Cycle of Hatred (world of warcraft) Page 10

  This assurance lasted right up until she met Scavell, and he invited her to become an apprentice—making it clear that he wouldn't accept no for an answer. Her parents both wept openly that they were losing their little girl, but Aegwynn was thrilled. She was studying to become a mage!

  Back then, there were only three other apprentices—Falric, Jonas, and Manfred, who were as irritating as every other boy Aegwynn had known, but a little more tolerable. The fourth, Natale, came a year later.

  Today, Scavell announced that he was a member of a secret order known as the Guardians of Tirisfal. Aegwynn's first thought was that the forest she loved was named after them, but it turned out to be the other way around—they called themselves that because they met in those glades, and had for many centuries. This surprised Aegwynn, as she had never seen any of these meetings, despite making regular trips to the glades for years.

  Then Scavell said they were going to the glades to meet the Tirisfalen.

  The boys went on about secret societies and how amazing that was, like it was some kind of adventure, but Aegwynn didn't participate. She wanted to know what exactly this Tirisfalen was—Scavell was vague on the subject. Where the boys were content to trust Scavell's word, Aegwynn wanted to know more.

  "You'll see soon enough, my girl," Scavell had said in response to her question. He always called her "my girl."

  When Scavell brought them out to the glade, Aegwynn was confused, for there was no one in the clearing they stood in.

  Then, moments later, just as she was about to ask Scavell what was going on, there was a flash of light and she found herself, Scavell, and her fellow apprentices surrounded by seven people standing in a perfect circle around them. Three of them were human, three were elves, and one was a gnome. All of them were male.

  "We have chosen," one of the elves said.

  Falric asked, "Chosen what?"

  The gnome said, "Be silent, boy, you'll find out soon enough."

  Turning to Scavell, the elf said, "You have trained all five of your students well, Magna Scavell."

  Aegwynn frowned; she'd never heard that honorific before.

  "However, there is one student that has stood out from the others. One student who has proven inquisitive in the ways of magic beyond ordinary curiosity, who has shown aptitude for spellcasting that is unparalleled, and who has already mastered the Meitre scrolls."

  Now Aegwynn's heart raced. The night elf Meitre was a great wizard from many thousands of years ago. Elven mages didn't attempt to cast from Meitre's scrolls until the final year of their apprenticeships, and human mages often didn't even try until after that apprenticeship was completed. Aegwynn, however, was casting Meitre's spells at will by the end of her first year.

  She had also been doing so in secret—Scavell insisted that it would "annoy the boys."

  Falric looked at his fellow apprentices in turn. "Who was casting Meitre's spells?"

  Grinning, Aegwynn said triumphantly, "I was."

  "Who said you could do that?" Manfred asked angrily.

  Speaking in his papery voice, Scavell said, "I did, young Manfred. And you and Falric would be wise not to speak out of turn again."

  Bowing their heads, Falric and Manfred both said, "Yes, sir."

  The elf went on: "What you must now be told, all of you, is that there is a war being fought. It is not known to the general populace, only to the community of wizards, of which all of you will some day soon be a part. Demons have invaded our world, and they grow more aggressive with each passing year, despite our best efforts to stymie them."

  "Indeed," the gnome put in, earning him a mild glare from the elf, "likely because of those efforts, which serve only to anger them."

  "Demons?" Natale sounded scared. He'd always had a fear of demons.

  "Yes," one of the humans said. "At every turn, they try to destroy us. Only the wizards can stand against them."

  "The Tirisfalen," the elf added, with a glance at the human that indicated that he didn't appreciate this interruption, either, "have been charged with protecting this world from demonkind, and we have created a Guardian. The finest young mages in the land are brought together by the current Guardian—your master Scavell, in this case—who trains them. We then determine which is the most qualified to become the new Guardian."

  "The choice wasn't easy," the gnome said.

  Jonas muttered, "It be a stupid choice."

  "What did you say, young man?" another elf asked.

