The Brink of Creation

Chapter 9 - The Thousand-Year Conflict

Ascend the Pyramid.

You must not waver from this goal. Show me that I can leave the fate of the world in your hands.

Show me by planting the seed of light at my feet.

The seed of light whispers within you. Ascend the Pyramid.

Remember no more, trespasser.

The Scientist jolted awake facing the sky. Two channels of light wisped past his drenched face, reflecting on the beads of mist as they lightly draped over the campsite of the hope-seeking adventurers.

Their campsite was erected high above the ground, on the foundation of a statue of a warrior which faced another on the opposite side of The Grower of Many. The mists from the raging river provided a comforting camouflage for the sleeping travelers.

Using one hand propped against the stone foundation to lift his upper body from his sleeping sack, The Scientist rose and looked at the others. It was still early in the morning, and the valley was quiet aside from the frothing waters eating away at the rocky canal which held the titanic river. The statues, battered for ages untold by the peltings of the river, had over time lost some of their original splendor, but they were magnificent nonetheless.

"You're standing on the statue of the general of Freedom," Commander Dosima called out. She had been on the last rotation of the night watch, and with the others still asleep, her voice startled The Scientist. He jumped a bit as she continued. "According to my father, Freedom fights the general of Honor on the other side. This is the Memorial of the Thousand-Year Conflict."

The Scientist stared at the tremendous carvings. The statue of Freedom was chiseled deeply into, the surface of the grey marble etched like strands of lightning had cracked into it from above. The man it depicted was fiercely muscular, and he wore some type of helmet which covered his skull and nose, but nothing else. It displayed a tanzanite crest which covered the helmet from the front of the scalp to the end of the helmet in the back, and on his belt he wore long strips of marble, presumably some type of cloth or leather. He wielded a thorned whip, which was extended towards the statue of Honor. Honor was also muscular, but taller, older, and bearded, and he held no weapon aside from broken red tourmaline shackles which lay about his wrists. He reached for the whip with his bare hands, and his feet were planted firmly on the foundation across the river. He had no armor to speak of, except for a lengthy marble loincloth which covered his torso.

"Why do they fight each other?"

The commander shrugged. "My father always spoke in riddles. He did not directly tell me why the generals fight each other, but he always reminded me of this – to seek honor is to seek the slavery of oneself to oneself."

The Scientist remembered The Paladin – the one without honor. He furrowed his brow and stayed silent.

Breakfast was light – salver caught from the river aside them and fish eggs mixed into wild greens. Johnathan was an excellent hunter and cook, and his skills were beginning to prove an esteemed asset to the group.

"Johnathan, I apologize for doubting you earlier. You should've been with us this whole time!" The Paladin grinned through a mouthful of crunchy fish eggs.

Johnathan chuckled dryly between bites of rich salver meat. "Ah had no doubts about any of you. Ah'll just do what ah can to make shuh yah well-fed. Considuh this mah gift to everyone."

Anna was eating some of the salad as well. She offered a shy smile to the hunter-cook. "Thank you, mister."

Nameless coughed on some fish as it burnt its way down his gullet. "Thanks Johnathan, but don't cook mine next time. Makes it harder to choke down."