From high above the misty flatlands below, the shadowed images of thousands of twisted figures were visible – slinking through the cover of fog and burrowing in and out of the earth. Day by day, they polluted the land and rich soil… with each moment that passed by they multiplied throughout the fertile terrain, filling it with the filth and poisons of their greed. They were the essence of rot itself, held unchecked to ravage a purity created long ago by another race, in a brighter time.

Aidden felt the air turn stagnant and humid as the beasts crept around below, and his skin pricked as a sudden upwind brought the poisoned atmosphere to him, brushing against his face. As the filth and greed worked its way through his nose and mouth, he could feel the polluting effects on his body. It continued, penetrating his skin and weakening his bones; sapping his will and strength until he began to tremble under it’s weight… surely he must fall to this toxic atmosphere… Then, as he felt he could stand it no more, it pulled away from him as if retreating from a more powerful foe, jerking him forward a step with its mass, as if sucked from his body in one breath. From behind, a dim light touched Aidden’s eyes. Despite his best efforts, he could not turn his head to see… it grew slowly, creeping from the corner of his sight towards the center of his vision – with it came a deep low rumble that grew into a deafening roar. Aidden’s heart raced – in the back of his mind he felt panic creeping forward. Whatever had made the force that had set upon him seconds earlier retreat as it did could only be twice as bitter and evil.

He struggled to run from the entity following but found his feet planted firmly in the rocky terrain below. In the distance behind, a bullhorn suddenly pierced the roar, rising to a deep, brazen pitch before being joined by a chorus of others. Below, the shadows stopped their movements, twisting their faces up to him in shock and horror. Aidden felt his blood turn cold as he met the gaze of a hundred beady red eyes. Behind, the roaring light was everywhere and unstoppable, he could feel it’s powerful mass within inches from his back, prickling the hair on his neck with it’s impending doom… frantic, Aidden screamed, lunging forward off of the mountain – and suddenly waking from his nightmare into very odd circumstances.

The world passed around him on either side, through a distorted series of blue waves. Confused, the young man tried to reach out, but found his hands bound to the surface he lay upon. Looking down at his body, he discovered his feet, legs and chest all strapped, immobilizing him from all but the slightest of movement. Aidden squirmed to free a hand or arm, but with no success. The smell of sweat and Tarno leaves was overpowering, and the air had a stale quality that began to gag his breathing. A loud thud from below sent his small world flying, jarring his neck and back with the impact. The sudden sound of a horse whinny came from somewhere in front, and Aidden began to get an idea of his surroundings. He recalled the procession he had witnessed from his cell at Fort Kilgore – the chests brought by the Blue Dondels had been locked in a sturdy wagon, with thick, blue glass sides and an armored red top. Looking up once more, he was suddenly sure of where he was. They had put him in the wagon, most likely Lord Hayden’s last ditch attempt to hide his latest embarrassment before the King-to-be discovered him.

He choked on the scent of the medicated leaves… why then was he in the Northern Kings cart? And why was he being healed? Why was so much trouble being spent to see him back to health and safety? Would they have him recover only to torture him at whatever destination the wagon held? Perhaps that was the case; he sighed and rolled his eyes back into their sockets. Considering his luck, it was getting to the point where he would welcome a Dondel blade sticking deep within his belly. A sickening wave of nausea came over him as the cart jerked suddenly to the left, and he felt his midsection squirm from the motion of the ride and the medication wrapped around his wounds. Shutting his eyes tightly, Aidden made himself escape back into a deep sleep.

~~~

The afternoon sun was reaching it’s apex on this crisp, warm day in the Northern Mountains of Chiron, and it’s rays were finally touching a small cabin huddled deep in the wood. Outside the cabin, near its modest wooden doorway, an old, un-kept man sat at an enormous tree trunk, cross-legged and humming a cheerful tune to himself and the sparrows above. Happily, the old man tugged at his coarse gray beard, twirling the locks of matted hair with long dirty fingers from a heavily tanned, grimey hand. Upon the conclusion of his humming the old fellow stretched both arms to the sky, yawning deeply as he reached into the folds of his brown robes and pulled forth a lengthy wooden pipe. Long, blackened fingernails lovingly caressed the neck of the piece, and the elderly figure smiled in satisfaction as he examined his closest companion. The bowl at the end of his pipe was black and encrusted from countless years of usage, and the bottom layer of his brown teeth had actually moved aside in one section to allow for its consistent placement in his mouth. The old man sighed happily as he removed his pointed brown hat and placed it upon the stump. Filling his pipe with a fine weed from his home region, he then bowed deeply, cuffing the bowl with both hands and murmuring in a deep chant that sparked the tobacco to life. A fragrant aroma filled the crisp air, mixing with the scent of moss and trees. He closed his eyes in contentment, and began humming once again his favorite woodland songs.

