The Last Guardian (16 page)

Khadgar looked out at the city again, wondering if he had Medivh’s talent to bluster his way past the older man, to deny answers without causing affront.

No, he decided, Medivh played on loyalties and friendships older than he was. He had to find another way to respond. He let out a sigh and said, “Demanding. He’s very demanding. And intelligent. And surprising. I feel I have apprenticed myself to a whirlwind, sometimes.” He looked at Lothar, his eyebrows raised, hoping that this would be sufficient.

Lothar nodded, “A whirlwind, aye. And a thunderstorm, too, I suspect.”

Khadgar shrugged awkwardly. “He has his moods, like anyone.”

“Hmmpph,” said the King’s Champion. “An ostler has a mood and he kicks the dog. A mage has his moods and a town disappears. No offense meant.”

“None taken, milord,” said Khadgar, thinking of the dead mages in the tower room. “You ask how he is.

He’s all these things.”

“Hmmmph,” said Lothar again. “He’s a very powerful person.”

Khadgar thoughtand you worry about him like the other wizards do. Instead he said, “He speaks well of you.”

“What did he say?” said Lothar, more quickly than perhaps he meant to.

“Only,” Khadgar chose his words carefully, “that you served him well when he was ill.”

“True enough,” grunted the Champion, starting into the other drumstick.

“And that you are extremely observant,” added Khadgar, feeling that this was a sufficient distillation of

Medivh’s opinion of the warrior.

“Glad to know he notices,” said Lothar, with a full mouth. There was a pause between the two of them, as Lothar chewed and swallowed. “Has he mentioned the Guardian?”

“We have spoken,” said Khadgar, feeling that he was on a very narrow verbal cliff. Medivh did not tell him how much Lothar knew. He settled for silence as the best answer, and let the statement hang in the air for a moment.

“And it is not the Apprentice’s place to discuss the doings of the Master, eh?” said Lothar, with a smile that seemed just a jot too forced. “Come now, you’re from Dalaran. That nest of mage-vipers has more secrets per square foot than any other place on the continent. No offense, again.”

Khadgar shrugged off the comment. Diplomatically, he stated, “I notice that there is less obvious rivalry between mages here than in Lordaeron.”

“And you mean to tell me that your teachers didn’t send you out with a laundry list of things to pry out of the high Magus?” Lothar’s grin deepened, and looked almost sympathetic.

Khadgar felt some heat in his face. The older warrior was firing bow shots increasingly close to the gold.

“Any requests from the Violet Citadel are under Medivh’s consideration. He has beenvery accommodating.”

“Hmmph,” snorted Lothar. “Must mean they aren’t asking for the right stuff. I know the mages around here, including Huglar and Hugarin, the saints rest their souls, were always pestering him
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for this and that, and complaining to His Majesty or myself when they didn’t get it. Like we had any control over him!”

“I don’t think anyone does,” said Khadgar, drowning any additional comment he might have made in his ale.

“Not even his mother, I understand,” said Lothar. It was a small comment, but it slipped in like a dagger thrust. Khadgar found himself wanting to ask Lothar more about her, but contained himself.

“I fear I am too young to know,” he said. “I’ve read some on her. She seems like a powerful mage.”

“And that power is inhim, now,” said Lothar. She whelped him from a conjurer of this very court, and weaned him on pure magestuff, and poured her power into him. Yes, I know all about it, pieced it together after he went into that coma. Too much, too young. Even now I’m concerned.”

“You think he’s too powerful,” said Khadgar, and Lothar froze him with a sudden, penetrating stare.

The young mage kicked himself for speaking his mind, practically accusing his host.

Lothar let out a smile and shook his head. “On the contrary, lad, I worry that he’s not powerfulenough.

There are horrible things afoot in the kingdoms. Those orc-things you saw a month ago, they’re multiplying like rabbits after a rain. And trolls, nearly extinct, have been seen more often. And Medivh is out hunting a demon even as we speak. Bad times are coming, and I hope, no, Ipray, that he’s up to it.

We went for twenty-some years without a Guardian, when he was in a coma. I don’t want to go another twenty, particularly at a time like this.”

Khadgar felt embarrassed now. “So when you ask, How is he? You mean…”

“Howis he?” finished Lothar. “I don’t want him weakening at a time like this. Orcs, trolls, demons, and then there is…” Lothar let his voice trail off and looked at Khadgar, then said,

“You know of the

Guardian, by now, I can assume?”

