable. I dove toward your mother to protect her from the hooves. I called out, ‘Help me.’

Your mother had looked just in time to see the bay horse rearing and me diving toward her. She scrambled to back away. The hooves came down on the back of both of my legs. Both of my femurs snapped. I felt the pain. I saw in that instant your mom’s predicament. She was still tied to the post. She couldn’t get away. I managed to get my pocketknife from my pocket before I lost consciousness.

Shirley sat the platter of breakfast steaks and scrambled eggs on the table. I remember it like it was yesterday. The horse started to rear up again. I reached for the knife. One of the hooded figures entered the stall. I quickly opened the knife. Another contraction hit me. The hooded figure interposed himself between the horse and me. I heard him yell ‘Burn it now!’ I remember that because I thought it was very odd. What was he supposed to burn, the stable? Lightning struck just outside of the stable.

Mark exclaimed, Yeah! It hit the fence post right where Tim was!

Shirley continued. The hooded figure hopped around in front of the horse with his arms waving. He was saying something that I couldn’t quite make out. Smoke started to come into the stable. Evidently the last lightning strike had started a fire.

It did! Tim was burning something.

It stunk, like fish burning on the grill. The horse cried out, crumpled down onto its front knees and rolled over onto its side. It let out a long sigh then lay still, like it was dead.

It wasn’t dead. In my dream, I saw it leave.

"The hooded figure turned toward me, and then toward your dad. He looked at me again and pulled back his hood. He was a young man, barely eighteen I guess. He had long, flowing, blond hair and deep green eyes. He said, ‘My name is Gerod. Don’t be afraid, we’re here to help you.’

Another huge hooded figure came into the stable. He pulled back his hood. He was an older man with thick black hair and a full beard. This was very much in contrast with his intense, very blue eyes. ‘My name is Tim,’ he said.

That’s the guy in my dream!

Another contraction hit me. I must have grimaced at the pain. In two strides Gerod, the blond kid, was at my side. He looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘Don’t worry, the best people are born in stables.’ With that he gave me a smile and a wink. ‘You just lay back. Everything is going to be all right.’

That’s why Tim said that I should tell you that.

"I was worried about your dad. I saw what that horse had done to him. ‘What about Steve?’

Don’t you fret one bit. Tim is going to take care of him. You just lie back, and let’s bring this baby into the world.

"There was something about his voice that I just trusted him. I can’t explain it.

"He reached deep into a pocket of his robe. He took out a small bottle, put some of the liquid on his finger and rubbed my forehead with it. I felt a deep reassuring peace settle over me. When I woke up, I was cradling a newborn baby boy in my arms. Your dad was kneeling at my side.

"I was dumbfounded. His legs had been broken. I looked at his legs. They looked all right. I said, ‘Your legs!’

"He said, ‘Shhh… I’m all right.’ I found out later that he was baffled, too.

"Just then a park ranger jeep pulled up outside.

"The ranger called out, ‘Hello! Anyone here?’

"Your dad called to the ranger, ‘We’re over here.’

"The ranger strode over to the corner stall where your dad and I were. ‘Well, well, well, what have we here?’

"Your dad said, ‘Well, there were only two of us in here before the storm.’

The ranger looked at you, your dad and me. He smiled while saying, ‘I hear tell that the best people are born in stables.’

Steve looked at Mark. That’s how it happened. We never saw the two strangers again. We never figured out who they were. When I woke up, that horse was gone too. We’re still baffled about the whole thing. I don’t think that we’ll ever figure it out.

Mark looked at his dad. That’s exactly the dream I had last night, only, I was up in the air watching the whole thing. In the first part of the dream, Tim, the big guy, with the blue eyes, was in it. He showed me a mountain. He said that I was chosen to go to school there. I had to go there, I didn’t have a choice. He said that the school was a part of who I am and who I will become. What do you think it means?

I don’t really know, Mark. Tim told me the same thing. I came around a little, while he was working on me. He told me that it would start to happen when you were twelve years old.

Wow! That was some story. James stood up and stepped off the stairs. All eyes turned to James. No one said anything. James walked up and handed Mark a piece of paper. Happy birthday, misc.

Steve said, What’s a misc?

You know. It’s like when you’re sorting stuff. It’s the things that don’t fit into any other category.

James felt more like the misc after the dream that he had last night. He knew that his dream had been significant, not like any other dream that he had ever had or even heard of, until today.

He had sat on the stairs and listened to the story of Mark’s birth. Mark had dreamed about his birth and it had been absolutely accurate. James was almost certain now that his dream and what he had found out as a result was probably true as well; he just didn’t want to believe it.

