text: We waited until the second moon rose before we made our move. Silently we stole through the forest - half a dozen shadows flickering through the underbrush, hardly distinguishable from the green-grey darkness of the great wood's densely crowded floor. Ullic wove a spell around us, chanting beneath his breath in the rolling speech of the Arkingdoms, and I felt the chill of sorcery in my bones as he led us on. It was a dark night, even despite the twin moons. Made darker still by the task ahead. I stuck my hand into one of the pockets of my overcoat and felt the cool touch of a brass medallion, familiar and comforting, worn smooth by long handling and the slow passage of years. It was my greatest possession. I grazed my thumb across its face and repeated the incantations for the hundredth time. I knew I was ready. If I wasn't, there wasn't time to become so. But I repeated the words and went over the steps and prayed that we would be enough. Something in the air began to change, and at once we could sense the edge of the clearing drawing near. Through the darkness I could see the faint outline of an enormous structure; more visible through the stars it obscured than any true feature or distinction. I went over the outline in my mind's eye, trying to remember where we were supposed to be. Somewhere just outside the southern wall was my guess. Ullic raised a hand to halt us, and as one we drew in close. "We're here." He said simply, his breath coming in steady gusts. He was winded, but still strong -- the spell had only been the first taste. "Does everyone remember what it is they need to do?" We nodded silently, there in the shadow of the massive, ancient trees. In the gloom I could see the rest of our number; Imbra and Ilyas, Ana, Tenoch of the Risar. This last seemed even more monstrous than usual, his craggy, stone-like features and hulking form made ominous by the faint light. I would never speak such words aloud, but I was glad to see his face. The risar were a strange race, but they were useful in a fight. With assurances given, Ullic gave the final word, and as one we stepped out into the clearing. Six figures, still hidden against the shadow of the trees. And before us the ancient temple of Randrabram stood tall and malevolent. We broke into a run, heading straight for the curtain wall of blue stone that encircled the base of the entire structure, keeping out unwanted visitors. It was a stalwart edifice thick enough to hold off battering rams and onagers -- but against sorcerers it was a trifling distraction, and hardly worth its weight. Imbra and Ilyas took the lead, the foreign pair sprinting faster than I could match, and as I watched they loosed a burst of power and vaulted themselves upward. They twisted gracefully in midair, feline in the smoothness of their movements but something other in their weightlessness, landing softly upon the upper ramparts with hardly a break in their stride. Ullic came after, though not near so prettily; he reached into the satchel that hung by his side and drew a series of brass rods. In the dark I could barely make them out -- but I noticed the glimmer of colour as he threw them toward the wall. With soft sounds they pierced stone, forming a trail up to the wall's upper ranks where the twins crouched and waited. The northman leapt lightly upward and began his climb, reaching from rod to rod as he scurried up the wall with startling speed. Ana half turned and gave us a wink, before she took spoke a spell for climbing. Hers, however, was not so physical as the other's. She whispered beneath her breath, and then she flew. That left only Tenoch and I at the base. I looked at the hulking giant, and he looked at me. "There's no way I'm doing that." He rumbled. I grinned at him, and reached into my own bag to find a narrow length of rope. It wasn't much, but sorcery could make up for a great deal of lack. It wasn't long before we joined the others on the ramparts. The temple spread before us like a stone lily; concentric rings of pale blue walls all centered upon a grand central tower. Buildings cowered in the shadows of each ring, most not much bigger than a hovel, but the true wonders were the ornately carved statues that seemed to fill every corner and crevice. Dogs, bears, demons and devils, drakes and manticores and all manner of beast -- all found their place in the ranks of those unmoving denizens, their bodies painted with a pale gold ringlets, their eyes gleaming with gemstones. But all throughout there was not a single living soul. "Not quite the guardians I expected." Ullic muttered. "Where are the soldiers?" asked Ilyas. "I thought there would be guards." Imbra