At the other side of the large stump, a mug of glass and pewter was suddenly placed, filled to its rim with a hot, light-colored tea. Here now sat another aged man, well kept and garbed from head to toe in green, yet otherwise identical to his companion. He eased himself into the back of his chair, staring deeply and curiously at the man with whom he had joined company. Finally, the gentleman let his eyes close for sometime, as if in deep thought, and absent-mindedly began to sip his tea. There the two sat for an extended period as time slipped away from them. The first continued contently, humming a woodland hymn and releasing the finest of smoke rings, while the other sipped a full mug of piping-hot tea, eyes closed in contemplation. All around the pair the forest thrived with the sounds of life as the trees swayed in the gentle afternoon breeze, and the squirrels and birds hopped among their branches.

It was because of this tranquility that neither of them heard the small cabin door open and release a third man, identical to the fellow in green but for his bright blue robes and cobalt eyes.

The man proceeded to the stump and sat down next to his distracted brothers, examining the two with a subdued look of amusement. Long had the trio waited for this moment – almost the majority of their professional lives had been spent in diligent study and preparation for the age they now found themselves in, and yet there was no sense of panic or urgency among his two brethren. Little could be said for the others.

One year ago the three men and their four other brothers had seen a promised sign, telling them it was time to leave the comforts of their home and serve the people. They had been watching for it, his seven siblings and him, yet all had reacted differently when the day finally came. Metheriel and Mu Biao had been the first to take leave, announcing their intentions a week later in unison and departing the same day. Technically speaking, they were the oldest of the group, and quite eager to begin the work tasked to the Seven Brothers before their younger siblings had the chance to match or surpass them. As such, they were on the first ship leaving home long before anyone could have imagined.

Merthios had been next. Unpredictable as always, they had awoken one morning and simply found him missing, having slipped off into the night. There was no note or morning messenger to explain the sudden departure, and the remaining brothers were left only with each other to guess what had prompted their erratic brother to once again act so mysteriously. It had been his nature to be unpredictable and unreliable since the seven began their training in at the monastery. As a result, Merthios’ intentions and discipline were often questioned, especially by their brother Mondoc. It was Mondoc then who left the day after Merthios. In an enraged tirade, he departed to find his brother and hold him accountable for the suspicious nature of his departure. The other’s watched him leave in muted tones. There was nothing new about this type of behavior for either of the two; Mondoc had acted as Merthios’ authority figure throughout their time at the monastery, chasing and chastening him at every moment.

That then had left the remaining three, Mephisto the Blue, Majisto the Green, and Merion the Brown. Throughout their lives, the three had grown up together, constantly dealing with the tempers, egos and instabilities of their older siblings. Certainly each of the trio had their personality differences as well, as inherited from the respective art they studied. Yet they were also very much compatible, as are the calm and nourishing elements of water, wood, and earth.

“Well get on with it Mephisto.” the man in brown finally sighed, ending his humming and sitting upright in the chair as he snatched the beaten hat from it's sitting place and placed in back upon his head. From across the stump, one of Majisto’s bright green eyes shot open in surprise and he choked slightly on his tea, apparently unaware of their brother’s coming. Recovering quickly, the green-robed man rallied to support his brother.

“Yes, you’ve kept us out here long enough - waiting for you to come out of that cabin… and it’s a good thing we’ve been privy to this wonderful afternoon day to bide us by”. Mephisto’s smile deepened and he unpacked his own pipe, pewter neck and deep golden bowl glimmering dully in the sunlight.

“Well, my brothers… it IS good to see you here, as promised, after so long.” He packed and lit the piece much the same way as Merion had done, and the two began blowing ever-larger rings to encompass and out-do each other. Mephisto paused. “I’ve been meditating inside, trying to be sure that our course of action has so far been correct… and I think there is much more work to do than we anticipated”.

The thick skin on Merion’s face crinkled tightly, becoming a maze of deeply entrenched lines and wrinkles. “How do you mean brother?” Mephisto sighed and looked to his pipe.

“I have sensed something unexpected these last few months… the reason I kept you waiting now is because I wanted to be sure of my visions before I presented them to you…” Majisto bit his bottom lip and set down the mug he had been clasping in both hands… he had been with his brother long enough to trust the power of his visions, and his judgment in interpreting them. Now, it became clear that something could be very wrong.

