The Grand 9

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Though like all things everything changes and today was the day of Resolution. A bright flash of light flared in the sky and the Mages blocked their ears against a vicious ripping sound that accompanied the light. A light that signalled the Gods have chosen who would be their Supreme. The greatest honour bestowed to the first among Gods.

There are many theories upon how they, the Gods, would choose the leader of the Infinite Pantheon, the name given to the covenant of Gods. There are some that say the Gods would compete on how far they could throw a planet or who could build the brightest stars, but only a child would pay heed to the toothless men who told them these stories.

When the eyes of the Mages adjusted to the blinding light, they saw their first glimpse of the golden scales that marked the messenger. A portal as tall, and as wide as a small mountain slashed through the clouds.

The Mages marvelled at the sight of a Dragon as large as the clouds it soared through. It gracefully arched through the sky stretching its wings before diving into the amphitheatre, many in the crowd were surprised by how nimbly it landed on the Stage of Voices found in the Valley. The Golden Messenger shook its wings and its catlike eyes penetrated deep into the crowd.

The Stage of Voices was designed to magically enhance the voice who stood upon it, it was immense in size, and was able to hold a thousand men, yet it still could barely contain the bulk of The Golden Messenger. The Valley the name of the amphitheatre hasn't seen a Dragon in a millenia.

The breath of the Mages echoed across the Valley as they stood in awe. Every Mage standing on the floor or sitting in the Valley had the potential to topple mountains, but a Dragon is a matter all on its own. Dragons are the scions of the Gods. The combined might of every Mage in the stadium could not come close to the sheer power of a Dragon.

‘YOU MAGES THAT HAVE BEEN SEATED AT THE PINNACLE POWER. YOU WHO HAVE CREATED WONDER AND INSTIGATED DESTRUCTION WILL HEED ME.’ The Golden Messenger reared up as it spoke and the amphitheatre that surrounded the stage was dwarfed by the dragon's size. Few of the Mages pass out at its words and others grimace in its intensity. Dragon Speech has a force that can break the minds of humans and lesser beings (ordinary).

All Dragons had an empathic nature that aided it’s understanding of its environment on many levels, and it was irked to feel the anxiety of the Mages. Dragons though powerful, were benevolent beings. It calmly waited for their minds to steady as it sets about it’s task with a calm surety.

’THE MYSTIC GOD HAS FALLEN FROM THE THRONE.’ The Golden messenger announces over the gasps of the mages. ‘THE SWORD GOD HAS NOW BEEN CROWNED THE SUPREME. HAIL THE GOD OF SWORDS.' The Golden Messenger roars and the Mages collapse and not just by the force of the words but by the news itself. No one could have fathomed the Mystic God, the God of all magic could ever lose… and to the God of Swords of all things.

‘The Mystic God can’t have been defeated! He always wins!’

‘We cannot fight the hordes of Warriors that will want to revenge us.’

‘Who wants to revenge upon us? We’ve been nothing but good to the peasantry.’

‘We’re still the most powerful!’

‘Our magic is gone...’

‘Not gone only weakened. I say we’re still the ruling class!’

‘We are all going to die.’

‘Just because he lost doesn’t change the fact that we are the power of the land.’

The Golden Messenger surveys the Mages in disdain having zero patience for their nonsense. The Golden Messenger had many places to be and many ears to speak to. The Dragon spreads its wings and takes one last look at the pitiful Mages, watching them scurry like ants that had water poured over their nest. Unfurling its wings, it gave a mighty heave and the Dragon shot through the air and out of the amphitheatre, leaving behind the protesting Mages.

As the dragon rose in altitude and nears the closest cloud it let out a mighty roar. The clouds parted and a window to another sky can be seen. The Golden Messenger can open portals to other dimensions, a magic bestowed to the Golden Messenger by the Infinite Pantheon to do their bidding. It flies through the portal and disappears from the continent of Trustfall until he is again one day called upon to visit again.

The Mages cry out for the Golden Messenger to come back. Many more cry and pray in hopes that they may wish the Mystic God back into power. The crowd is about to explode into full blown hysteria before a tall man carefully parts himself from the crowd.

He exudes a calming and regal presence and strides sedately to the Stage of Voice. The Mages start to notice the man walking up the stairs to the Stage of Voice. Many think; Who is this man who dares to stand on the Stage of Voice reserved only for the noblest of beings. When the man reaches the centre of the stage and the Mages start to recognise who it is, the yelling and screaming soon come to a halt.

A Master of the arts, a hero of countless battles and a tactician with no equal the Raging Forest Artemisran takes the stage. One of the greatest Mages of his era with talents far surpassing the average Mage. He raises his hands for those who were too far to have not seen him stand on the stage. Waiting patiently he only lowers his hands only when the whispers quieten, and the collective breath of the audience is once again the only thing that can be heard.

‘This is a catastrophic event,’ Artemisran declared. His voice carrying comfortably to the back of the crowd with the aid of the Stage of Voice, ‘One that will shake the world!’ He said with the confidence of a man sure of himself. The crowd of Mages begin to cry out again until Artemisran clicks his finger. The Stage of Voices amplifies his click, cutting through the hubble, reverberating around the stadium and deafening the chatter until all falls silent.

