The Last Guardian (19 page)

“You seem to have gone to a great deal of trouble,” she said, and her face was unreadable to Khadgar.

“With sufficient magic and desire, nothing is impossible,” said the man, and turned over his
Page 72

hand, palm upward. Floating above his palm, a white orchid bloomed.

Aegwynn took the flower, raised it perfunctorily to her nose, then set it down on the table.

“Nielas…”

she began.

“Breakfast first,” said the mage Nielas. “See what a court conjurer may whip up first thing in the morning. These berries were picked from the royal gardens not more than a hour ago….”

“Nielas,” Aegwynn said again.

“Followed by slices of butter-fed ham and syrup,” continued the mage.

“Nielas,” Aegwynn repeated.

“Then perhaps some eggs of thevrocka, poached at the table in the shells by a simple spell I learned out on the isles…” said the mage.

“I am leaving,” said Aegwynn, simply.

A cloud passed over the mage’s face. “Leaving? So soon? Before breakfast? I mean, I thought we would have a chance to talk further.”

“I am leaving,” said Aegwynn. “I have my own tasks to complete, and little time for the pleasantries of the morning afterward.”

The court conjurer still looked confused. “I thought that after last night you would want to remain in the castle, at Stormwind, for a while.” He blinked at the woman, “Wouldn’t you?”

“No,” said Aegwynn. “Indeed, after last night, there is no need for me to remain at all. I have attained what I have come here for. There is no need for me to stay any longer.”

In the present, Khadgar winced as the pieces fell into place. Of course the mage’s voice sounded familiar.

“But I thought…” stammered the mage Nielas, but the Guardian shook her head.

“You, Nielas Aran, are an idiot,” said Aegwynn simply. “You are one of the mightiest sorcerers in the

Order of Tirisfal, and yet, you remain an idiot. That says something about the rest of the Order.”

Nielas Aran bridled. He meant to look irritated, but only looked petulant. “Now, wait a moment….”

“Surely you did not think that your natural charms alone brought me to your chamber, nor that your wit and sense of whimsy distracted me from our discussion of conjuration rites? Surely you realize that I

cannot be impressed by your position as court conjurer like some village cowherd would? And surely you must realize that seduction works both ways? You are notthat big an idiot, are you, Nielas Aran?”

“Of course not,” said the court conjurer, clearly stung by her words but refusing to admit it. “I just thought that, like civilized people, we might share a moment of breakfast.”

Aegwynn smiled, and Khadgar saw that it was a cruel smile. “I am as old as many dynasties, and got over my girlish indulgences early in my first century. I knew fully what I was doing coming to your chambers last night.”

“I thought…” said Nielas. “I just thought…” He struggled for the right words.

“That you, of all the Order, would be the one to charm and tame the great, wild Guardian?” said Aegwynn, the smile growing wider. “That you could break her to your will, where all the others had failed, through your charm and wit and parlor tricks? Harness the power of theTirisfalen to your own chariot? Come now, Nielas Aran. You have wasted much of your potential as it is, do not tell me that life in the royal court has corrupted you utterly. Leave me some respect for you.”

“But if you weren’t impressed,” said Nielas, his mind wrapping around what Aegwynn was saying, “if you didn’t want me, then why did we…”

Page 73

Aegwynn provided the answer. “I came to Stormwind for one thing I could not provide for myself, a suitable father to my heir. Yes, Nielas Aran, you can tell your fellow mages in the Order that you managed to bed the great and mighty Guardian. But you will also have to tell them that you provided me with a way of passing on my power without the Order having any further say in it.”

“I did?” The results of his actions began to sink in. “I suppose I did. But the Order would not like…”

“To be manipulated? To be countered? To be fooled?” said Aegwynn. “No, they will not. But they will not act against you, for fear that I truly do have some romantic interest in you. And take this solace—of all the mages, wizards, conjurers, and sorcerers, you were the one with the most potential. Your seed will protect and strengthen my child and make him the vessel for my power. And when he is born and weaned, you will even raise him, here, for I know he will follow my path, and even the Order would not want to miss that opportunity to influence him.”

Nielas Aran shook his head. “But I…” He stopped for moment. “But did you…” He stopped again. At last when he spoke, there was finally some fire in his eyes, and steel in his voice.

