Origin of the Body (The Legacy Trilogy Book 2)

by HR Moore

  Timi helped himself to tea, then turned to face Anita directly, ‘very well,’ he said, making no effort to hide his irritation at their refusal of his hospitality, ‘you’ve come to discuss the cylinder I presume?’

  Anita inhaled sharply, ‘how could you possibly know that?’ she asked, shock and confusion filling her energy.

  ‘There’s very little I don’t find out, one way or another,’ he replied, obliquely.

  ‘Very well,’ she said, the hostile edge she had resolved to banish returning in full force, ‘are you able to help us open it?’

  ‘So you’ve finally found it.’

  ‘Your information isn’t entirely up to date?’ she asked innocently, doing nothing to diminish its mocking intent.

  ‘I didn’t say I know everything, Anita.’

  ‘But you are involved with the Institution then? That’s the only way you could have found out.’

  ‘Yes, I’m involved with the Institution. That’s why Helena was happy for you to seek my help.’

  Anita rolled her eyes inwardly. ‘Yes, we’ve found it, but we can’t find a way to open it. Alexander gets thrown out of the meditation when we try and nothing we can think of will work.’

  ‘What have you tried so far?’

  Anita ran through the different scenarios they had tried, from mentally willing it to open, to physically trying to pry it open, to dropping it, to trying to find a way to twist it apart, to examining it for a secret button they had to press, to rolling it around on the floor in the vain hope it would suddenly just decide to pop open. Timi laughed at the last one.

  ‘Have you tired meditating with anyone other than Alexander to open it?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ she replied, ‘it seemed unlikely anyone we can trust would be more help than Alexander in a meditation.’

  ‘Hmm,’ he mused, ‘well I think the first step is that we should meditate together. I need to understand exactly what we’re looking at. We can meditate together this evening, after dinner, which of course you are all invited to have with me, in my private quarters.’

  Anita read Alexander’s energy to see what he thought of this suggestion, but it was resolutely stable, which either meant he was fine with it, or that he was purposefully covering up his feelings in front of Timi, which seemed to Anita the more likely of the two scenarios.

  ‘Fine,’ she said, ‘after dinner. But what about your research, or records of the old Spirit Leader? The one who gave the cylinder to Clarissa? It may be helpful to work our way through those as well, to see if there are any clues.’

  ‘I’ll do that only if and when it’s deemed necessary,’ said Timi, firmly. ‘I’m afraid only the current Spirit Leader is allowed to access those records and we may be able to open it without doing so.’

  Anita knew it was futile to protest, so didn’t bother, but this seemed stupid to her; it was more than likely there was something in those records that could help them. At that moment, a monk at least twice the age of Timi appeared at the top of the stairs, his robes dishevelled, his white, wispy hair blowing around in the breeze, his back a little stooped.

  ‘Ah, Jonathan, perfect timing as usual,’ said Timi, motioning to Jonathan to come closer. ‘Jonathan will show you to your quarters where lunch has been laid out for you. Then, if you would like, he will show you around or of course you can have a few hours rest before dinner, which will be at seven o’clock in my quarters this evening; Jonathan will show you the way.’

  They nodded and got up to follow the old monk back down the torturous staircase, Timi putting a hand on Draeus’ arm to stop him from leaving. ‘I’d appreciate it if you would stay a while longer,’ said Timi warmly, as Draeus sat back down, ‘I’d like to talk to you about supplies; there are a few things we’re running short of.’

