Free The Last Guardian by Jeff Grubb

glow of his own volition, diminishing the main fire, the burning wagons, and the burning corpses on the ground, sucking their light into himself. He seemed radiant and relaxed. He smiled at the collected creatures, and it was a savage, brutal smile.
    “My apprentice told you to leave,” said Medivh, “You should have followed his orders.”
    One of the beasts let out a bellow, and the rogue magus silenced it with a wave of his hand.
    Something hard and invisible struck the beast square in the face, and there was a shattering crack as its head came loose of its body and rolled backward, striking the ground only moments before the creature’s body struck the sand.
    The rest of the creatures staggered backward a step, then fled entirely into the night. Only the leader, the robed Nothgrin, held its ground, and its overwide jaw flapped open in surprise.
    “Nothgrin knows you, human,” he hissed. “You are the one….”
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    Anything else the creature said disappeared in a scream as Medivh waved a hand and the creature was pulled off its feet by a burst of air and fire. It was swept upward, screaming, until at last its lungs collapsed from the stress and remains of its burned body drifted down like black snowflakes.
    Khadgar looked at Medivh, and the wizard had a toothy, self-satisfied smile. The smile faded when he looked at Khadgar’s ashen face.
    “Are you all right, lad?” he asked.
    “Fine,” said Khadgar, feeling the weight of his exhaustion sweeping over him. He tried to sit but ended up just collapsing to his knees, his mind worn and empty.
    Medivh was at his side in a moment, passing a palm over the lad’s forehead. Khadgar tried to move the hand away, but found that he lacked the energy.
    “Rest,” said Medivh. “Recover your strength. The worst is over.”
    Khadgar nodded, blinking. He looked at the bodies around the fire. Medivh could have slain him as easily, in the library. What stayed his hand, then? Some recognition of Khadgar? Some bit of memory or
    of humanity?
    The young mage managed, “Those things.” His voice sounded slurred, “What were…”
    “Orcs,” said the Magus. “Those were orcs. Now no more questions for the moment.”
    To the east, the sky was lightening. To the south, there was the sound of bright horns and powerful hooves.
    “The cavalry at last,” said Medivh with a sigh. “Too loud and too late, but don’t tell them that.
    They can pick up the stragglers. Now rest.”

    The patrol swept through the camp, half of them dismounting, the remainder pressing up along the road.
    The horsemen began checking the bodies. A detail was assigned to bury the members of the caravan.
    The few dead orcs that Medivh had not set on fire were gathered and put on the main fire, their bodies charring as their flesh turned to ash.
    Khadgar didn’t remember Medivh leaving him, but he did return with the patrol’s commander.
    The commander was a stocky, older man, his face weathered by combat and campaign. His beard was already more salt than pepper, and his hairline had receded to the back of his head.
    He was a huge man, made all the more imposing by his plate armor and greatcape. Over one shoulder Khadgar could see the hilt of a huge sword, the crosspiece huge and jeweled.
    “Khadgar, this is Lord Anduin Lothar,” said Medivh, “Lothar, this is my apprentice, Khadgar of the
    Kirin Tor.”
    Khadgar’s mind spun and caught first on the name. Lord Lothar. The King’s Champion, boyhood companion of both King Llane and Medivh. The blade on his back had to be the Great Royal Sword, pledged to defend Azeroth, and…
    Did Medivh just say Khadgar was hisapprentice?
    Lothar dropped to one knee to bring himself level with the young man, and looked at him, smiling. “So you finally got an apprentice. Had to go to the Violet Citadel to find one, eh, Med?”
    “Find one of suitable merit, yes,” said Medivh.
    “And if it ties the local hedge wizards’ undies in a bundle, so much the