The Haunted Wizard

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The moon rose high over the low hill at the edge of the plain, and over the cluster of rocks at its foot. Within that rough ring half a dozen men in white robes stood chanting, hoods covering their heads, gilded sickles at their belts, chanting a petition to a forgotten god.

“Why have you turned away from us, O Toutatis?” the leader called, and the others answered, “Because our fathers’ fathers turned away from you.”

“Remember us, Toutatis!” the leader cried, and the others chanted, “Toutatis, remember.”

“Our ancestors built great stone rings in which to worship you, Toutatis, but we must hide in these circles you have given us by the mountains.”

“We must hide in the mountains,” the watchers chorused.

“For we who remember you are few, and weak thereby, Toutatis!”

“We are few and weak,” the watchers agreed.

“We pray you, give us strength, Toutatis, that we may increase!”

“That we may increase!”

“That we may regain our dominion, and worship you openly in the great stone rings!” the leader cried.

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