'This whole place gives me the crawls,' Strom added.
'Things here may seem strange,' Benjin said, 'but if these people journeyed to the Godfist, they would find our ways just as strange. You'll get used to it.'
'I just want to see Catrin do whatever it is she's supposed to do, so we can all go home,' Chase said.
Benjin looked at the faces around him, knowing none of them would be going home soon, knowing their homes may no longer even exist, but he said nothing. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence.
The days and nights that followed were variations of the first few days, and Catrin enjoyed herself thoroughly, although she was not overly fond of shaving. Despite the lack of food, she seldom felt pangs of hunger. It was more the desire for taste and spice that gave her cravings than it was the desire for solid food. She lost count of the days and lost track of which doors in the hall led to which rooms. As she approached what she thought to be the final days of the cleansing, she was immensely proud of herself for having gone through with the process. It had been a scary thing to take on alone, and she felt strengthened by the experience.
When four monks, three female and one male, arrived for her one morning, Catrin anticipated the conclusion of the ritual. She followed the figures in respectful silence and did her best to perform her part. Although she had laughed and teased the monks during part of her time with them, she could feel the seriousness in the air. This was a sacred affair, and she was determined to show proper humility and respect. They took her to a narrow room with oddly shaped openings in the walls.
Without instruction, she climbed atop the table. Trying to center herself, she closed her eyes, took slow, deep breaths on the count of seven, and calmly addressed her thoughts. No one touched her, but she could feel the presence of hands above her head, feet, hands, and naval. She felt no pressure, but a warm tingling sensation infused her flesh as the energy shifted and moved.
Her meditation evolved into a deep trance, her body feeling as if it were waving back and forth without moving, and at first, she didn't notice the sound. Rhythmic music created by many voices chanting in harmony started low and soft, but it gradually grew in volume and intensity. There seemed to be no distinct words or meaning, and Catrin immersed herself in the deep bass vibrations. Two distinct chants merged around her: one came from the left, the other from the right. As one intensified, the other would subside, and gradually they reversed, creating a deep, pulsating sensation.
The joy of floating along the energy now swirling around her was magnificent, but it felt self-indulgent; she was here to be cleansed, not pampered. Beginning her meditation again, she concentrated on each thought as it came to her. Some were dark and challenging; others, light and amusing. Each one she processed and accepted before casting it away. Having become more adept at the process, and in the midst of the energy, she found it possible to admit and accept some very difficult things-things that would normally have driven her to tears.
Envisioning a fountain of energy flowing from her forehead to the sky, she poured all the hurt and pain from her soul into the wellspring. She allowed it to be as it would be and embraced the things that made her who she was. It seemed, at first, as if her fountain of anguish would flow forever, but it finally began to abate. As it dwindled, a pure flow of energy took its place. More and more, love and joyfulness washed away the pain. As the flow became pure joy, she cast it out in all directions, to be shared with everyone and everything. The energy poured through her and from her, and it felt as if a worn, dead shell were blasted away before the onslaught.
The next breath was like Catrin's first. Inhaling deeply, she savored every scent in the air, each one a marvel. The air around her body vibrated as if alive, and she kept her eyes closed, afraid to break the spell. As her mind settled, she found the center of her focus. It was a small dot in her consciousness that seemed far away at first, but she applied her will and flowed closer. It grew no larger as she approached; it just felt nearer.
When she could finally touch her center, it was sharp, like the tip of a pine needle. Catrin figured something so important should be larger; then maybe it would not get lost so often. As the energy surrounding her reached a crescendo, she applied it and her will in an attempt to enlarge her center of focus. It grew slowly at first, resisting the change, but the rate of growth became exponential, and on every breath it seemed to double in size.
Letting the energy flow, she experienced the life essence around her. As her energy field grew, it enveloped the monks. Using it, she expressed respect and love to them, and she thought she sensed reciprocation. Her consciousness expanded into the stone and began to encompass the rooms in the hall. She felt the mud baths, the rock basin, and still she flew outward. Feeling the life within the temple, she embraced it.
A nagging absence of life in one part of her awareness tugged at her, but she could not focus on it. As she tried to narrow her perceptions down to that feeling, she sensed ancient life in another part of her consciousness. The chanting began to grow softer, slowly and gracefully dissipating, denying Catrin the opportunity to investigate the strange sensations. She gradually drew her consciousness back in as she lost the ability to maintain her far- reaching center.
When her center shrank to the size of a melon, she grabbed on to it with her mind and solidified it. She imagined it as a large version of the polished onyx from the stone basin. It had weight and texture; it was solid and real. With a deliberate mental effort, she stored it in a very special location: floating atop the night-black stone at the center of the Grove of the Elders, which still existed in Catrin's memory.
Utter silence filled the room in the absence of chanting, and Catrin could no longer feel the monks contributing to her energy flow. Her body tingled and still seemed to vibrate long after the monks departed. Left to revel in the feeling of having been cleansed and remade, her body and consciousness sang. Gradually, the effects wore off, and exhilaration was replaced by weariness. Somewhere in between, she drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Chapter 11
True success is nearly impossible to realize alone. Seek out those who are skilled where you are weak, and together you will prevail.
'The boy has some good ideas here,' Gustad said as he looked at Strom's rough sketch.
'You replaced me with a stick?' Osbourne asked.
'A very special stick,' Gustad said. 'We'll need to grind the notch smooth so it won't bind.'
'The real magic is in the strap,' Strom said. 'We confine it to a narrow channel as it gets wound around the shaft. Every turn, the shaft becomes larger and increases the speed of the pour.'
'That just might work,' Milo said, a gleam in his eye. 'How soon can you have it done?'
The question was like a kick in the stomach, and Strom had no idea what to say. He'd been so excited about his idea, yet he really knew nothing of how to actually make it. Gustad stood mumbling over the drawing then began making his own markings.
'Forty days,' he said.
Strom smiled, allowing himself to hope. Maybe he, too, was meant to do something special. He looked back at his friend and the monk who remained in the room before he followed Gustad to the forge.
Osbourne watched as Milo pored over Strom's sketch and Gustad's markings. Seemingly without thinking, he moved the candle away from Milo's robes.
A gentle nudge brought Catrin from her slumber. A female monk helped her dress in a warm robe and soft, fur-lined boots then led her from the room. Unsure if she would be led to yet another room, she was hesitant to set
