by Mike Crowson
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The grass was rough and the ground uneven, but there were no actual obstacles until they came to the fence. There would be almost no moon tonight, just the last of the waning moon very late and close to dawn. There was some light from the stars but, although Manjy was carrying a torch, they had decided to forgo any light except in emergency and it was dark.
Alan stepped through the fence between the top and middle wire and held the wire up for Manjy and Gill.
"Thanks," whispered Gill as she stepped through.
"Now, look out for the city walls," whispered Alan, "They're less than a metre high here and no more than about two metres from the fence."
"Ouch," muttered Manjy. "I've found them."
"Okay," Alan told her. "I've found them too. Now get down from the wall and walk very carefully to the edge of the first building - about ten or twelve feet more - and jump down two foot six to the pavement. You'll fall if you miss it."
The three of them felt their way to the edge of the pavement and jumped down safely, Gill's bag making a slight 'clinking' noise as she landed.
"Okay. Now about twenty feet to the platform of the temple, two steps up to the base and another six or so steps from the base to the ruins of the temple itself," whispered Alan.
In the middle of the ruin was a stone block, which may or may not have been an altar - probably it was only a part of the collapsed roof - but at any rate a handy focal point and one whose long sides faced roughly north-south.
Gill put her bag on the floor and placed on the stone the plain dagger they had bought in Medina Sidonia, an ash tray they had 'borrowed' from the hotel there to use as a makeshift incense burner, the roll of charcoal blocks from the professor's briefcase and the four different jars of incense from the same source, along with the tarot cards and the papers. To them she added Manjy's torch and, from her own pockets, a long length of wool wound into a small ball and some matches.
"I hope that's everything," she said softly, taking the talisman from her pocket and putting it round her neck. "I feel as if I should be wearing a robe or something," she whispered, "but I'll have to make do with sweater and jeans."
"I thought witches danced around naked," Manjy whispered back.
"It's warm, but not warm enough for prancing about in the altogether," she answered. "Anyway, we're not witches. Well, not in the medieval sense anyway and this is essentially a medieval ritual." She swallowed hard, braced herself, whispered, "All right, let's begin," and lit the charcoal in the ashtray.
Alan and Manjy watched Gill as she first unwound the wool in a rough circle of about five metres diameter around them and then tied the ends of the wool. She sprinkled a little incense from the first jar onto the glowing charcoal before taking the dagger to the eastern edge of the circle.
Facing the east, she drew a pentagram - a five point star drawn with a continuous line - in the air with the dagger and pointed the dagger at the centre, where she whispered something, too quietly for Alan and Manjy to make it out. The three of them 'saw' the pentagram flickering blue - not a physical light: real, but not quite of this consciousness.
Gill dragged the knife through the still air to the south of the circle and drew a similar pentagram there. Again she whispered something and again the three imagined they could see it.
As Gill went to the west of the circle and again drew a pentagram in the air, they thought they could see the wool itself glowing where she had traced with the knife. Next she went to the north and repeated the action there and then completed the circle by returning to the east before returning to her 'altar'. She put down the knife and raised her hands in a 'V'.
"Around us flame the pentagrams and circle: Now that we are protected we seek the assistance of the powers and guardians of the paths of the inner self that we will tread." It seemed that the air glowed more than ever.
Hands still raised, Gill faced her stone. As she stood Manjy and Alan saw - with their minds rather than their eyes, but genuinely and involuntarily - the figure of a naked woman inside a great laurel wreath; an image from the last of the tarot trumps. The figure seemed to beckon, Gill lowered her arms and they passed through the wreath, the gateway to the path, and everything appeared as if bathed in a flood of violet light throwing the ruins into a brilliance seen only in the mind. Gill sprinkled incense from the second jar onto the charcoal and the air was filled with a sharp, cutting smell and their minds seemed more conscious of other realities while physical reality ebbed. There seemed no incongruity when an elephant trumpeted from the purple haze, stopped to gaze at them, flicked its mighty ears and then stomped away into the mist.
There appeared to be three paths before them. Gill took the middle path and the violet light faded. Beside the path there was a pool at which the image of temperance - a tall woman in grey robes, filling a chalice from a pitcher - established itself from surrounding uncertainty. They seemed to pause long enough to drink a sip of cold water offered to them before they passed on into a glowing yellow light. Gill again sprinkled incense on the charcoal and the air became heavy with a rich and opulent scent. A room began to emerge from their collective imagination. Manjy dimly realised that the collective experience, which would normally be obtained only in a lifetime of study and visualisation, was the result of drawing upon many lifetimes.
The room had six doors, including the one behind them by which they had entered, and the three became aware of a king seated on a golden throne, at the centre of the room. He pointed to the door just left of straight ahead. Gill took the door he indicated and led them onto the path. The yellow glow was left behind. This time there were three guardians of the path: a man and woman - the lovers of the tarot pack - and a shadowy figure looming behind them. The two people broke their absorption in each other long enough to welcome them as three passing travellers.
Thus it was they arrived at Binah. The air was a sombre dark blue and, except that it seemed to shut out the stars, it appeared much like the reality around the ruin. An older woman materialised in the mist, nodded in greeting and faded.
Gill lay down on the longer stone; Manjy and Alan stood at her head and feet. Gill fingered the talisman and Manjy opened the last jar of incense ready.
The astral is another, non-physical dimension. It is not time, and time seems not to apply. Nor, for that matter, does space - distances are irrelevant: the sleeper entering the astral world accidentally travels what would appear to be great distances to follow concerns or ambitions, but they are concerns not distances. He or she who enters deliberately suspends time and space and he or she who enters regularly has awareness of intruders and interlopers.
Gill gathered herself mentally to leave the safety and sanity of her body, Manjy heaped incense on the charcoal until the air reeked with a bitter, acrid scent which stripped the soul bare, and with an audible 'click' Gill passed into the astral.