“You can assume,” said Khadgar.

“And the Order, too?” said Lothar, then he smiled. “No need to say anything, young man, your eyes gave yourself away. Never play cards with me, eh?”

Khadgar felt on the very precipice itself. Medivh warned him not to let too much loose to the Champion, but Lothar seemed to know as much as Khadgar knew. More, even.

Lothar spoke in a calm voice. “We would not send for Med for a simple matter of a magical misfire.

Nor even two common conjurers being caught in their own spells. Huglar and Hugarin were two of our best, two of our most powerful. There was another, even more powerful, but she met an accident two months back. All three, I believe, were members of your Order.”

Khadgar felt a chill creep up his back. He managed to say, “I don’t think I’m comfortable speaking of this.”

“Then don’t,” said Lothar, his brows furrowed like the foothills of some ancient mountain chain.

“Three powerful mages, the most powerful in Azeroth. Not a patch on Med or his mother, mind you, but great and powerful wizards nonetheless. All dead. I can buy one mage being unlucky, or being caught unawares, but three of them? A warrior doesn’t believe in that much coincidence.

“There’s more,” continued the King’s Champion. “I have my own ways of finding out things.

Caravan traders, mercenaries, and adventurers that come into the city often find a receptive ear with old Lothar.

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Word comes from Ironforge and Alterac, and even from Lordaeron itself. There has been a plague of such mishaps, one after another. I think someone, or worse yet, something is hunting the great mages of this secret Order. Both here, and in Dalaran itself, I don’t doubt.”

Khadgar realized that the older man was studying his face as he spoke, and with a start he realized that this fit into the rumors he heard before leaving the Violet Citadel. Ancient mages, suddenly gone, and the upper echelons quietly hushing it up. The great secret among the Kirin Tor, part of a greater problem.

Despite himself, Khadgar looked away, out over the city. “Yes, Dalaran too, it seems,” said Lothar.

“Not much news comes from there, but I’m willing to bet that the news is similar, eh?”

“You think that the Lord Magus is in danger?” asked Khadgar. The desire to not tell Lothar anything was eroding by the obvious concern of the older warrior.

“I think Medivh is danger incarnate,” said Lothar. “And I admire anyone willing to be under the same roof with him.” It sounded like a joke, but the King’s Champion did not smile. “But yes, something is out

there, and it may be tied with the demons or the orcs or something much worse. And I would hate to lose our most powerful weapon at a time like this.”

Khadgar looked at Lothar, trying to read the furrows of the older man’s face. Was this old warrior worried about his friend, or worried about the loss of a magical protection? Was his concern about

Medivh’s safety, out in the middle of the wilderness, or that something was stalking them all?

The older man’s face seemed like a mask, and his deep sea-blue eyes gave no clue as to what Lothar was truly thinking.

Khadgar had expected a simple swordsman, a knight devoted to duty, but the King’s Champion was more than this. He was pushing Khadgar, looking for weakness, looking for information, but to what end?

I need someone to guard the Guardian,Medivh had said.

“He is fine,” said Khadgar. “You are worried about him, and I share your concerns. But he is doing well, and I doubt anything or anyone can truly hurt him.”

Lothar’s unfathomable eyes seemed to deflate for a moment, but only a flickering moment. He was going to say something else, to renew the prying, friendly inquisition, but a commotion within the tower drew both their attention away from the discussion, away from the now-empty mugs and the bare bones of the fowl.

Medivh swaggered into view, followed by a crew of servants and guardsmen. All complained about his presence, but none would (wisely) place a hand on him, and as a result followed him like a living, mewling comet’s tale. The older mage strode out onto the parapet.

“I thought you a creature of habit, Lothar,” said Medivh. “I knew you’d be out here taking afternoon tea!” The Magus beamed a warm smile, but Khadgar saw there was a slight, almost drunken sway to his walk. Medivh kept one arm behind him, concealing something.

Lothar rose, concern in his voice. “Medivh are you all right? The demon…”

“Ah, yes, the demon,” said Medivh brightly and pulled his bloodied prize out from behind his back. He lobbed it at Lothar and Khadgar in a lazy, underhanded swing.