  *****

  Jonathan showed them to their quarters, one of the turret like buildings they had walked past on their way in, the accommodation split over three floors. The top floor had a large double bedroom and bathroom, the middle floor had two single bedrooms and a bathroom, and the ground floor had a large seating area, dining area, and a small kitchenette off to one side. It was pleasant enough, although the décor was mismatched and old, most of the furniture missing slats and holes from years of wear apparent in the seat covers. The beds were made from spindly brass frames with mattresses that had seen better days, now sinking in the middle, ready to give anyone who ventured into them back ache come the morning. The rooms had odd layouts, a result of most of the walls being curved, pieces of furniture sticking out at jaunty angles, baths occupying the middle of the bathrooms, with other bathroom furniture squeezed haphazardly into the, not large enough, spaces left around. The curtains were thin and had been patched numerous times, light was provided only by flickering flame torches, and the stairs groaned nervously every time they were used, however, this gave the place a homely, cosy feel, in a rough around the edges sort of way. The windows thankfully had glass in them and a roaring fire on the ground floor seemed to somehow radiate heat up to the two floors above making the rooms, if not toasty, at least not cold.

  Anita and Alexander took the top floor room, dumping their belongings unceremoniously on the floor and quickly washing the travel dirt from their hands and faces before racing back downstairs. By the time they returned, Anderson was already tucking into the bread, meats, cheeses and pickles that had been laid out for them and had spooned out three bowlfuls of pumpkin and goats cheese soup. Anita ripped off some bread and tucked in greedily, relishing the warmth of the food as it slowly crept down her throat and into her ravenous stomach.

  They ate everything the monks provided, leaning back in their chairs, stuffed full, Anita contemplating a nap, when Jonathan returned to invite them on a tour. She wondered how he managed to turn up so exactly on cue, considering briefly the disturbing possibility they were being spied on, before following the monk out of the turret. Jonathan moved with surprising speed as he weaved through the maze of corridors, the three of them having to stride out to keep up. He showed them rooms for every purpose; large dormitories for sleeping, eating halls with long benches, communal wash rooms that looked like some kind of spa, complete with steam rooms and saunas, reading rooms, lecture theatres, research labs with all manner of interesting looking brass measuring devices, and most fascinating of all, rooms dedicated to meditating. There were a number of these located all over the Temple, each with different characteristics and a different impact on one’s energy, but all with a bowl of still water in the middle.

  ‘What’s the bowl of water for?’ asked Anita, curious. Alexander had never suggested they add one to their meditations.

  ‘They focus the energy in the room,’ said Jonathan, ‘sucking up any background energy noise so those meditating are less likely to be distracted by external energy influences.’

  ‘A bit like at the Observatory?’ Anita mused.

  ‘Yes,’ said Alexander, ‘exactly. Although they are only used by an adept few; those able to discern the impacts of outside energy on a meditation are extremely advanced.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Jonathan, ‘although even those more inexperienced in meditation can benefit from their presence when completing a solo meditation. It’s more likely that you’ll get distracted by external energy when attempting this, so the presence of a pool of water can greatly help.’

  ‘Why do people meditate on their own?’ she asked, curious. Although she had technically done it, she had never inquired why one might want to.

  Jonathan smiled indulgently; it astounded him how people these days were so poorly educated. ‘For a number of reasons. To try to find the solution to a problem that’s been vexing them; to understand themselves better by finding and understanding places in their minds; to develop skills they’ve been working on. It can be greatly beneficial to work on skills whilst meditating, as not only are you in a highly focused state, but you’re talking directly to levels of yourself you can’t ordinarily access. Some claim they’ve m
anaged to access their own subconscious, not that there’s much proof to support those claims, and I’ve certainly never met anyone convincing in this regard.’

  ‘Fascinating,’ said Anita, ‘and what other research takes place here?’ she asked, as they passed another lab packed full of whirring dials and boring looking monks.

  ‘Oh a number of things,’ he said, ‘from the effects of energy on crop production, to the interaction between personal energy and the energy in the immediate vicinity, to energy interruption and transfer.’

  ‘Energy transfer?’ asked Anita and Alexander together.

  ‘Well yes, of course,’ said Jonathan, ‘we’ve made some really interesting progress recently,’ he went on, looking at Anderson, whose energy spiked, although it was gone before Anita could fully make out the emotion.

