September 6th 2012, 2:15 am, Wetterstein Mountains, Germany
"He has been found, then?"
The vaulted room had a tomb–like feel with the only light shining down upon a huge, three inch thick granite slab table that had been cut into the shape of a triangle. Three men occupied its equilateral sides, their forms wrapped in shadow. In the air, the aromatic scents of incense and cigar smoke mingled, giving the room the ambiance of a transcendent, otherworldly place.
"Of that you can be certain," replied a second voice. "Centuries of searching have brought us to the final two."
"Patience," replied the first voice.
The curious room with its enigmatic guests remained secluded amidst the mountains of Germany beneath a picturesque ski lodge. Housed in caverns long ago cut and quarried to hide both their presence and their activity from prying eyes, the seclusion and impenetrability of this particular locale was not of vital importance to its occupants. They had similar bunkers in similarly exotic and opulent locations all over the globe. This was no apocalyptic Illuminati holed up in their sinister castle just daring some British super–spy to infiltrate it. These men had long ago learned the value of mobility, secrecy and diversification. This locale simply served this purpose at this time. That was all.
The "Three Kings" was the only label their associates used in reference to them. These men had become the fathers of a society so ancient and secret that its name was not even spoken openly among its own brotherhood. The Kings represented the kind of power that even their associates only dreamed of: power over the minds of men, power over the machinery of nations and most notably, power over the elements of the earth, itself.
A bluish haze of smoke floated wraith–like into, then out of the single beam of light boring into the center of the table. The curious, triangular table served as more than an eccentric nicety. The brotherhood had always been led by three. Even from the beginning it had been so.
"What of the object of the fool's interest?" continued phantom number one.
"He is inconsequential," replied voice number two. "Even if he possessed the gift, which we're not certain that he does, he will have little means of learning what it is, let alone knowing how to control it sufficiently."
"And besides," he added softly, "the old man won't live long enough to be of any real help to him."
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Over the centuries, the influence of the brotherhood had become increasingly global. Associates could now be found in every industrialized nation of the world. They held some of the highest positions of power in those nations, either through legitimate prowess or illegitimate coercion. The associates possessed wealth, influence and the lives of those beholden to them. Most notably, they possessed .
"What of the last? Where did you find him?" the inquisitor continued.
The third shadow that had remained silent up until this time entered the discussion, quietly. He was an enigma even to the other two and had sat at the granite table longer than either of them. In fact, no one knew for exactly how long. Ignoring the last query he said in a voice barely above a whisper,
"He is mine."
The third King was not one to assert himself. He had no desire to overtly lead, only to subtly control. He was content to let the others manage the assets, the constituency and the logistics. His only interest was the end– game. And, for the first time in his long career it was in sight. Whether his power was greater than the others was neither known nor tested by them. They simply knew their place in relation to him and were content to occupy the stations he placed them in and the freedoms he allowed them, which were many.
"You will go, then?" said shadow number two.
"The vagabond is easily dealt with," said the third, "however, I will not trust an associate with the cleric. I have waited too long."
The others waited, deferentially, making certain that the last speaker had finished completely before daring to continue.
"That settles it, then. The time has finally come," replied speaker number one. "Geist, we will await your return from America before moving inside the EU. By then, the will no longer be a concern to us."
With that, the meeting ended and each man stood from his high–backed chair. Slowly, each of them reached out and rested both hands on the triangular, granite slab before them. With no signal passed, each began to draw up the elemental fire known to them as from below, their bared feet siphoning its power up through the limestone cavern floor. In moments, crimson lightning could be seen crackling underneath each man's feet as the room's shadows were driven away by an ephemeral reddish–hued glow.
The crimson fire entered their surrendered bodies. Slowly, it began to be released through their hands still resting firmly on the stone table. In seconds, the table glowed with the power's red tinge then began to turn white–hot as the intensity of increased, exponentially. In seconds, the table was a blazing inferno of liquid light and the three began to strengthen themselves and each other by filling hidden, inner reserves anew, stretching their capacity to hold the ephemeral element in preparation for times of future need. Each face became a mixture of total concentration and pure rapture. Each hand had become so one with the slab that it became impossible to tell where one began and the other ended.
Then, as subtly as the had heated the rock, it dissipated leaving each man standing with his head bowed and eyes closed as if in prayer. With no noticeable signal each man rose to full height, removed his hands from the table, then turned and exited the room; each from his own door opposite the chair he had occupied. The last trace of red vanished from the stone slab like a dying ember.
Then the room went dark.
