There is a certain painful irony to how quickly a sentient being turns to
rash, ignorant bravado when faced with something outside the realm of his
experience. Teacher after wise, learned teacher drills into us the concept of
open-mindedness, of accepting one's own ignorance as the first step towards
enlightenment, and we think ourselves well versed in such lessons. But when
the moment arrives, and we find ourselves assailed by the extraordinary, we
fall back on the brash arrogance that has lain dormant since the most foolish
days of our youth, and challenge our very senses rather than compromise our
understanding of the world.
I am not nearly as young as I once was, though not yet so old as I hope
to be, and I thought myself well beyond the proud insecurity of my younger
days. Had I not been taught humility by none other than Master Veritus
himself, and had the lesson driven home by the mighty fists of Lord Ashtorath?
I had learned since then to think outside my own petty boundaries, to embrace
that which I did not understand as a new frontier, the next step on my path to
becoming the perfect Nihilist.
It was perhaps my thoughts about exploring new frontiers that brought me
to the realization that I had cloistered myself somewhat since the bolder days
of my youth. My duties as Mystagogue and as a citizen in Magnagora had kept me
from roaming the Basin of Life as once I had, and my knowledge of the world had
dwindled considerably as a result - whole areas of the Basin had been
discovered into which I had never set foot. My knowledge of the geography and
culture of the world was swiftly being outpaced by even the younger members of
my city, and I found myself becoming ashamed. To that end, I decided to spend
one year away from my more menial responsibilities, and set out to explore the
unexplored as I had some twenty years before.
The freedom of that year, and the discoveries I made during my travels,
make it one of the fondest memories of my life. I traveled the Grey Moors, and
looked upon the ruins of Castle Djarrakh; I did battle with the extraplanar
Gorgogs of Bondero Bay. I roamed the mountains that encircle the Basin, and
spoke with the monks of the Tosha Monastery about a great many things; one day,
when I have learned more of their four principles of enlightenment, I will
return to face their final test. I visited the Tainted forest of the lower
Ethereal, and experienced rare feelings of serenity and peace while surrounded
on all sides by twisted trees. I returned to Nil for the first time in several
years, and discoursed with the Demon Lords before renewing my vows of loyalty to
each in turn. I shared with Lord Baalphegar news of his kinsman imprisoned on
Celestia, and he charged me with the task of releasing his shackled servant. I
will do it, if it means my life.
However, when I returned to Magnagora in winter, it was none of these
things that contributed to my unusually withdrawn demeanor, nor were they the
reason that I locked myself in my office with nothing but a group of yellowed
scrolls for days on end. No, I had made another discovery during my travels,
one that made all the wondrous things I saw seem as trivial as those I left
behind.
It was when I was exploring the Sea of Despair, held above the surface
by my magics, that I first spotted the cave, far in the distance. Not only did
I know of no such cave, I was not even familiar with a land mass in this sea
aside from the one which housed the ruins of Old Celest. The Undead Emperor
Ladantine, I knew, dwelled in a cave far beneath the surface, but I saw no
means by which this cave could have risen to the surface. Puzzled, and more
than a little intrigued, I strode across the water towards it, determined to
see it up close.
As I drew in closer, and the details became sharper, I became even more
intrigued. The cave itself was fairly small, as was the land mass that
supported it; in fact, no more than ten or fifteen yards of beach and rocks
extended in front of its mouth. Of more interest than either, however, was the
statue that stood before the cave. It was a male figure, tall and regal, garbed
in nothing but a loincloth. His facial features were finely-sculpted, as were
his impressive muscles, and a pair of large, glistening rubies shone forth from
his eye sockets, as though watching me walk slowly across the barren sand.
Now, the more mundane forms of craftsmanship are often the most useful,
but I had always inclined more to the arcane than the physical, and so my trade
was in enchantments. I had studied this craft nearly as hard as the arts of the
Nihilists, and had finally achieved mastery some months before, so that I now
proudly wore a Crown of the Magi under the hood of my robe, drawing strength
from its magic. I recognized an enchanted statue when I saw one; I had erected
many myself, and had removed the runes from just as many, watching as the magic
within them crumbled and they became nothing more than a shell of stone and
masonry. This statue was clearly enchanted, and by someone very skilled in the
art - the base of the statue was adorned with as many runes as I had ever seen.
The runes were subtly different from the ones I was used to, but similar enough
for me to translate the majority, and they comprised nearly every affliction I
was familiar with, enough to cripple a man so fully he could do nothing but
waste away on the sand. What I could not make out, however, was the alignment
of the statue, or the maker. Both were in a script that I found myself unable
to translate; for a brief, irritated instant I wished I had the assistance of
my friend Nokraenom, with his grasp of foreign tongues. However, I quickly
realized that I could not even recognize these runes, let alone translate them;
they were not written in any tongue still used in the Basin.
Suddenly a voice rang in my ears. "Greetings, young one."
I whirled around, unable to determine the source of the voice. "Who
spoke?" I asked.
The voice returned, sounding amused. "I would think that process of
elimination would make that question wholly unnecessary."
Unable to believe where my mind was headed, I glanced up and confirmed
my wildest imaginings: the statue now stood with its head cocked to one side,
smiling down at me. The impression of life, of sentience, now radiated from
the eyes with a strength I could not ignore. My voice nearly trembled as I
spoke again. "Are you the one speaking?" I asked the statue, feeling like a
fool.