‘The Mystic God has been defeated and his touch upon this world will lessen.’ At this he smiled a sad smile, but one of acceptance, and one you should smile at too if you knew what was good for you. ‘So what will we do?’ He looks to the crowd hoping someone would say something so he can crush them. ‘We will WIN!’ The crowd broke into cheers and Artemisran raises an arm to cast a geyser of fire to inspire the common Mages.

He was waiting for more cheering maybe for some to join him and cast some flames too, yet all he saw were faces etched with horror staring at him. He couldn’t understand why they would be afraid; they’ve seen Artemisran perform this spell hundreds of times. Trying to figure out what could possibly elicit this reaction he notices the light emanating from his hand. He can see that it was not as bright as it used to be. Artemisran tentatively raises his head dreading what his heart was already telling him.

The poor Raging Forest Artemisran fell to his knees when he saw what all of his might could do. Where one would expect a roaring furnace shooting from his hand reaching beyond the clouds, all he could produce was a pitiful flame no taller than he was. Artemisran’s magic had been weakened beyond measure.

‘We’re DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMED!’ Pandemonium broke loose and the crowd started to stampede. Running in droves trying to squeeze through the gates.

****

The Council of the Grand 9 watched, high up in their private viewing box as their brethren descended into madness. The Arches that mark the gates were close to being bottlenecked by the Mages who could only think of one thing. Run. Some of The Grand 9 felt close to doing the same yet the Grand 9 tried to hold on to their dignity as those below discarded theirs.

‘Well at least the Raging Forest was right about one thing.’ The Sickest One snickered sitting on the balconies edge, his deep red robe fluttering in the wind as he swung his legs back and forth. ‘This is a catastrophe.’ Maniacal laughter escapes his mouth as he watches the chaos down below.

‘Do you think it wise to make jokes now?’ The Coldest one whispered as frost escapes her mouth. ‘We will see many faces broken and dusted.’ Her cowl was deep enough to hide most of her face except for her lips. Lips that were blue as ice that no one dare ask if they were painted, or a side effect for her penchant in ice magic.

‘This is the perfect time to make jokes, Shiva the Cold.’ The Sickest One replied turning around trying to give his version of a sincere smile which only made his eyes have a sinister glow. ‘And we are all the grand butt of it.’

‘We just need to band together and figure out a plan.' The Unyielding One spoke as he stood up from his chair so he could face all the members of his grand company, ‘We can still turn this around.'

‘Turn this around? TURN THIS AROUND!’ The Furthest One screeched exploding from his chair all members sharply turning to him. ‘You know that will never happen.’ His robes enchanted to reflect his emotions. It was made from a material that could only be harvested from a rare creature in another dimension. The colour a sickly green to represent his horror.

‘We will all be hunted down, and tortured! The time of the Mage is over.’ The Furthest One ripped the badge off his left shoulder. A badge that marked his station within the Grand 9 and throws it down at their feet before escaping out the door.

‘Well the Furthest One wants to be “furthest one.”’ The Strangest One sighed leaning against the wall. The arms of his robes cut off, and his large stature frightening most before he would even utter his first spell. ‘First we kill the traitor, then run to the Sanctified Cliffs.’ He crosses arms as big as most men’s legs indicating he was finished talking. ‘Also family I guess.’ He guesses now he was done talking.

‘I am going to have to agree with the Strangest One.’ The Blue eyed One said nodding to the Strangest One. She, the only member to fully grasp what the Strangest One meant. ‘It will not be worth the trouble organizing and funding a war right now. Especially when we can’t measure or gauge the true strength of our troops.’ The Blue eyed one pauses and fixes her ponytail. ‘And may I ask that we let loose the Aweless One on to the Furthest one?’ The Council members all nodded in agreement, her beauty giving weight to her words for not many were able to resist her charms.

‘Oh yes I am getting wet thinking about it.’ The Aweless One excitedly pulled out her knife sliding her tongue up the side of the blade, activating the glyphs inscribed on it with her tongue. The glyphs light up with a mystical purple hue. ‘He won’t live beyond today, or maybe tomorrow after I have my fun.’

‘Do we need to kill the Furthest one?’ The Bridging One asked. Her big eyes imploring the rest of the group to show compassion. ‘He has served well on the council table and has never known cowardice until now. Anyone, even I feel my heart ready to burst and feet ready to fly.’

‘Do not be soft.’ The Ancient One spoke his raspy voice bringing a chill even the Coldest one couldn't stand. ‘The difference. He ran without us, his family.’ The Ancient One clapped his hands ‘It is finished and done.’ The Ancient One spoke with finality that no one dared oppose.

'Aye.' The Bridging one agreed, sighing ruefully. Yet she still believed in forgiving the Furthest One.

The Faintest one walked out from the shadows and joined the rest of the circle. The Station of the Faintest One was to never speak only to hold a safe space should any members wish to engage in more than just debate. The Faintest one held out his hand conjuring a small sphere of light from his hand. The members followed suit and conjured a light of their own. Each of the eight lights was a different colour, and when the Grand Council focused on their own light it grew tendrils that connected with the other lights to create an intricate lace work of patterns.

‘We have all agreed and are all committed,’ The Faintest one paused straining to keep the pattern alive. The spell using far more magic than it originally used too. ‘Let us end our meeting until all our dreams unite.’ The Faintest one collapsed the pattern, and began to pant at the effort of having to sustain what was once considered an effortless spell.

The Grand Council now looked at each other with grim disbelief at their current situation, and all quickly turned away from each other before they could see what was on all of their faces. Fear.