Mark looked at the slip of paper. It read, FREE HINT—DIG. He recognized it immediately as an anagram.

Steve said, What is this?

Shirley was setting the rest of breakfast on the table.

Mark said to his dad, James likes games. I suspect this is a clue to where my birthday present from him is.

Shirley said, James! That’s not very nice. How would you like it, if I made you clues for you to find your breakfast?

Mark interrupted, It’s okay, Mom. We do this kind of thing all the time. James loves anagrams.

James said, It’s part of the present, Mom. It’s just a short treasure hunt.

Shirley said in a half scolding tone, All right then, sit down. It will have to wait until after breakfast.

Steve looked at everyone around the table before he bowed his head and asked the blessing.

After breakfast Mark went and got the Scrabble® tiles and went to work on the first clue. Unscrambled, the first clue, FREE HINT—DIG was an anagram for IN THE FRIDGE.

Mark went to the refrigerator and retrieved the second clue. The second clue read, OUCH—CREED HUNT. After a few minutes and several wrong answers, Mark had deciphered the second clue as UNDER THE COUCH.

He looked under the couch and found another slip of paper that read YONDER—U—BO. It took a little longer and much more careful thought for Mark to decrypt the message into ON YOUR BED.

Mark returned with the brightly wrapped present in his hand. He was surprised to see a brand new bicycle standing in the kitchen.

Mark laid the present from James on the table and examined the bike. Wow! A freestyle… with all the extras! Wow! Thanks Mom! Thanks Dad! This is awesome!

Steve said, Well, you have another present here. Go ahead and open it so you won’t be late for school.

James and Mark said in unison, Today is Saturday!

Steve looked a little embarrassed. Oh… I guess I forgot.

Mark opened the other present. It was obvious what it was before he had half finished tearing the paper off.

Shirley cried out softly, looking mildly horrified at James. Oh, honey! That’s yours. You can’t give that away. That’s meant for you.

It was the family Bible. It had belonged to Steve’s great, great, great grandfather. He had brought it with him when he came over from Germany. It was even written in German. His instructions, written in English, in the front of the Bible, were to pass it to the first born on their eighth birthday. James had received it from Steve on his eighth birthday just as Steve had received it on his eighth birthday.

James said, It’s okay, Mom. It rightfully belongs to Mark anyway.

Shirley’s mouth dropped open and she looked over at Steve. Steve looked at James and said, What makes you say that, son?

It’s okay, Dad. I know the truth. It’s okay.

What truth are you talking about?

James started slowly, I had this dream. The guy in the dream is, well… kind of special. He has long blond hair, green eyes and when he talks you just know that everything is all right. His name is Gerod. I think he’s the same guy from when Mark was born. I knew when I heard the story of Mark’s birth that I was doing the right thing.

In my dream he waved his hand in front of me. Then I could see you, Dad, holding a baby. You were talking to the baby and I heard you say, ‘It’s going to be okay, James. It’s going to be okay. Your momma and your poppa have been killed. You are going to stay with me and be my son. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you. You’ll be my son.’ I knew the baby was me.

Steve started to speak, but James held up his hand. He was having trouble believing that it could be true. After all, he was Mark’s older brother and had always been as far as he could remember.

There’s more.

James reached for the Bible and opened it to the family-tree section. His hand was a little shaky. If what was happening was true, he didn’t want to believe it.

The guy in my dream told me to look here. He said that my name was not recorded here, but that Mark’s was. He told me that this Bible was supposed to be Mark’s. That it was part of his providence.

James paused and waited for a response that never came, so he continued. He was hoping that someone would say that it was all just a dream.

He waved his hand and I saw him helping mom in the stable, just like you and mom just said. I didn’t understand that part of the dream until now. His friend was helping you. You looked dead at first, but then you were all better. Then he told me, ‘The best people are born in stables.’ I thought that was strange until I heard the story. I really felt weird listening to you describe it and all, after I had just dreamed it too.

It seemed the longest time before anyone spoke. Steve took a deep breath and broke the silence.

James, your father was my best friend. We were in the Marines together. We were in the same squad. We were in Africa at the time. Where we were was not a nice place to be.

Steve spoke matter-of-factly to quell the emotion that flamed in his chest. Your father, his name was James too, got a message that your mother, Tiffany, had been killed in a car crash. His chopper had just taken off to start his trip home to be with you when a rocket-propelled grenade hit it.

Steve frowned hard and gave a short sniff. His eyes began to water. His hands clenched together tightly and he took another deep breath.

There were no survivors. The pain of the memory furrowed his brow. He bowed his head and paused.

