(Search & Sitemap) (Search & Sitemap) > Writing > Assorted Creations > The Portal > An Encounter
The cathedral, from the outside, appears rather like any other cathedral, if somewhat small. The inside does not diminish this effect, but takes and transforms it into breathtaking beauty.
The most striking attribute of the cathedral is one of presence. The statues retain a sense of magnificence and power, but it is a power that is imminent.
The floor is covered with a vibrant and colorful mosaic. It is set according to perfect order, pattern within pattern within pattern. Out of the tiles rise statues of the saints who have gone before. The ordered symmetry of the tiles defines a place for the statues, showing each to be what it characteristically should be. Color plays over the saints who have walked before, and the saints who walk now.
The outlay of the cathedral follows tradition; it is cruciform, with the long arm to the West. It is now sunset, and the Eastern arm, housing the Eucharist and possibly some relics, is now hidden from sight, shrouded in mystery. The Northern arm, housing the figures who anticipated the light, is dark and cold. The Southern arm, filled with saints who danced in the light, is full of warmth. The Western arm, on which the sun is setting, speaks of the end of time. Mosaic tiles rise from the ground into bas-relief sculpture; the tiles give way to stained glass, through which the last deep rays of the sun flow. The stained sculpture shows the emerald throne surrounded by elders, the four horsemen, the plagues and woes of the Apocalypse, the final battle between Michael and the Dragon, the lake of fire, and the great city with the Tree of Life on either side of the luminous River.
There is a continual soft, gentle chant, and you do not realize how silent it is until the quiet is disturbed by the count of shouting and footsteps. "In the cathedral, they may have a balm." "What happened?" "Just because a guard is loyal doesn't mean that he won't be too eager to protect us from wild animals." "Couldn't good aim be accompanied by good judgment?" "The guard reacted too quickly, and had an arrow in this man's leg before realizing that it was a man instead of a boar." A small crowd comes into the cathedral, carrying a man with an arrow in his calf.
Sylvanus begins giving orders, calmly and coolly, but with great speed. "You two: go get a cot. You: go get a basin of warm water. You: go get some clean cloth. You: go get a bright torch. You..." Soon, the man is on a cot. Sylvanus takes his hunting knife -- a very sharp one -- and carefully cuts the head off the arrow.
"Why don't you let me tend to him?", Ceinwyn asks.
"Pardon me; I had forgotten that I was not alone."
Ceinwyn pours brandy over the wound. "This is still going to hurt some." She twists the arrow slightly, and pulls it out. The man does not make any sound, but his whole body stiffens because of the pain.
Ceinwyn pours the rest of the brandy over the wound. "That was the worst of it. The pain should grow less now."
She takes the basin, and opens a box of herbs, placing some in the warm water. Slowly, methodically, she takes the cloth, and begins to wipe over the wound. The blood and dirt are cleansed from the site. Then she sets down the cloth and basin. She lays hands on him, and prays.
The wound grows smaller, and then heals. After a few minutes, there is nothing but wholeness and strength.
The man thanks Ceinwyn, and then falls on his knees in gratitude to God. The crowd takes longer to realize what has happened, but grows very still when they recognize the miracle.
Finally, a priest who had been standing with the crowd comes forward. He is a grandfatherly old man with soft, gentle eyes, and a kindly smile. "Blessed be God; Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Come, let us go outside where it is still light, and talk."
Outside, the sunset is red tinged with many other colors, and the light of moon and stars is beginning to shine.
"It is clear that God is with you, and I would like to extend an invitation to you, to come to dinner and stay at my house." He pauses, as if about to say something more, and then begins to speak benedictions. He places his hand on blessing on Ceinwyn's head first, then Sylvanus's, then Nathella's, then Ola's, then finally yours.
"I would be truly honored if..." The priest continues to speak, but you are unable to concentrate on his words. You have been gifted with a second sense, one which can sometimes weigh the heart. When he placed a hand on your head, you did not feel the warm, human hand that you expected. Instead, you felt a gaunt, reptilian hand with scales and claws. It is cold, colder than water, colder than ice, colder than the blast of bitter wind on the most frigid winder night. You manage somehow to momentarily conceal your dizziness and nausea.
Do you speak, or remain silent?
(Search & Sitemap) (Search & Sitemap) > Writing > Assorted Creations > The Portal > An Encounter