scoffed. "The gods are dead. What need do they have for guards?" "They're not dead. They're merely sleeping." "Five hundred years is a very long nap." "Quiet!" Ullic hissed. "We are in the temple of Randrabram. Hallowed hall of the Ruddhan kings. Here the demi-god Matharu slew a thousand foes with a broken arrow. Here the goddess Derrinkor was laid to rest after the Abolition! Here we bring the age of gods to a new and glorious beginning! Have some respect, damn you, or at least some wits. We know not what lurks in these shadows." Both of the twins seemed annoyed at the rebuke, but they wisely held their tongues. Tenoch made a noise like a landslide through a canyon. I think he was attempting to laugh. "Tenoch," Ullic spoke with an urgent air of command. "Take the mute and head down on the left. Imbra, Ilyas, you take the right. Ana--" He paused, sharing a strange, long look with the dark-haired southern woman. "You're with me." He declared. "Straight down the center." "Right into the maw of the beast?" She replied. "It would be my pleasure." The risar and I made our way across the wall, marveling at the temple as we did. The ramparts were wide enough to accommodate two chariots side-by-side, and so high the world below seemed strangely peaceful. It was easy to forget how much blood had been spilled here. Easier still to forget how much would spill after we were done. We came to the head of a long staircase, the steps carved directly from stone. Side by side we began our slow descent. It was then that we heard the scream. Both Tenoch and I halted in place, struck by the agony and horror in it. It lasted for hardly a moment, but in my ears it sounded like an age -- I could hear the shifts of its pitch and timbre, responding to agony like the reflection in a mirror. It twisted and roiled and burst into the silence of the evening like a storm, setting every hair on my body to standing, and filling my stomach with no small amount of dread. Beside me, the risar grunted. "Damn." We took off running. Down the stairs and into the maze-like corridors of the temple grounds, the ringed walls rising above us so that all was obscured save the sky. We wasted no time looking for our comrades. Spent not a moment worrying about their fates. We knew the risks, and we knew the dangers, and we had come to this place with a mission in hand. The mission surmounted all. That was what Ullic always said. The slap of boots on stone echoed around us, my speed matched by the giant's long strides. I found myself grateful again for the eight-foot tall slab of stone and gristle. How my father would pale at the thought of his son being thankful for the help of a risar! But he was not here, and he had not heard that scream. I was. I had. And thanked the gods for Tenoch. A crossroad opened up before us, branching paths between the corridors made clear. I drew up short, while Tenoch glanced around for any sign of trouble. He looked to the left and the right. But trouble came from above. With a screech like metal on metal a great dark shape came hurtling downward, leaping from the ramparts of the nearest curve of wall with teeth and talons bared. It was a blur of blue stone, amber paint in swirling designs glowing faintly on its flanks as it landed hard -- both Tenoch and I scrambled backward, hands reaching for weapons, but already the beast was moving. It went for Tenoch, clearly decided him to be the greater threat, or the tastiest morsel, and with fangs bared it leapt for his throat with violence in mind. He threw up his arm, bellowing loudly as the devil struck its mark; the risar had skin much stronger than a man's, but the creature's teeth sank home nonetheless. Tenoch roared again, and I scrambled for my bag, digging through for anything that might help. I found a small bag of blackpowder but discarded it quickly, searching for something that wouldn't kill Tenoch as well. The two struggled with one another as I hunted for a tool, my mind racing for spells and incantations. Tenoch shook the beast, its teeth still buried in his arm, its claws rending great long slashes in his clothes and armour, while with his free hand he struck it again and again. Neither seemed to gain the upper hand, though the ground grew dark with risar blood, and at last I felt my fingers close around something of use. A bladeless hilt, weapon of choice for mages all across the Redemah. I pulled it free and pushed myself to my feet, trying to remember the incantation even as I sprinted forward. I raised the hilt high and worked my fingers for the spell; calling upon the power of the Firmament and the forces beyond. A blade of light and fire surged from the hilt, and with a shout