Free The Last Guardian by Jeff Grubb Page A

better, eh? Oh, don’t look at me like that, Medivh. What has this one done to impress you?”
    “Oh, the usual,” said Medivh, showing his teeth in a feral grin in response. “Organized my library. Tamed a gryphon on the first try. Took on these orcs single-handed, including a Page 30

    warlock.”
    Lothar let out a low whistle, “He organizedyour library? Iam impressed.” A smile flashed beneath his graying moustache.
    “Lord Lothar,” managed Khadgar finally. “Your skill is known even in Dalaran.”
    “You rest, lad,” said Lothar, putting a heavy gauntlet on the young mage’s shoulder. “We’ll get the rest
    of those creatures.”
    Khadgar shook his head. “You won’t. Not if you stay on the road.”
    The King’s Champion blinked in surprise, and Khadgar was not sure if it was because of his presumption or his words.
    “The lad’s right, I’m afraid,” said Medivh. “The orcs have taken to the swamp. They seem to know the
    Black Morass better than we do, and that’s what makes them so effective here. We stay on the roads, and they can run circles around us.”
    Lothar rubbed the back of his head with his gauntlet. “Maybe we could borrow some of those gryphons of yours to scout.”
    “The dwarves that trained them may have their opinions about loaning out their gryphons,” said Medivh.
    “But you might want to talk to them, and to the gnomes as well. They have a few whirligigs and sky-engines that might be more suitable for scouting.”
    Lothar nodded, and rubbed his chin. “How did you know they were here?”
    “I encountered one of their advance scouts near my domain,” said Medivh, as calmly as if he was discussing the weather. “I managed to squeeze out of him that there was a large party looking to raid along the Morass Road. I had hoped to arrive in time to warn them.” He looked at the devastation around them.
    The sunlight did little to help the appearance of the area. The smaller fires had burned out, and the air smelled of burning orcflesh. A pallid cloud hung over the site of the ambush.
    A young soldier, little more than Khadgar’s age, ran up to them. They had found a survivor, one that was pretty badly chewed up, but alive. Could the Magus come at once?
    “Stay with the lad,” said Medivh, “He’s still a little woozy from everything.” And with that the master mage strode across the scorched and bloody ground, his long robes trailing him like a banner.
    Khadgar tried to rise and follow him, but the King’s Champion put his heavy gauntlet on his shoulder and held him down. Khadgar struggled only for a moment, then returned to a seated position.
    Lothar regarded Khadgar with a smile. “So the old coot finally took on an assistant.”
    “Apprentice,” said Khadgar weakly, though he felt the pride rising in his chest. The feeling brought a new strength to his mind and limbs. “He’s had many assistants. They didn’t last. Or so I heard.”
    “Uh-huh,” said Lothar. “I recommended a few of those assistants, and they came back with tales of a haunted tower and a crazy, demanding mage. What do you think of him?”
    Khadgar blinked for moment. In the past twelve hours, Medivh had attacked him, shoved knowledge into his head, dragged him across the country on gryphon-back, and let him face off a handful of orcs before swooping in for the rescue. On the other hand, he had made Khadgar his apprentice. His student.
    Khadgar coughed and said, “He is more than I expected.”
    Lothar smiled again and there was genuine warmth in the smile. “He is more than anyone Page 31

    expected.
    That’s one of his good points.” Lothar thought for a moment and said, “That is a very politic and polite response.”
    Khadgar managed a weak smile. “Lordaeron is a very politic and polite land.”
    “So I’ve noticed in the King’s Council. ‘Dalaran ambassadors can say both yes and no at the same time, and say nothing as well.’ No insult intended.”
    “None taken, my