  "I said the choice be stupid. Aegwynn's a girl. She be fit for a wise—woman, givin' out herbal remedies to the villagers or summat, but that be all! We all of us be mages!"

  Aegwynn looked in shock and disgust at Jonas. She had grown rather fond of Jonas, and the two of them had slept together a couple of times. They had kept their liaison secret from the other apprentices, though Scavell knew about it—there was nothing that escaped the old mage's gaze. The last thing she had expected were those words from his lips—Falric's, maybe, he was a pompous ass, but not Jonas—and Aegwynn swore to herself that Jonas would never get her in bed again…

  "It is true," an older human said with a sigh, "that women are emotional and prone to excessive displays that are unbecoming of a mage. But it is also true that Aegwynn has the most potential of any of the youths that Scavell has found, and we cannot afford for the Guardian to be anything less than the best—even if that means giving the position to a girl."

  At that, Aegwynn bristled. "With respect, good sirs, I will be as good a mage as any of these boys. In fact, I think I will be better—because I had to overcome so much more to get here."

  The elf chuckled. "She raises a fine point."

  "So, waitasec," Natale said, "you mean that she's gonna be this, uh, whadayacall, Guardian thing, and we get, what, nothin'?"

  "Not at all," the elf said. "You will each have important roles to play. All the wizards of our order are fighting this battle. It is simply that the Guardian's role is the most important."

  Turning to her mentor, Aegwynn asked, "Scavell—what of you? Why are you giving up being Guardian?"

  Scavell smiled. "I am old, my girl, and very tired. Fighting the hordes of demonkind is a game for the young. I wish to live out my few remaining years preparing the next generation." He turned to the boys. "Rest assured, I will continue to be your mentor."

  "Swell," Falric muttered. All four boys were sulking.

  "If anything," the gnome said testily, "the fact that you're being so immature about this is precisely why we chose Aegwynn over you."

  "Besides," the older human added, "the Guardian must be the vessel of the council. I suspect that a girl will be less willful and will understand the chain of command, as it were."

  "This isn't a military engagement," one of the other humans said.

  Aegwynn couldn't help herself. "You described this as a war."

  "Quite right," the elf said with a small chuckle. Then he looked right at Aegwynn with eyes that seemed to bore into her very soul. "You still have some preparations to undergo, girl, before you must undergo the transfer of power. The magic of all the Tirisfalen will be granted to you. Understand this, Aegwynn—you are taking on the gravest responsibility any mage can accept."

  "I understand," Aegwynn said, though she wasn't entirely sure she did. But she wanted to be a mage more than anything else, and she knew that the primary responsibility of any wizard was to keep the world safe. At its best, magic was used by wizards to bring order to a chaotic world, and Aegwynn knew that that would be a lot of work.

  She just hadn't realized how much work. Or what Scavell's real motives for showing her Meitre's scrolls were.

  Falric stepped forward. "Dammit, I'm as good as any girl! Better, even! I can even cast one of Meitre's spells! Watch!" Falric closed his eyes, then opened them again and stared at a rock that was jutting up from the ground right in front of where the elf stood. He muttered an incantation, then repeated it—Meitre's spells all required double incantations, which Scav
ell had said was a security precaution.

  A flash of light, and then the rock glowed faintly with a yellowish hue. Falric sneered at Aegwynn, and then grinned at the mages that surrounded them.

  "Rock to gold," the gnome said. "How unoriginal."

  "Actually," the elf said with a smile, "it is fool's gold."

  Falric's grin fell. "What? It can't be!" He cast a quick identification spell, and then his face fell even farther. "Dammit!"

  "You have a great deal to learn," the elf said, "but you have much potential, all of you. Falric, Manfred, Jonas, Natale, you will find that potential as Scavell's students." Again the soul—boring gaze. "Aegwynn, your destiny will come quite a bit sooner. We will reconvene in this glade in a month's time for the transfer of power. There is much you have to prepare for."

  With that, all the councillors disappeared in a flash of light.