of fury echoing through my mind I leapt, and buried into the beast. With a keening shriek it fell backward, loosing at last the worried, bloodied arm of Tenoch as it twisted and writhed in agony. I drew back the blade and struck with it again, and again, and yet again -- up and down the blade rose and fell, until the keening died and the sword grew dim. Panting, I glanced at Tenoch. He clutched his forearm to his chest, but seemed whole. The bronze armour he wore was a tattered mess of torn metal, and blood coated the whole of his arm and streaked across his chest and side. I offered him a sympathetic look. He grunted, and spat a few curses in his native tongue. Tentatively I made my way to the ruined corpse of the beast that had come for us. A strange creature, almost like a lion but...wrong. I knew at once what it was; the blue stone form, the pale yellow markings. One of the statues, come to life. “Should have guessed.” Tenoch growled. “Whole damn world full of magic, and mages, and treachery. Should have guessed this would be one of those.” He wasn’t wrong. I put the hilt back into my bag, and joined his side. There wasn’t much to be done for his arm, but I gave him what aid I could. Suddenly a fluttering filled the air, like a canvas sail whipping in the wind. Both Tenoch and I looked up in time to see Ana descending to meet us. “You heard the scream?” She asked. Tenoch grunted his assent. As the witch landed, she caught sight of his arm and then the beast. “Seems you’ve had troubles of your own.” “The damn beasts are coming to life, aren’t they?” Tenoch spat again, as if it was curse enough. “All those tomes you read, all the preparation you did - nothing told you about magic statues?” “Nothing concrete. Certainly nothing said that they would be this dangerous.” “Creatures of stone, animated by magic, charged to defend the grave of a god with their lives. What could be dangerous about that?” The witch shot him a withering look, and turned to me. “Time for subtlety has passed. Time to make for the central keep. You have any tricks in that bag that can help us?” I shook my head. It was her turn to curse. She turned to Tenoch. “What about you stone-face?” “Where is Ullic? You were with him.” “He sent me to find you. He went for Imbra and Ilyas. They were the ones who screamed - one of them anyway. But I doubt the other was very far behind.” “We should find them.” “There isn’t *time*.” Ana’s voice was hard, and sharp and swift as the crack of a whip. “There are dozens of these creatures. Scores of them. All hunting *us* as we speak. Let Ullic find the others and join us at the keep. We need to move, and we need to move quickly. You know what he would say.” Tenoch grunted. “The mission before all.” “Before all indeed. You ready?” The risar nodded. I did the same. “Good.” Ana took the lead, and together the three of us plunged deeper into the maze. The blue stone walls seemed to loom large overhead, threatening to tumble inward and envelop us - but they held as we rushed onward underneath, running hard as we made for our goal. Every so often Ana would take to the skies, adjusting our path to steer us rightly or avoid another beast. By the end Tenoch was panting and I was drenched in sweat. But we found our way through the corridors of Randrabram, and came at last to the final steps before the citadel. “Here,” She told us. “Gods be good, we’re nearly done.” We took to the steps three at a time, our energy renewed by the nearness of victory. The only sounds in the night was the slap of boots upon stone and the labored breath of weary men. But as we came to the doors that led into the temple’s heart, a new sound joined them all. *”Wait!”* I whirled, and there came Ullic - running hard with Imbra clutching to his side. She was wounded, badly, and even from a distance she looked pale. The only thing keeping her moving was her arm slung around Ullic’s shoulder, and a desperate, undefeatable will to survive. They lurched along the path up to the staircase, half hobbling, half stumbling, desperately trying to make up the space. In a few moments I saw why - behind them came death, in all its many faces. “Gods be good.” Tenoch breathed, his own eyes catching sight of the half a dozen shadows hurtling down the corridor to our companions. They were moving too swiftly, and Ullic and Imbra too slowly; they would catch them before they were halfway up the stair. There was no hope, unless we gave it to them. Tenoch did not wait. He drew his sword with his good arm - a long, savage thing of bronze, gleaming with fury in the half-light. I reached into my bag for the bag of blackpowder, and offered a quiet prayer to the gods for true