I gasped as the statue nodded slowly, like a puppet. The voice rang
again in my ears as though coming from all around me, but I could tell now that
it issued from within that stone frame. It spoke slowly, deliberately, and
without hurry. "Better late than never."
I flushed, humiliated by my own stubborn refusal to identify the statue
when first it spoke. "Who are you?"
It tilted its head slowly, confused. "I am a statue. That question
does not apply."
I gestured impatiently with my hands. "Yes, but you were not a statue
originally. You have been…turned this way, from some other form, yes?"
A deep, grating rumble echoed in my ears, and after several moments I
realized the statue was laughing. "You are doubting the evidence of your own
senses," it said patiently. "I am, and have always been, made of stone."
I shook my head slowly, unable to comprehend such a possibility.
"Forgive me, friend, but you have been deceived. I myself am a student of the
arts by which a statue such as yourself can be created," I said, pointing at my
crown, "but it cannot be made to move and speak. There is no such power."
The statue laughed again. "Well, in light of this, perhaps I should bow
to your superior intellect and cease to exist. Such arrogance does not become
you, Ashar."
I started at the sound of my own name. "How do you know my name?"
It shrugged, an act which took several seconds. "It is one of my
functions."
I struggled to keep up with all that the statue was revealing. "Well,
who are you? What made you? What are your other functions?"
It chuckled dryly. "As I said, I have no identity of my own - but I am
called the Keeper of Secrets, if you wish for some form of address. That," it
added, "should explain why I cannot answer your other questions."
I nodded; I had anticipated some secrecy as to this part of its mission.
"Well, can you tell me whom your enchantments are set against? From whom do
you guard this cave?"
It smiled slightly. "I guard this cave from all except the one who is
ready, and that one has not yet come."
"And what," I asked, "Does the cave contain?"
It shrugged slowly. "It is the home of the one who created me. I do
not know what he kept there."
I grew suddenly eager; such a master of the arcane arts would surely be
possessed of secrets, artifacts, forbidden knowledge beyond measure. It was
mine for the taking, if only I could persuade this statue to let me pass.
"Well, how might I make myself ready?"
I glared at it, my pride wounded and my patience sorely tested by its
lack of cooperation. "I suggest you do so," I threatened. "I have reduced
your kind to rubble before, and if you stand in my way for much longer I will
do it again."
The statue looked down at me, and suddenly I felt very, very small. Its
ruby eyes seemed to bore into mine, emotionless and cold. Then it laughed, and
I hope I never again hear a stone produce that sound of utter contempt. "You
grow above your station, little Nihilist," it intoned derisively. "By all
means, undo the magics which bind me together. I welcome the attempt."
I knew that it was goading me into foolish action, and found myself
nonetheless unable to resist. I reached out and lay my hands on the cool
stone, searching for the enchanted weaves that contained this statue's power.
As soon as my fingers touched the first rune I knew I had made a terrible
mistake, but it was too late. The runes flared to life simultaneously, and
suddenly I stood within the statue's aura, and the entire world seemed to
shift. The sky was an angry red, the earth was a bleak and lifeless gray, and
above me stood not a statue but a living man, looming and terrible. His eyes
were a deep red, and flared with power as he pointed a damning finger at me. I
felt his power slam into me, forcing me to me knees, and then one by one the
runes flashed, and my mind and body were bombarded. My limbs shattered,
invisible bindings choked me, and my mind seemed to bisect: I was all-powerful
one moment, weak and persecuted the next. My voluminous robes terrified me,
and the very ground seemed to brim with a potent malevolence that almost
rendered me helpless.
Almost, but not quite.
I had been foolish, but I was not unprepared for such an onslaught.
Seizing a hold of myself during a few lucid moments, I chanted a group of
harsh, guttural syllables, and the earth beside me split to reveal my demonic
servant, who quickly knelt beside me. Opening my veins, he purged my blood of
the illness that had beset me, and soon I rose, gasping for breath but
otherwise unharmed. One thing was clear, however - this battle was beyond my
skills. I had thought myself a master enchanter, but compared to whatever lost
scholar had forged this mighty creation I was a novice. I bowed low before the
statue. "I concede defeat," I said without reluctance, recovering the dignity
I had foolishly lost. "I am not yet ready to pass this way."
The statue shook its head. "Not yet," it said contentedly, patiently.
"But the admission of that fact is the first step. One day, perhaps, I will be
forced to let you pass."
I nodded. "I will return," I promised, and knew it was true. "You have
not seen the last of me." Bowing again, I began to back away.
The statue inclined its head in a gesture of respect. "Go well, Seeker
of Secrets," it intoned formally, and then was still as stone again.
I am searching, still, for whatever piece of knowledge or power will
make me ready to pass that statue and discover the secrets it guards. It will
take patience, more patience perhaps than any have shown who passed that way
before - but I am a servant of the Supreme Master, and patience is a virtue I
will strive to cultivate within myself. In the interests of patience, I record
this tale now for the Basin to remember, so that should my eternal slumber come
upon me before my work is complete, another will work to finish what I have
started. Knowledge is Power, as Lord Baalphegar teaches us all, and I have
taken this lesson fully to heart.
Find the strength to pass that statue by the sea, and you shall have
power indeed.