  A month later, having taught Aegwynn about the legions of demons and their horrific minions that had been trying—and, through the grace of Guardians like Scavell, failing—to encroach upon the world, Scavell passed on the power of the Guardian to Aegwynn. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. Spells that once took all her concentration now required only the briefest of thoughts. Her perceptions changed as well, as she saw far beneath the surface of everything. Where it once took an effort—or a complex spell—to determine the nature of a plant or the emotional state of an animal, she could now divine it at the merest glance.

  A year after that, Scavell died quietly in his sleep. When he realized he was dying, he had arranged to find new mages for Jonas, Natale, and Manfred to study under. Falric, at that point, was ready to be out on his own. Scavell willed all his belongings, as well as his servants, to Aegwynn.

  Less than a month after Scavell's death, Aegwynn returned from the small village of Jortas in time to receive a mystical summons from the council.

  As soon as she arrived at Tirisfal Glade, the gnome—whose name, she had since learned, was Erbag—said, "What do you think you were doing in Jortas?"

  "Saving them from Zmodlor." Aegwynn would have thought that her answer was self—evident.

  "And did you think to learn more about Zmodlor before you destroyed him? Did you plan a strategy that would dispose of him in a manner that would contain him without the populace of Jortas learning the truth? Or did you just blindly charge in and flail about, hoping you might succeed?"

  Fatigue and irritation combined to make Aegwynn a bit more forthright than she truly should have been with the council. "None of those, Erbag, as you well know. There was no time to plan such a strategy or learn more. Doing so would have endangered the children in the schoolhouse that Zmodlor had taken possession of. There were children in there. Was I to hang back and—"

  "What you were to do," Erbag said, "was as you were told. Did Scavell not teach you in the ways of the Tirisfalen? We proceed with caution and with—"

  Aegwynn interrupted the gnome right back. "What you do, Erbag, is react. And that's all you do, and it's why you've made so little headway against these foul creatures over the last several centuries. Zmodlor was able to take over an entire schoolhouse and was prepared to use the children of Jortas for a ritual that would have poisoned their souls. It was only purest chance that I detected the foul stench of demon—magic and was able to arrive in time. Your methods are reactive."

  "Of course they are!" Erbag was waving his arms back and forth now. "This council was created to react to the threat of the—"

  "And it hasn't worked. If we are truly to stand firm against these monsters who would invade and destroy our homes, we cannot allow them to encroach upon us so easily that they capture children before we even know they're here. We must be proactive in seeking them out and eliminating them, or we will be overrun."

  Erbag was not convinced. "And when the people start to realize that their lives are in danger and they panic uncontrollably?"

  Rather than reply to the question, Aegwynn looked at the other councillors. "Does Erbag speak for you all, or is he simply the loudest?"

  The oldest of the elves on the council, Relfthra, favored Aegwynn with a small smile. "Both, in fact, Magna." The smile fell. "Erbag is correct in that you are too reckless. Zmodlor was a minor demon in the service of Sargeras; he might have been able to provide us with useful intelligence about his master."

  "Yes, and he might have killed all those children before providing us with that intelligence."

  "Perhaps. But that is a risk that sometimes we must take in order to fight this war."

  Aegwynn was aghast. "We're talking about the lives of children. Besides which, this isn't a war, it's a holding action—at best. And it will get us all killed, child and adult alike, if we're not careful." Before any of the other mages could criticize her, she said, "August mages of the council, with all respect, I beg you—I am exhausted and wish to sleep. Is there anything else?"

  Relfthra's face darkened. "Remember your place, Magna Aegwynn. You are the Guardian, but you serve that function as the arm of the Council of Tirisfal. Never forget that."

  "I doubt that you will ever allow me to," Aegwynn muttered. "If that is all?"

  "For now," Relfthra said. The words were barely out of his mouth when Aegwynn teleported back to the Violet Citadel, in desperate need of sleep.

  Thirteen

  Lorena was disappointed, but not entirely surprised, to see Kristoff seated on Lady Proudmoore's throne. The lady herself avoided sitting on the thing whenever possible, but the chamberlain would insist on using it when he was left in charge.