“Good-bye, Magna

Aegwynn.”

“Good-bye, Nielas Aran,” said Aegwynn. “It has been…pleasant.” And with that she turned on her heel and was gone from the room.

Nielas Aran, chief conjurer to the throne of Azeroth, conspirator in the Order of Tirisfal, and now father to the future Guardian Medivh, sat by the perfectly set table. He picked up a golden fork, turned it over and over in his fingers. Then he sighed, and dropped it on the floor.

The vision faded before the fork struck the marble floor, but Khadgar was aware of another noise, this one behind him. The sound of a boot scraping against cold stone. The soft scraping of a cloak. He was not alone.

Khadgar wheeled, but all he caught was a tantalizing glimpse of a black cloak’s back. The Emissary was spying on him. Bad enough he was sent away each time Medivh met with the stranger—now the

Emissary had run of the castle and was spying on him!

At once, Khadgar was on his feet and rushing for the entrance. By the time he reached the doorway, his prey was gone, but there was the sound of fabric brushing along stone down the stairs. Down toward the guest quarters.

Khadgar barreled forward down the stairs as well. The curve of the stairs would keep her to the outside rim, where the footing was broader and more sure. The younger mage had raced up and down these steps so many times he deftly danced down along the inner wall, skipping the stairs in twos and threes.

Halfway to the guest level Khadgar could see his prey’s shadow against the outer wall. As he reached the guest level itself he could see the cloaked figure, moving swiftly out through the archway and toward its door. Once the Emissary reached the guest quarters, he would lose his chance. Khadgar vaulted the last four steps in a single bound, and leapt forward to grasp the cloaked figure by the arm.

His hand closed on fabric and firm muscle, and he spun his prey toward the wall. “The Magus will want to know you’re spying….” he began, but the words died in his mouth as the cloak fell open to reveal the

Emissary.

She was dressed in traveling leathers, with high laced boots and black trousers and black silk blouse.

She was well-muscled, and Khadgar had no doubt that she had ridden the entire way here. But her skin was green, and as the hood fell back it revealed a jut-jawed, fanged orcish face. Tall
Page 74

greenish ears poked up from the mass of ebony hair.

“Orc!” shouted Khadgar, and reacted with an automatic response. He raised a hand, muttering a word of power, summoning the forces to drive a bolt of mystic power through her.

He never had the chance to finish. At the first opening of his mouth, the orc woman lashed out with a roundhouse kick, bringing her leg up to chest level. Her knee brushed aside Khadgar’s pointing hand, forcing his aim off. Her booted foot slammed into the side of Khadgar’s cheek, staggering him.

Khadgar staggered back and tasted blood—he must have bitten his cheek as a result of the blow. He raised his hand again to fire a bolt, but the orc was still too fast, faster than the armor-bound warriors he had fought earlier. Already she had closed the distance between them, driving a hard fist into his stomach, driving the wind from his lungs and the concentration from his mind.

The young mage snarled, abandoning magic for the moment in favor of a more direct approach.

Still smarting from the blow, he spun to one side, grasping the woman’s arm and pulling her off-balance. A

surprised look crossed the woman’s jade-shaded face, but only for a moment. She planted her feet firmly on the ground, pulled Khadgar toward her, and neatly broke and reversed the hold.

Khadgar caught a whiff of spices as he was drawn close to the orc, and then she threw him, bodily, down the hallway. He slid along the stone floor, bumping into the wall and at last coming to rest at someone else’s feet.

Looking up, Khadgar saw the castellan looking down on him, a look of vague concern on his face.

“Moroes!” shouted Khadgar. “Get back! Fetch the Magus! We have an orc in the tower!”

Moroes did not move, but instead looked up at the orcish woman with his bland, blinkered eyes.

“You all right, Emissary?”

The woman smirked, her greenish lips tucked back, and wrapped her cloak around herself.

“Never

better. Needed a little exercise. The whelp was kind enough to oblige.”

“Moroes!” spat the younger mage. “This woman is…”

“The Emissary. A guest of the Magus,” said Moroes, adding blandly, “Came to get you. Magus wants to see you.”