James looked at Shirley. She sat across the table from him, her eyes beaming a mother’s love at James. Those events had scared her too; leaving a wound that could only be healed in the dusty shadows of faded memory. James had been a little over a year old just then, much too young to be told. Since then, there had just not been any right time to tell him and she supposed that there never would be. She so much wanted to hold him and make the pain go away.

James glanced toward Mark. Mark was standing with his eyes wide and mouth open.

Steve looked back up at James. I had the radioman work a telephone patch to Shirley. I told her what had happened. She went and got you from the center that you were in. When I got back home, we adopted you. Tiffany, your mother, was Shirley’s best friend, too.

I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU DIDN’T TELL ME!

You’ve been our son ever since, never anything less. Steve held his arms out to James.

He looked at Steve for the longest time before accepting his embrace.

Shirley stepped up and pried James from Steve’s arms, clutching him, trying to protect him with her love. Tears were still streaming down her face.

Honey, we didn’t tell you because it hurt so much.

Mark stood where he was, mouth open and breathing hard. The fact that James wasn’t his brother hit him brutally. He felt like he was ready to fight but there was nothing to fight. James was his older brother and nothing was going to change that.

* * *

Later that day, Steve and Shirley sat at the kitchen table. The boys were outside, trying out the new stunt bike. Mark was excited about it. He had been working on a new stunt that no one had ever done before and he wanted to show James. James’s opinion meant a lot to him.

Steve said, "Deep inside of me, I know what is starting to happen has to be part of some bigger plan. James said that Bible was part of Mark’s providence. James doesn’t use words like that."

Hon, listen to yourself. You sound as if you are resigned to the fact that Mark is leaving home tomorrow. You don’t even know if what this Tim said is true. Shirley didn’t want to believe what was happening was any more significant than rain on a Tuesday morning. If what was happening was true, then it was the beginning of the breakup of her family. Her whole purpose for living was her family.

Things are starting to happen. I wish I knew more, Steve said.

It’s just a lot of coincidence and wishful thinking, if you ask me.

Steve sighed, got up and walked to the refrigerator. I don’t know for a fact that what Tim said is true, but look at the evidence. Steve poured himself a glass of tea. Would you like anything from the fridge?

No, thanks… I have looked at the evidence. I’m still not convinced. There are other possible explanations, you know.

Steve came back and sat down at the table again. A freak storm when you were eight and a half months pregnant.

Weather happens.

A horse gone mad, down-right possessed if you ask me, trying to kill you. And, oh yes, it was after you, not me. I was just in the way.

Panic caused by the storm.

"Two guys, dressed like monks straight out of the twelfth century, show up out of nowhere. One of them acts as midwife for you and you sleep through the delivery. The other guy heals me of two very badly broken legs, a shattered collarbone, busted ribs and internal injuries. I wake up as if nothing had happened to me."

It’s possible that you weren’t injured as badly as you thought you were.

Okay, how did they calm that horse down? I don’t have a clue. I was totally out of it at that point.

Some people have a way with animals.

When he told me about Mark, it was nonchalant just like saying the rain had stopped. But I got the feeling that they were there for Mark. We were just incidentals.

Some people are strange.

Then… then James with his dream. Dead on, one hundred percent accurate. There are no ifs, ands or buts about it.

He probably saw the family tree section in the Bible. Even if he didn’t notice it consciously, his subconscious could have figured it out. That’s why he had the dream.

What about Mark? He didn’t get that information from us.

Maybe he heard bits and pieces, here and there. You know, just enough for him to put it together.

No. It’s too much. Whatever is starting to happen is very real and very mystical.

You could be right. I could be right, too.

As I see it, there are only two possibilities about this. It’s either good or evil. I, for one, don’t believe that it’s evil. If it’s good, then we have no place in standing against it.

Chapter 3

Clues of Fortune

Sometimes it’s the journey. Sometimes it’s the destination. Most often, it’s both.

School days ended and summer vacation settled over the residents of number one Trafalgar Court. Steve was enjoying his time stateside. He knew that it wouldn’t be much longer before he would be called to duty in the Middle East again.

He knew that he would have a couple more months at home; maybe as much as a year before the call came. He also felt that he wouldn’t have that much more time with his younger son, Mark. What the hooded man told him was true. He couldn’t explain why, but he knew it was true. Mark would be leaving home.

He wanted to do something special with the family before this happened. He thought that a vacation would be just the thing. He decided that he would bring the subject of a family vacation up at breakfast and let the family decide where to go. Maybe they would like to go on a cruise. Cruises are generally expensive,