  Kristoff wasn't so much sitting in the throne as draping himself on it. His thin shoulders were slumped, and he was seated at an angle, one leg hanging off the side. He was reading a scroll when Lorena came in, led by Duree. "Colonel Lorena to see you, sir," the old woman said meekly.

  "What is it, Colonel?" Kristoff asked without looking up from the scroll.

  "Private Strov has disappeared," she said without preamble.

  Now he looked up from the scroll, an eyebrow raised. "Is that name supposed to mean something to me?"

  "It is if you bothered to pay attention to meetings in the lady's chambers."

  Setting the scroll aside, Kristoff straightened in the throne. "Modify your tone when speaking to me in this room, Colonel."

  Lorena looked aghast at the chamberlain. "I'll speak to you how I please in whatever room we're standing in, thank you very much. Lady Proudmoore asked you to manage Theramore in her absence. That doesn't mean you get to be the lady." She smirked. "You haven't the equipment for it, for starters."

  Kristoff's eyebrows tented into a frown. "Until Lady Proudmoore returns, I am empowered to act in her stead, and you will treat that office with respect."

  "Your office is that of chamberlain, Kristoff, which entitles you to be an advisor to Lady Proudmoore, same as me. So don't go getting delusions of grandeur."

  Leaning back in the throne and picking the scroll back up, Kristoff asked in a bored voice, "You came in here for a reason?"

  "As I said, Private Strov has disappeared. He's the one I sent to investigate the Burning Blade. I've talked to his brother—Manuel says they arranged everything in the Demonsbane. Strov sat in a corner, Manuel talked to the person they thought was with the Burning Blade, and Strov followed him. That was the night before last, and I haven't heard a thing since."

  "And why is this my concern?" Kristoff still sounded bored.

  "Because, you gibbering imbecile, he was investigating this Burning Blade. The same Burning Blade that attacked me and my people in Northwatch. I think it's suspicious, don't you?"

  "Not particularly." He set the scroll down again. "People desert the military all the time. It's a sad reality—one that I would think you'd be aware of, Colonel."

  Tightly, Lorena said, "I am aware of it, Chamberlain, but I also know Strov. He'd sooner hack off a limb than desert. He's the best soldier I've got. I want to tear the island apart and find him."

 
"No."

  Lorena's hand went to her sword hilt instinctively, but she knew it would be foolish to stab the man sitting on Theramore's throne, however much he didn't deserve the seat and did deserve the stabbing. "What do you mean ‘no'?"

  "I assume the colonel is familiar with the definition of the word…"

  "Very funny." She took her hand away from the sword hilt and walked over to the room's large window, as much so she wouldn't have to look at Kristoff as anything. The skies were so clear that she could see Alcaz Island to the northeast. "This Burning Blade has me concerned, Chamberlain. They have use of magic, and they—"

  "Right now, Colonel, the Burning Blade is little more than a rumor—one, I might add, that you cannot substantiate, since your private has gone missing. I'm afraid I cannot devote Theramore's resources to finding a deserter—not when those resources are needed elsewhere."

  Whirling around, Lorena asked, "What are you talking about?"

  "Your arrival has saved me the trouble of summoning you," Kristoff said.

  Lorena had to wonder why he didn't bring this up in the first place, and said so.

  Sneering, Kristoff said, "It is not your place to question the person who sits on this throne, Colonel, merely to obey that person's orders. Right now, that person is telling you that I have just received word that orc troops are massing at Kolkar Crag. That's the nearest portion of Durotar to Northwatch."

  Not bothering to point out that she knew damn well what Kolkar Crag's location was, she asked with a frown, "When did this happen?"

  "Just this morning. Major Davin needs additional reinforcements, and I want you to lead them."

  While Lorena's job description did not include supervision of all troop movements within Theramore and Northwatch, it did include her being apprised of them. "Additional reinforcements? When was Northwatch reinforced?"