Jeff Grubb - The Last Guardian

The protective wards blazed as Medivh moved into them, and Khadgar could see the fields distorting around the Magus’s outstretched palms. The flickering of the sparks seemed to catch Medivh’s beard on fire, and smoke curled up like horns from his forehead.

And then Khadgar’s heart sank, for he realized that what he was seeing was another image, this one laid over the image of the beloved mage. The image that belonged to the second shadow.

“He’s going to get through,” said Garona.

Khadgar gritted his teeth, “Eventually. He’s pouring huge amounts of power into breaking the circle.”

“Can he do that?” asked the half-orc.

“He’s the Guardian of Tirisfal,” said Khadgar. “He can do whatever he wants. It just takes time.”

“Well, can we get out of here?” Garona sounded panicked now.

“Only way out is past him,” said Khadgar.

Garona looked around. “Blow out a wall, then. New exit.”

Khadgar looked at the stonework of the tower, but shook his head.

“Well, try something!”

“I’ll try this,” said Khadgar. Before them, the figure of Medivh, taller now and wreathed in lightning, loomed up in the smoke.

Calming himself, he pulled the magical energies into himself. He made the motions he had made only minutes before, and intoned the words lost to mortal men, and when he had compressed the energies into a single ball of light, he released it.

“Bring me a vision,” said Khadgar, “of one who has fought this beast before!”

There was a brief bit of disorientation, and for a moment Khadgar thought the spell had misfired and transported them to the observatory atop the tower. But no, it was now night around them, and an imperious, angry female voice split the air.

“You dare strike your own mother?” shouted Aegwynn, her own face livid with rage.

Aegwynn stood at one end of the observatory deck, Medivh at the other. It was Medivh as he knew him—tall, proud, and apparently worried. Neither she nor the past-Medivh paid any attention to either Khadgar or Garona. With a start, Khadgar realized that the present incarnation of Medivh was present as well, sparkling along one wall. The pair from the past ignored him as well, but the present-Medivh was watching the spectacle played out before them.

“Mother, I thought you were being hysterical,” said the past-Medivh.

“So a mystic bolt would bring me to my senses?” snapped the previous Guardian. Khadgar saw that she was much older now. Her blond hair was now white, and there were tight wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Still, she held the presence of the earlier forms he had seen. “Now,” she said, “answer my question.”

“Mother, you’re not seeing things right,” said the past-Medivh.

“Answer,” snapped Aegwynn sternly. “Why did you bring the orcs to Azeroth?”

“No wonder he was so testy when you asked him that,” said Garona. Khadgar shushed her, and kept an eye on the present-Medivh. The present incarnation had ceased to press against the walls of the wards, and his face seemed to have lost its emotion.

“Mother?” said the present-Medivh. His face looked credulous.

“You don’t HAVE an answer, do you?” said Aegwynn. “This is some little game you’re playing. Some challenge for Llane and Lothar to amuse themselves with? The power of the Tirisfalen is no game, child. There are more orcs coming in all the time, and I am hearing of caravans being raided near the Black Morass. A novice could track back to your Portal, but only your mother would be able to taste the power that wrapped it. Again, child, how do you account for yourself?”

Khadgar wilted under the older woman’s invective, and half-expected the past-Medivh to flee the room. Instead, Medivh surprised him. He laughed deeply.

“Does your mother’s disproval amuse you, child?” said Aegwynn sternly.

“No,” said Medivh, flashing a deep, predatory grin. “But my mother’s stupidity does.”

Khadgar looked across the room, and saw the present-Medivh flinch at the sound of his past incarnation’s words.

“You dare,” thundered Aegwynn, raising her hand. A sphere of blazing-white light erupted from her palm and lanced toward the past-Medivh. The Magus raised a hand and turned it aside with ease.

“I do, Mother,” said the phantom of the past. “And I have the power for it. The power that you invested me with at my conception, a power that I did not want or request.” The phantom-Medivh gestured, and the topmost floor was alight with a blazing bolt. Aegwynn caught the energy herself, but Khadgar noted that she had to raise both hands, and still was staggered back.

“But why did you let the orcs into Azeroth?” hissed the older woman. “There is no need. You put entire populations at risk, and to what end?”

“To break the cycle, of course,” said the past-Medivh. “To smash the clockwork universe that you have built for me. Everything in its place, including your child. If you could not continue on as Guardian, your hand-picked, born and groomed successor would, but would be locked into his script as tightly as any of your other pawns.”

The present-Medivh had sunk to his knees, his eyes locked on the tableaux before him. He was mouthing the words that his past-self had spoken.

Garona tugged on Khadgar’s sleeve, and he nodded. The pair left the heart of the wards, and began to edge around the room, trying to ease behind the present incarnation of the Magus.

“But, the risk, child…” said Aegwynn.

“Risk?” said Medivh. “Risk to whom? Not to me, not with the power of the Tirisfalen at my command. To the rest of the Order? They worry more about internal politics than demons. To the human nations? Fat and happy, protected from dangers that they do not even know about? Is anyone important really at risk?”

“You’re playing with forces greater than yourself, Son,” said Aegwynn. Khadgar and Garona were nearly to the door, but the present-Medivh was held rapt by the vision.

“Oh, of course,” said the Magus’s past with a snarl. “Thinking that I could handle powers like that would be the sin of Pride. Sort of like thinking you could match wits with a demon lord and come out on top.”

They were behind Medivh now, and Garona reached for the knife inside her blouse. Khadgar stopped her hand and shook his head. They slipped behind Medivh. Tears were starting to form at the old man’s eyes.

“What happens if these orcs succeed?” said Aegwynn. “They worship dark gods and shadows. Why would you give Azeroth to them?”

“ When they succeed,” said the past Medivh, “they will make me their leader. They respect strength, Mother, unlike you or the rest of this sorry world. And thanks to you, I am the strongest thing in this world. And I will have broken the shackles that you and others have placed on me, and I will rule.”

There was a silence in the vision, and Khadgar and Garona froze, holding their breath. Would the present Medivh notice them in the silence?

Aegwynn, speaking from the years past, held his attention. “You are not my son,” she said.

The present Medivh put his face in his hands. His past version said, “No. I have never been your son. Never truly yours, in any case.”

And the past Magus laughed. It was a deep, thundering laugh that Khadgar had heard before, on the icy steppes, when last these two battled.

Aegwynn looked shocked, “Sargeras?” she spat, in final recognition. “I killed you.”

“You killed a body, witch. You only killed my physical form!” snarled the Medivh of the past, and already Khadgar could see the overlay of the second being, the alternate shadow, that consumed him. A creature of shadow and flame, with a beard of fire and great ebon horns. “Killed it and hid it away in a tomb beneath the sea. But I was willing to sacrifice it to gain a greater prize.”