Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
23
JUL/20
As the disembodied voice spoke, and in the absence of parchment and quill, Mar’iya focused all of his attention on the Spirit’s words lest he forget them. Mar’iya was gifted with a sharp mind – and one that was unburdened with such trivial matters as memory and identity – and so he soaked the words up like man dying of thirst upon finding water at long last.
“Amun Re?” The name meant nothing to Mar’iya, though he felt like it should; the name virtually radiated majesty and power. This Pharaoh must have been of great stature in life, yet the remnants of his empire was a barren, desolate, and unpopulated wasteland. “How the mighty have fallen.”
This “Son of Takosh Re” was still powerful, though; he had reached across miles of desert and spoken directly into their minds. It was also not lost on Mar’iya either, that Amun Re had shared a but snippet of his “prophecy” with each of them in turn, initially – artificially solidifying a bond of connectedness with one another, when certainly not all of them were feeling particularly connected at the time. Oni and Joe and seemed far more trusting of Mar’iya since the words were spoken; and Mar’iya himself had all but set aside his desire to murder Rain since then. Mostly.
Amun Re must have also delivered Jorkhal to them; and with him, the map. He must have felt that the Defiler – powerful though he was – was not capable enough to do what needed to be done. “Many have tried…and none of succeeded.” The Defiler was powerful, but this tomb must be very dangerous indeed to sacrifice one such as Jorkhal in order to gain our attention. “Until some mortal soul does despoil this place, taking your Staff of Ruling and the Star Gem of Mo-Pelar from your theft-proof tomb…” Theft-proof. That had an ominous ring to it.
Mar’iya reflected back on the previous visions, “There are obelisks in the desert…where death awaits. None who have gone forth to study those ancient stones have ever returned.” How many victims had there been before them? How many others had answered his call, only to perish upon the sand? Perhaps this ancient spirit delights in sending people to their death, feeding on their greed and misery? “He had a power even from beyond the grave,” their first vision had stated, the message seemingly coming from Amun Re, and referencing himself. “He has an agenda in telling us just how mighty he is, and yet he is trapped here all the same.”
Mar’iya smiled slightly, as he sat down upon the hot sand in the shadow of the obelisk, drawing in the soil with an idle finger. This Amun Re was powerful. He had united them in a task, and promised them great riches in return for his gem and staff. “He seeks to awe us with his fanciful tale and his powerful reach – but for all his power, he does not even know my name,” Mar’iya realized with a sense of satisfaction. “He instead called me by the silly moniker Oni had given me,” when he had addressed the two of them in the shadow of the great obelisks. “If he is as powerful as he had claims, surely he would know the name carved upon my soul, and not the one that passes my lips?” Instead, he had called him Mar’iya, or the name Oni’s people ascribe to “The Wind.” In light of that little fact, it made the seemingly innocuous line from the Vision, “I have even talked with the wind in hopes of help,” seem fairly portentous, indeed.
Mar’iya leaned back against the obelisk and pondered these revelations. The promise of power and riches was tantalizing, if it was to be believed. And, powerful as he was, Amun Re’s influence was not absolute. The Pharaoh had simply found some fertile soil in which to sow the seeds of greed, watered them with prophetic vision, all in the hopes that they would blossom in verdant subservience. No, Amun Re did not know all. Therefore, he could not know that, should they be successful in recovering the Pharaoh’s powerful staff and gem, there was simply no way they were going to hand them over to him…