Chapter 8

The previous night's walk had exhausted him. He had laid down to sleep right after dawn with sore feet. His legs were leaden with the weight of all the distance traveled so far. It was indeed a long journey from the western lands, from Nicodemea south through the great farmlands of Rubnis. Then he had crossed the great river Shielwa onto the rough country of Ilonas, the shepherd country. It was a land filled with animals, hill and rock where few hardy men lived.

This was where the marble road leading into the Widelands begun. This was where his quest had taken him so far. For weeks he had been on the road, suffering fools too gladly sometimes, subjecting his body into a trial of strength of will. He had been traveling on foot almost half-way through the lands. Indeed, it was a feat in itself. But that was merely the means to far greater a prize, the complete knowledge of which still eluded him despite all the years of studies and inquiries, both his and his master's.

The marble road started off as a narrow, thin road, small edges of pure white marble-like material delineating its boundaries. It was not really made from marble, for if it was it would have been stained, shattered and chipped away bit by bit long ago. It had defied though the machinations of man and had stood throughout time as immaculate as it must have been once first laid out.

It was a sleek, shiny white-gray road that felt cold to the touch but also fine and delicate, like glass-work. There it was: unbreakable, unyielding, unscathed by time, man, and nature. A foreign body so exquisitely crafted that it was indeed unique. No artisans of any time and no empire that ever rose and fell ever managed to construct such a piece of perfection, truly as some ancient poet had once said, "for the Gods to walk upon the lands".

It was, and had always been, part of the lands but alien to them as well. The people had always known of the marble road, just as they knew of the trees, the mountains and the rivers, the forests and the glens, the fields and the wheat, the goat and the cow, and the suns and the clouds. But these things were of nature, and the marble road clearly was not; for nature abhors uniqueness. Animals come in pairs, rivers abound, and so do trees. But there is only one marble road. A perfect thing; a leftover from the time Gods had walked among men. Or even so, before men alltogether.

What reason was there behind it? Why does it lead into the Widelands? What is it made of? Who build it? With what tools? They was the proper word because this must surely have been the work of thousands. No single man could have ever hoped to accomplish such a work in his lifetime. Perhaps most rightly so, the road was the work of the Gods. To try and unravel their reasoning and purpose could only lead to madness brought forth from vain, fruitless searches of the lowly human mind.

Molo decided to leave these thoughts that had been troubling him aside; thoughts which beget questions begging for answers that could not be found. At least not before he ventured into the Widelands proper, until he could find what Umberth described as the Necropolis where inestimable knowledge was waiting to be uncovered to the world. Knowledge of a time unknown before man had ever walked the lands, the Time of the Gods.

It was already a fascinating sensation walking upon the very same road that even the Gods might have walked upon once. What other man, apart from him and Umberth had dared walk the marble road unto its terribly unknown end? What other man had lived long enough to tell the tale, only to be hunted down as a heretic, a blasphemer? Would his own end be as tragic and miserable?

He grinned wickedly at these thoughts for they were immediately followed by the echo of his resolutions: He wouldn't perish neither in the Widelands. Nor would he be torn by the hands of a fanatical mob or made to disappear by the ever watchful Procrastinators. He would not succumb to any torture the Ministers might put him through, for when all his trials and tribulations had come to pass, he would be a simple man no more. He would not be hunted down or exiled; he would become a feared and terrible man.

When all the power and majesty and magnificence of the Gods was unveiled and made manifest through him, he would be transformed into a being of awe and power that the lands had not witnessed since the beginning of time. He would become a living deity, an avatar of the Gods to be loved, cherished, and worshiped as a God among men should.

He knew the truth of it, he could feel it in his heart and bones, see it in his twisting dreams. Dreams of cleansing light and fire, himself a creature of wrath and glory with terrible power at his hands and unimaginable purpose in his mind. The purpose of the Gods, their divine plan unfolding through him alone, their chosen instrument of will. He would not fail them, for his lust of the promised power burned deep within, deeper than the need to breathe indeed.