aim. It was Ana who stopped us. “Are you *mad*?” She hissed, slipping before us. Her arms were spread to bar the way, and her gaze was hard. “Just *one* of those things nearly killed you. Six will rend you limb from limb.” “I will not watch our companions die.” Said Tenoch. “Do not watch, then. We go on.” I stared at Ana, but for all my shock I was not surprised. We were companions in arms, but not friends. We had a mission. And it was paramount. But the risar was not so easily convinced. He took a step forward, and in the shadow of his might the witch seemed a child. “Move or be moved.” He said. “No son of Sarmath leaves allies unaided.” Ullic’s voice reached us at the top of the stair. “Please!” He shouted. “Help us!” The statues were closing swiftly. Tenoch and Ana locked eyes and wills. My hand closed around the sack of blackpowder, and like water from a spring the spell came to my fingertips. I drew the sack and threw. It flew high, and far, heading straight for the ranks of the onrushing specters and their seething, shadowy hate. As it reached just above their ranks, I raised my hand and clenched my fist. The word of power in my mind burst into incandescent light. And above the guardians, the sack of powder did the same. With a roar it exploded into scorching flame and smoke, belching forth across the ranks of the devils as they came. They let up a chorus of shrieks and cries, their terrible approach halted for only a moment. Tenoch rushed down the stair, pushing past the witch and moving swiftly for Ullic. I watched the smoke from where I stood, hoping. Praying. Then something moved beyond the haze. *TENOCH!* My mind bellowed, but my throat could not do the same - and I watched in horror as he ran to his doom, the beasts already rallying, one leaping through the smoke. Its jaw hung at an angle, clearly wounded by the blast, but these demons of stone and magic seemed to care little for the pane. In their gemstone eyes hate glittered, hard and cold. They came on with renewed fervor. Tenoch spotted them and redoubled his speed, leaping down the ancient staircase with little care for anything save haste. He skittered down the steps toward Ullic and Imbra, even as the latter slipped on the stones and fell, buckling beneath her own weight and agony. Ullic tried to move her, but he did not have the strength. I watched with horror. Then felt a hand on my shoulder. The witch woman looked at me, her eyes intent on my own. “Do you know the runes?” She demanded. “If we make it to the top, can you do the casting?” I nodded. Tenoch was the runemaster, of course - the risar had invented the craft, and knew it best - but I had learned the spells as a precaution. I was meant to perform the final ritual, but in a pinch I could do the rest. “Good.” She glanced at the scene unfolding below. “You’re not so crippled by attachment, are you?” I followed her gaze. Ullic and Tenoch stood together now, united over the body of Imbra who lay unmoving at the base of the steps. The northman had fire dancing along the tips of his fingers, and Tenoch bore his bronze blade high. Four of the statues circled. Waiting for an opening. And in the distance more shadows seemed to move. The mission before all. I turned my back on the fight below, and followed Ana into the temple’s heart. I offered a quiet prayer, for northman and risar. Blood was often spilled in Randrabam. A little more would be of no consequence. We entered the temple and climbed its steps, ignoring the chambers and hallways that whispered of secrets and treasures and glories unknown. Ana led the way, a witchlight floating just beyond her, and I followed while straining for the faintest sound from outside. Nothing could be heard. And as we climbed higher and higher, outside faded from memory. Soon enough it seemed inconsequential. Soon after that, little more than a dream. We surfaced at the top of the tower, forcing open a door that had not been opened in centuries. The wind whipped harshly around us, whispering admonishment, but there was a power here that could not be denied. It thrummed through the air, through our beings, warmer than a furnace, so rich and sweet it was almost heady. It felt like being drunk, only greater. Like lust, only stronger. Love, but deeper. “This is it.” Ana breathed. And indeed it was. The altar of the temple stood before us - a black stone monolith of unknown make, glossy in the light of the twin moons. I could feel its draw upon my heart. Every breath I took was like a gasp in the face of a hurricane. “Its time.” I stepped forward. Tentatively, as a boy before his father’s wrath, my head bowed in fear of rebuke, but driven forward by an order I could not