  ‘Yes, we have,’ a second voice cut icily across the corridor. ‘Some of our research no doubt Timi will talk to you about later, and some we would rather keep to ourselves until our findings are a little more concrete.’ Jonathan’s energy had been static for the whole tour, but now Anita thought she picked up a flicker of something, fear perhaps. Maybe it was just because he wasn’t supposed to converse about their research with outsiders, or maybe there was something more sinister going on she considered frivolously, her mind flicking to determine what her best friend would do next. The problem was, they were being watched so closely, the likelihood of uncovering anything in this fortress was slim.

  *****

  They returned to their turret for the remainder of the afternoon, where they took long baths followed by naps, Jonathan turning up at five minutes to seven to escort them to dinner. To their surprise, they retraced their earlier steps, up the staircase to the area where they’d had tea when they’d first arrived. Anita gave Alexander a questioning look, surely they couldn’t be expected to have dinner out here in the freezing cold? Alexander smiled and shook his head, so Anita followed Jonathan and waited to see where they ended up.

  Jonathan led them past the mat on the floor where Timi usually sat to meditate, through the billowing fabric behind and down a short flight of shallow stone steps the other side. Here they stooped to enter a cave that had been hollowed out of the rock, then followed a low corridor into a small room beyond. The corridor and the room, like everywhere else, were lit by torches, the orange glow giving the place an enigmatic feel, and the room, like their turret, was filled with mismatched furniture at odd angles, although none of it looked nearly as comfortable as the items in their own quarters. They were greeted by Timi, who, along with Draeus, was sitting at a circular, wooden table in the centre of the room, a decanter full of a deep red coloured wine sitting between them. Other than that, there were only three pieces of furniture; a messy desk, covered in sheets of paper and brass instruments and two wooden benches, each with a couple of token cushions, which did nothing to make them look comfortable. The floor was however covered with rugs, which gave the room some semblance of warmth, but they were threadbare, the illustrious summers of their lives long gone, and nothing was going to block out the vicious drafts happily whistling through the glassless slit windows, their fur coverings, presumably designed for this task, failing quite completely. In the far corner, three or four rugs had been piled on top of each other with a single blanket over the top. Anita assumed this must be where Timi slept; she couldn’t think of anything more miserable, but he seemed to be in good enough spirits as he stood to greet them, opening his arms in welcome.

  ‘Good evening,’ he said enthusiastically, ‘I hope you’ve had a chance to rest now after your long journey?’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ said Anderson, speaking for all of them as they took their seats at the table.

  ‘Lucky you,’ said Draeus, ‘some of us have been holed up here all afternoon talking trade,’ he said, with mock resentment, nudging Timi’s arm good-humouredly.

  ‘I trust it has been productive for both of us,’ said Timi, rebutting Draeus’ complaint.

  ‘Most productive,’ replied Draeus, reverently, as several monks appeared, placing steaming dishes of food on the table.

  The food looked bland and boring. It was entirely vegetarian and consisted mainly of dishes full of lentils, beans and pulses, however, when they tucked in, they were surprised to find the food had been skilfully flavoured with vegetables, herbs and spices, bringing about explosions of flavour with every bite. The conversation over dinner was superficial; energy was pointedly avoided, as was any discussion about the research being conducted on the mountain, nor did they talk about the Institution or the state of the political world. The mood was light as a result, the only blip when Timi asked Anderson where his wife, Bella was; it was unusual for them to be separated for so long. Anderson’s energy turned reticent as he explained, over a pudding of soft fruit and yoghurt, that she was with her sick mother back in Kingdom and had been there for quite some time. He told them the prognosis wasn’t good and Bella was distraught. After expressing an appropriate amount of regret, Timi moved them skilfully on to more light-hearted territory and by the time they were sipping herbal teas and eating dark chocolate gingers, they were all laughing along with each other, Anita feeling less than sober.

  ‘My dear friends,’ said Timi, when a lull in the conversation presented itself, ‘much as I could continue with this merriment all evening, Anita and I have work to do.’