“I don’t understand Mephisto.” He started, “We’ve seen the sign mentioned from ages past – we’ve all managed to keep tight our bonds of friendship from home in this far-away place… the wheels are in motion, and we are strong… what then is it that troubles you? What could be out of place?” He looked deeply into the cobalt eyes as he spoke, searching for a hint of what may be heading their way. Mephisto smiled further, rubbing the side of his pipe slowly as he contemplated his thoughts. There was no getting around it, and no avoiding the conversation he had started. He could feel their stares upon him as he mulled over his words, and finally resigned himself to speak.

“I have felt the presence of our teacher since coming over the Phoenix Mountains back east and into the lowlands here in the West. At first I wasn’t sure, and thought perhaps it was another powerful figure, or an artifact, long lost from the Kingdom of Gold… but now… there is no doubt. The presence I feel is identical to that of our teacher… and it moves from place to place with each passing month, raising and lowering in power levels.” Majisto swallowed hard, leaning intently now upon the stump and staring deeply at his brother.

“But Master Chapodon is dead, brother.” Merion spoke soothingly, “we saw him willingly take the journey to the beyond.” Mephisto looked to his brother’s caring face and smiled.

“I know Merion – and you need not worry, I have not lost memory of that day. However, it has reminded me of another, equally powerful man…”
Majisto scoffed, sitting back into his chair in indignation. “I knew you were leading up to him. Teacher’s brother left the monastery long, long ago Mephisto… he was sick with lunacy and lost to the chaos he studied so very deeply. Surely, he died long, long before Chapodon!” Majisto crossed his arms and looked doubtingly upon his sibling, but Mephisto held his ground.

“How then do you explain what you must also be vaguely aware of - in the swamps and mountains south of the Dondel camps? Surely you have felt something brothers!” Merion sighed and tapped the remaining weed from his pipe.

“That I have. The trees whisper of change below the mountains, brought upon them by the hand of man. But Teacher’s brother?! Honestly, I thought perhaps it was just the Dondels expanding south. Really Mephisto… are you so sure of your visions?” Mephisto nodded, fixing his gaze upon the pocked contours of the stump before him.

“I have searched deeply and often brothers – and I know of no other explanation. Still, perhaps I am mistaken”. He looked questioningly to the two, but behind his gaze sat an assurance they both knew well. He spoke the truth.

“Well then” Majisto started, “we’ll have to quicken our pace – if what you speak of is true, there is a high level of uncertainty we are suddenly faced with. Our Master’s colleague could be a help or hindrance to our cause”.

“Precisely my case” Mephisto frowned. At the moment, I do not think we need to change our plans, but it might be wise for us to accelerate them.

“Agreed” Merion coughed, putting his smoking piece away and binding his robes. “And I’ll tell you with no uncertainty that I fear the times to come. If this man is what you say, he wields enormous power, and most likely in no consistent way”. Mephisto nodded, thinking back to the stories of their childhood. Chapodon the Blue was the name of their teacher, and during their youth, his one peer had been an equal in skill and might. But he was unstable, constantly breaking protocol and testing the limits of his force in unacceptable ways. One day, he simply disappeared, never heard from again. Master had never spoken of him after that day, and the seven brothers had been very young when it happened. As such, the memory of the occasion was but a shadow now.

“If it is true, this man must be quite old – perhaps on the verge of death. We may want to search him out for council or advice, before his time arrives” Majisto mused, stroking the polished white mane at the base of his chin. Mephisto sighed.

“For better or worse, I fear he will find us. I’m sure he is aware of our existence. Even a man of much lesser strength than Master Chapodon at the time of his death would have the power to feel our presence in this land by now… and with great ease. No, better we continue as planned, and let him reveal himself if he so desires, and in his own good way. We must not lose focus on the task assigned us, and I do not to wish to anger a man as unpredictable and powerful as he.”

“Agreed, once more agreed.” Grunted Merion, rising slowly from his wooden chair at the stump. “We’ve much work to do then brothers, and I believe I should begin mine sooner rather than later… with the Dondels in disarray, our little friends are safe and strong, but if Dondel messengers manage to give word to their protectors in the Black School, all is for naught.”

“Very well, friends…” Majisto rose as well, gracefully sliding away from the stump and towards his white mare. “May the Spirit of the Plate be with you, and bless your journey”. Mephisto nodded to the man, and waved slowly to his other brother, now hobbling slowly away on the trail heading south, towards the eastern wood. Before long, both had turned the corner in the path away from his small cabin, and the Blue Wizard found himself alone once more, with little but his task to keep him company in the quite hours ahead. He sighed deeply and tapped clean his pipe.

“Bless your journey indeed, my old friends; bless us all in these dangerous times.”