General Arcturus Bracken climbed the last stair, and stood at the great table. He was a large man, and his armor made him seem like a living statue, stoic and gleaming under a clear violet sky. There were long ribbons, scraps of old banners, tied to his pack, and they danced in the neverending wind found in high places. Arcturus reluctantly drags his gaze away from the table, a massive ring of bright quartz carved from the very mountaintop on which he stood. Below him some 200 or more steps was his squire, who had made it quite clear that his sire should go on without him. He appeared to be resting on the stone stairs, beseeching the ancient ones for the strength to go on. It didn’t matter. the young Steeg would play no part in what was to happen next. In truth, he had only allowed Steeg to persuade him at last when his protege had made a good point.
“General Brackon, sir, I couldn’t bear to let your body lay up there with the rest of them. You owe it to the people to have a heroes burial, sir..”
“Are you so convinced that I’m climbing to my doom, Steeg?” One thick eyebrow, already salted and bristly with age, lifted dramatically.
“Obviously not, sir. If anyone can tell a god what to do, it’s you sir. With all respect.” Steeg grinned. He always let them get too close. Brackon wanted someone close who wasn’t afraid to tell him how it is, and that’s how Steeg got the job.
Now, Steeg was to bear witness to a higher power. The Magi had the circle constructed almost 700 years ago, in an attempt to contact Uber, the King of the outer planes and ruler of the gods. Uber had appeared at the first conference of the Magi, having just rescued the world from their long enslavement by dragonkind. Uber brought the Magi a prophecy, that after one thousand years, the very earth would open up and the world would be consumed by darkness. For the next 1,000 years, the Magi unsuccessfully tried to reestablish contact with Uber. In their darkest times they tried to trap beings from the outer planes, Uber’s realm. This circle was made to summon Uber and trap him on Arthus. Every attempt made ended the same way, with Uber burning the flesh from their bones and returning home. Some question whether he is even compelled to come, or if he merely delights in incinerating fools.
Arcturus drew a deep breath, the air was frigid and thin. If he failed, the dark elves would win the war and he would probably be killed, if not here then on a battlefield somewhere. If he succeeded, the forces of good might just prevail. A clatter and an expletive echoed up to him from below.
”Make haste, Steeg, I’m starting without you!” Brackon took a step forward, smiling at his provokation.
Another loud, echoing clatter was quickly followed by a storm of aggressive muttering, and the mad, scrabbling steps of his apprentice. Steeg insisted on bringing a large boiling pot (How else are we going to make soup?), which had become unsecured and was loudly banging and crashing as Steeg hustled up the ancient stone staircase.
“You said you were going to wait for me!” Steeg shouted angrily as he collapsed to the ground, oblivious of the magnificent view that surrounded them. Arcturus was standing inside the circular slab, leaning on his elbows. There was a small sledgehammer on the block next to him.
“I couldn’t concentrate with all that noise anyway. Steeg, is this not the most magnificent view you’ve ever beheld?
Steeg rolled over, and the loud bong of his boiling pot diminishing the magic of the moment somewhat.
“It’s a lovely place to die sir. You do know that the point of the circle is to keep the almighty beings on the inside while we stay safely on the outside, right?”
“The Magi tried it their way, I’m gonna try it my way.” Arcturus picked up his hammer. It was short, and the end of it was molded into the shape of a charging boar, complete with razor-like tusks protruding from either side of it’s oversized snout. From deep grooves in the mithril, a soft blue light shone. Arcturus held the hammer aloft with both hands, and spoke in a clear, storng voice.
“Vokkras the Destroyer, lend me your strength!!”
The blue light from the hammer flashed brilliantly, even against the bright sunlight Steeg winced and threw an arm up belatedly to block the light. In a flash, the handle of the hammer had grown to a length of five feet, the boar now larger than the General’s head. He lifted the hammer in his hands and gave silent thanks to the dwarves, their gift would not be forgotten. The last General in the armies of good swung his hammer. Thunderous shockwaves sent grapefruit-sized chunks of quartz careening in all directions, and Steeg diving for cover. Brackon broke through the slab and continued until one side of the circle was entirely destroyed. Steeg stood on the outside of a perfectly hewn and polished curve that ended ruinously in either direction.
“What now?”
With a whisper, Vokkras’ Hammer returned to its former size, and was tucked away once more. General Brackon stood up and faced out from the center of the circle, looking out over the lands for what may be the last time.
“It’s time to summon a god.”
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