  ‘Of course,’ Draeus immediately replied, looking, if anything, a little relieved that he was finally going to have some time to himself. He and Anderson stood to leave however Alexander stayed put, undecided on his next move. He didn’t really want to leave Anita alone with Timi, but then again, he knew someone else being present for a meditation was distracting for the participants, which would negate the point of them meditating at all. He looked at Anita, who sent a nudge to the edge of his energy field and smiled back at him. He got up to leave with the others, neither saying a word nor trying to hide his energy, sending a clear warning to Timi that he had better look after his girlfriend.

  As the others vacated the room, a number of monks cleared the table of the remnants of dinner and Timi moved to sit cross legged on one of the worn rugs on the cold floor, motioning for Anita to join him. ‘Don’t look so nervous,’ he said, she supposed in what he thought of as a reassuring tone, ‘I’ll follow your lead, just take me to wherever it is the cylinder is and we’ll go from there.’

  ‘Okay,’ Anita nodded, settling herself down on the floor in front of him. She closed her eyes and focused on the boat, pushing all her energy towards that place in her mind. The last thing she wanted was for Timi to see her centre, and she wasn’t confident she could go straight to the throne room, so this seemed like the best bet. To her relief, Anita opened her eyes and found herself sitting next to Timi in the stern. The meditation felt strange, the air around her seeming to almost buzz with energy, the experience less intense than with Alexander, but the atmosphere closer, like everything was more concentrated, almost like everything was being squeezed into a smaller space. She pushed the thought aside, making her way to the bow before Timi had a chance to say anything. She reached for the anchor, feeling the now familiar shock of the cold metal, which, to her relief, had the desired effect of immediately transporting them to the throne room. So far so good, thought Anita, as she strode quickly to the box sitting in between the thrones. She picked it up and took it to where Timi was standing at the back of the room, handing the whole thing to him so he could examine the package in its entirety before realising she’d forgotten to breathe, so taking a deep, restorative breath.

  ‘This is it?’ Timi asked cautiously.

  ‘Yep,’ said Anita casually, hiding her eagerness to see what he could do.

  Timi inhaled carefully, took hold of the innocuous item and examined it carefully, taking in every aspect before turning it over in his hands. When he had gleaned everything he could from the outside, he gingerly pulled open the lid, peering cautiously inside to see what he would find. He
took in the hay, the unnatural gleam of the brass and the unexpectedly small item inside before reaching out confidently and touching the cylinder itself.

  ‘Interesting,’ he said, after a minute of standing touching it with closed eyes.

  ‘What?’ asked Anita, impatient for information.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said, wonder in his voice, ‘absolutely nothing at all.’

  Anita exhaled sharply, frustrated. ‘What did you do? Did you try to open it?’

  Timi laughed. ‘No not yet; patience, Anita.’ The words were pointed and a look of annoyance crossed her features, ‘I simply tried to read the energy contained within, but it’s giving nothing away at all.’ He picked up the cylinder, putting the box down on the floor, and held it out in front of him, one hand either end. ‘Now I’m going to try and open it.’ He focused on the cylinder for a few moments, expecting at least some small reaction, however again nothing happened, so he closed his eyes, a furrow of irritation appearing on his brow. He stayed like that for what must have been a full minute before he reopened his eyes. ‘Absolutely nothing,’ he said, clearly aggravated, ‘it’s like there’s nothing in there at all.’

  ‘You don’t have to take my word for it,’ she said, secretly pleased that determining what was inside wasn’t straightforward for the almighty Spirit Leader either, ‘I’ll show you.’ Anita reached forwards eagerly.

  ‘Wait,’ said Timi, urgently. ‘Before you touch it, you said Alexander was expelled when he touched the cylinder?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied.

  ‘So I’ll be prepared for that and try to keep myself in the meditation,’ he said. ‘Was he forced out gradually, or as soon as you touched it?’

  ‘Immediately I think.’

  ‘Okay, go ahead.’

  Anita reached out and took the cylinder from Timi, the brass warm as it had been before. He instantly disappeared, the now familiar haze enclosing around Anita, making her surroundings seem as though her eyes wouldn’t quite focus.