An old story about Faces and Time

There has been no proof reading.

A city was once destroyed.

The people who built it knew that war would come to it – they felt the rumbling in the earth. They saw it in the sky, as their gods soared by and told them the future. But they kept building – it would be years until the invaders came.

But the wise men, who lived on every corner of the land, grew increasingly concerned for the city. They knew that whatever the people did, they would never be able to defend it. The children would be slaughtered, and the temples would be defiled. And so the wise men came together, and came up with a plan.

In chiselled metal and sharpened tusk,

In the light of dawn and the dark of dusk,

With the breath of Kyne and the heart of Shor,

They created a face of War.

And they sealed it inside the mouth of god, deep inside of the city. Many came to boast their case, but the wise men called them unworthy. More years passed, and a young man approached the wise men, when they convened in the Winter.

“I am the son of a slain King”, he said.

“I sparred the Snow Prince

“and duelled the Great Frost Giant.

“I’ve learned from the Folk Below. I am the Face of War come.”

The wise men thought for a moment, and talked among themselves. Then, they came to the man with a question.

“Are you pious?”

“Of course I am,” he replied “I Speak to the gods from the mountains every morning. “

“To truly know the gods,” said the most glorious of the wise men “is to know Time itself.

“When you understand Time, you will know War, as you will see it coming.”

The man went away to think. He thought about things that always are – the sun, the gods – things that moved, but did not age.

So he travelled to the oldest tree in the land.

The tree was hidden in the mountains. Its trunk was thick and its rings many. He sat before it for weeks, considering Time, considering himself. And then, a winged god flew down and landed nearby.

“Young mortal, what are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m trying to understand Time.” Said the man. “I’ve been here for weeks.”

“Weeks? It has been but a blink.” Replied the god. “I don’t regard Time.”

“But you’re a god!” replied the man. “Surely you understand Time.”

“I understand Time.” Replied the god. “By not regarding it.

“I exist outside of Time, and I’m unaffected by its flow, for I see it from a distance. This tree has been here since before Time even began, and so it has seen everything, as I do”

And the man, by not understanding, understood.

He returned to the wise men and told them what he had learned.

“War is coming soon,” they said. “You are the Warlord, you shall see it. Your face is in the sanctuary.”

And they lead him there, and used their faces to show him his. The ground rumbled. The invaders were coming.

And the face was not there. The mouth of god was empty, and the wise men had left. Was his own face the War Face all along? He thought about it, but the invaders had already come.

They had begun slaughtering children.

They had desecrated all of the temples.

But Time, like the gods, were impartial. He knew that there was a time after the city, and so he left. He left into the mountains, he left to be under the old tree. He watched the city burned to the ground, like Time passing.

And from the tree, he carved and carved and carved a new face for himself, to cover his face of War.

He carved a face of Time.

A city was once built.