Khadgar pulled himself to his feet and looked sharply at the Emissary. “When you see the Magus, you’re going to tell him you’re snooping around?”

“Doesn’t want to see her,” corrected Moroes. “Wants to see you, Apprentice.”

“She’s an orc!” said Khadgar, louder and harsher than he meant to.

“Half-orc, really,” said Medivh. He was bent over his workbench, fiddling with a golden device, an astrolabe. “I surmise her homeland has humans, or near-humans, or at least had them within living memory. Hand me the calipers, Apprentice.”

“They tried to kill you!” shouted Khadgar.

“Orcs, you mean? Some did, true,” said Medivh calmly.“Some orcs tried to kill me. And kill you as well.

Garona wasn’t in that group. I don’t think she was, at any rate. She’s here as a representative for her people. Or at least some of her people.”

Garona. So the witch has a name,thought Khadgar. Instead he said, “We were attacked by orcs. I had a vision of attacks of orcs. I have been reading the communications from all over Azeroth, speaking of raids and attacks by orcs. Every mention of orcs speaks of their cruelty and violence. There seem to be more of them every day. This is a dangerous and savage race.”

“And she dispatched you easily, I assume,” said Medivh, looking up from his work.

Page 75

Despite himself, Khadgar touched the corner of his mouth, where the blood had already dried.

“That is completely beside the point.”

“Completely,” said Medivh. “And your point would be?”

“She is an orc. She is dangerous. And you have given her free rein in the tower.”

Medivh grumbled, and there was steel in his voice. “She is a half-orc. She is about as dangerous as you are, given the situation and inclination. And she is my guest and should be accorded all the respect of a guest. I expect this from you regarding my guests, Young Trust.”

Khadgar was silent for a moment, then tried a new approach. “She is the Emissary.”

“Yes.”

“Who is she the emissaryfor?”

“One or more of the clans that are currently inhabiting the Black Morass,” said Medivh. “I’m not quite

sure which ones, yet. We haven’t gotten that far.”

Khadgar blinked in surprise. “You let her into our tower, and she has no official standing?”

Medivh laid down the calibers and gave out a weary sigh. “She has presented herself to me as a representative of some of the orc clans that are presently raiding Azeroth. If this matter is going to be solved by any manner other than by fire and the sword, then someone has to start talking.

Here is as good a place as any.And, by the way, this is consideredmy tower, not ours. You are my student here, my apprentice, and are here at my whim. And as my student, as my apprentice, I expect you to keep an open mind.”

There was a silence as Khadgar tried to let this sink in. “So she represents whom? Some, none, or all of the orcs?”

“She represents, for the moment, herself,” said Medivh, letting out an irritated sigh. “Not all humans believe the same thing. There is no reason to believe that all orcs do, either. My question for you is, given your natural curiosity, why aren’t you already trying to pull as much information out of her as possible, instead of telling me I should not do the same? Unless you doubt me and my abilities to handle a single half-orc?”

Khadgar was silent, doubly embarrassed both for his actions and for failing to see another way.

Was he doubting Medivh? Was there even a chance that the Magus would act in a fashion not to uphold his

Order? The thoughts churned within him, fueled by Lothar’s words, the vision of the demon, and the politics of the Order. He wanted to warn the older man, but every word seemed to be turned back against him.

“I worry about you, at times,” he said at last.

“And I worry about you as well,” said the older mage, distractedly. “I seem to worry about a lot of things these days.”

Khadgar had to make one last attempt. “Sir, I think this Garona is a spy,” he said, simply. “I think she is here to learn as much as she can, to be used against you later.”

Medivh leaned back and gave the young man a wicked smile. “That is very much the pot calling the kettle black, young mageling. Or have you forgotten the list of things your own masters of the Kirin Tor wanted you to wheedle out of me when you first got to Karazhan?”

Khadgar’s ears were burning crimson as he left the room.

Eleven

Garona

He returned to his (well, Medivh’s) library to find her going over his notes. An immediate rage blossomed in his chest, but the sting of her blows, and Medivh’s chastisement, kept his anger in check.

“What are you doing?” he still said sharply.

Page 76

Emissary Garona’s fingers danced up from the papers. “Snooping, I believe you called it?