The red orb spun as it flew, spilling the last bits of blood and brains out before landing at Lothar’s feet. It was a demon’s skull, the flesh still adhered to it, with a mighty divot, like that of a great ax, driven into the center, right between the ramlike horns. The demon’s expression, Khadgar thought, was one of both awe and indignation.

“You might want to have that stuffed,” said Medivh, pulling himself seriously to his full height.

“Had to burn the rest of it, of course. No telling what the inexperienced might do with a draught of demon’s blood.”

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Khadgar saw that Medivh’s face was more pinched than it had been earlier, and that the lines around his eyes were more prominent. Lothar may have caught it as well, and remarked, “You caught it quite quickly.”

“Child’s play!” said Medivh. “Once Young Trust here pointed out how the demon fled the castle, it was a simple matter to track it from the tower’s base to a small escarpment. It was over before I knew it.

Before it knew it either.” The Magus swayed slightly.

“Come then,” said Lothar, with a warm smile. “We should tell the King. There should be reveling in your honor for this, Med!”

Medivh held up a hand. “You may revel without us, I am afraid. We should get back. Miles to go before we rest. Isn’t that right, Apprentice?”

Lothar looked at Khadgar, again with a questioning, imploring look. Medivh looked calm but worn. He also looked expectant for Khadgar to support him this time.

The young mage coughed, “Of course. We left an experiment on the boil.”

“Indeed!” said Medivh, picking up the lie immediately. “In our rush to get here, I had quite forgotten.

We should make haste.” The Magus wheeled and bellowed at the collected courtiers. “Make ready our mounts! We leave at once.” The servants dissolved like a covey of quail. Medivh turned back to Lothar.

“You will make our apologies to His Majesty, of course.”

Lothar looked at Medivh, then at Khadgar, then at Medivh again. At last he sighed and said, “Of course. Let me lead you to the tower, at least.”

“Lead on,” said Medivh. “Don’t forget to take your skull. I’d keep it myself, but I have one like it already.”

Lothar hefted the ram-headed skull in one hand and brushed past Medivh, leading into the tower itself.

As he passed, the Magus seemed to deflate, the air going out of him. He looked more tired than before, grayer than he had been moments earlier. He let out a heavy sigh and headed for the door himself.

Khadgar chased after him and caught him by the elbow. It was light touch, but the elder mage suddenly pulled himself upright, flinching as if reacting to a blow. He turned to Khadgar, and his eyes seemed to mist over for a moment as he looked at the younger mage.

“Magus,” said Khadgar.

“What is it now?” said Medivh in a hissing whisper.

Khadgar thought about what to say, how to risk the Magus’s censure. “You’re not well,” he said, simply.

It was the right thing to say. Medivh gave an aged nod, and said, “I’ve been better. Lothar probably knows as well, but he won’t challenge me on it. But I’d rather be home than here.” He paused for a moment, and his lips formed a stiff line beneath his beard. “I was sick for a long time, here. Don’t want to repeat the experience.”

Khadgar didn’t say anything, but only nodded. Lothar now stood at the door, waiting.

“You’re going to have to lead the way back to Karazhan,” said Medivh to Khadgar, loud enough for all nearby to hear. “This city life takes too much out of a man, and I could use a nap about now!”

Nine

The Slumber of the Magus

This is very important,” said Medivh, staggering slightly as he slid from the back of the gryphon.

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He looked haggard, and Khadgar assumed the battle with the demon had been worse than even he let on.

“I will be…unavailable for a few days,” continued the older Mage. “If any messengers arrive during this time, I want you to keep track of my correspondence.”

“I can do that,” said Khadgar, “easily.”

“No you can’t,” said Medivh, starting roughly down the stairs. “That is why I need to tell you how to read the ones with the purple seal. The purple seal is always Order business.”

Khadgar said nothing this time, but just nodded.

Medivh slid on the edge of the stairs and stumbled, pitching forward headlong. Khadgar lunged to grab the older man, but the Magus had already caught himself against the wall and pulled himself upright. He didn’t miss a beat, “In the library, there is a scroll. ‘The Song of Aegwynn.’

Tells of my mother’s battle with Sargeras.”

“The scroll that Guzbah wanted a copy of,” said Khadgar, now watching the mage carefully as he lurched down the stairs ahead of him.