disobey. Even step made the air feel warmer. Every moment I felt more alive. And as I stood before the altar, my fears slipped away. There was no doubt. There was no worry. There was only this. The spells I had spent all my life learning came to my fingers without demand. They too seemed bowed before the power of the presence before us; subdued in the wake of the force that we now embraced. I bent to write the runes of power, and with the tip of my finger etched them in white fire along the altar’s base. I worked the incantations with the shifting of my fingers, and I felt something beyond the Firmament shift as well. Summoning is a lot like picking a lock. You twist and tweak and listen for the changes. You test the mechanism for weakness. You let it tell you where and when to push. Summoning a god is nothing like that. It’s more like sliding down a hill. Once committed, it’s out of your hands. There is only the draw. There is only the fall. Yes, that is what it was like. Summoning a god felt like fighting gravity. A fight that I was losing. “Come on!” Ana urged, her eyes wild and alive with power. “Keep pressing!” Press I did. Upon the very boundaries of the world I pressed. Deep into the fabric of creation, straight into the veil, right into the Firmament and beyond it I pressed my power and *pushed*. There was no time for thinking. No time for planning or the cleverness of mages. I could feel the power of that which we locked away, and it was like staring into the heart of the sun. It called to me. Urged me onward. Promised me power, and glory, and dominion. Immortality. Apotheosis. Fire, water, and blood. It offered me my speech. How could it know that, I thought. As if the gods did not know all things. As if the piercing light that now divided the contents of my soul could not tell where I was weak, and failing. Slowly I could hear music in the distance, and I knew then that the moment was coming. It began to grow, louder and louder, crashing with cymbals and bright with lyres and alive with wood and brass. Voices were in it; ten thousand voices in ten thousand tongues, crying out a name - *my* name - and offering me praises, offering me glory, offering me power over life and death - “Fool!” Ana began to shout, “What are you doing? Bind it! Bind it!” But there was no binding the storm. No leashing the wind. I could feel it coming, sure as dawn. Who could forbid the sun its dominion? Who could stand before the sea, and tell it no? Only the gods. Only they. And I was not such a one. Not yet. The music was louder now, and I could feel the blood as it ran down my ears. I fell to my knees in reverence, shaking with the force of creation. I could see visions. Crystal towers, stretching from the center of the earth to the outmost stars, and upon them strode demons and heroes, colossal and mighty, wreathed in power. “Bind it!” Came the distant voice again. But the binding mattered not. This power did not care for bindings. This power did not care for me. My hands etched the runes upon the altar without my will to guide them. Slowly, surely, they carved fire into stone, and undid the names of the locks that sealed this ancient god from all creation. Vaguely I remember a loud, desperate scream. Then a sound like canvas in the wind. Then there was nothing - nothing but the storm of song that surrounded me, and the feeling in my gut that *something was coming*. I heard it. Steps. Each one the death knoll of millions. It was coming. They were coming. And I would be their herald, their arbiter, their servant, their son and devoted slave But as the flash of bronze caught my eye, I loosed a guttural scream of horror and fear. Sharper than steel was the risar’s blade, and swift as moonlight on water it bit into the flesh of my wrists and severed my hands at the bone. I fell backward, blood gouting in crimson streams as I tried to voice my agony. The pain seered through my mind, and as the hands ceased their writing the visions were lost - like a door slammed shut upon paradise, all the wonder and peace and glory I had known was hidden once more with one dreadful, final boom. I railed, and laughed, and wept bitter tears, and screamed with my mangled tongue. I found myself thinking, quietly clearly, that I had gone mad; but I cared not. It did not matter. I wanted more. Tenoch, bloodied and wounded in more places than could be counted, looked upon me with pity. His sword still dripped with scarlet blood, even while his clothes were streaked and stained with black. “The mission before all.” He sneered. “Damn the mission. Damn your gods. Damn it all.” He coughed, and spat red blood upon the blue stone. You have, I thought. You have.