"We have chosen," one of the elves said.
Falric asked, "Chosen what?"
The gnome said, "Be silent, boy, you'll find out soon enough."
Turning to Scavell, the elf said, "You have trained all five of your students well, Magna Scavell."
Aegwynn frowned; she'd never heard that honorific before.
"However, there is one student that has stood out from the others. One student who has proven inquisitive in the ways of magic beyond ordinary curiosity, who has shown aptitude for spellcasting that is unparalleled, and who has already mastered the Meitre scrolls."
Now Aegwynn's heart raced. The night elf Meitre was a great wizard from many thousands of years ago. Elven mages didn't attempt to cast from Meitre's scrolls until the final year of their apprenticeships, and human mages often didn't even try until after that apprenticeship was completed. Aegwynn, however, was casting Meitre's spells at will by the end of her first year.
She had also been doing so in secret—Scavell insisted that it would "annoy the boys."
Falric looked at his fellow apprentices in turn. "Who was casting Meitre's spells?"
Grinning, Aegwynn said triumphantly, "I was."
"Who said you could do that?" Manfred asked angrily.
Speaking in his papery voice, Scavell said, "I did, young Manfred. And you and Falric would be wise not to speak out of turn again."
Bowing their heads, Falric and Manfred both said, "Yes, sir."
The elf went on: "What you must now be told, all of you, is that there is a war being fought. It is not known to the general populace, only to the community of wizards, of which all of you will some day soon be a part. Demons have invaded our world, and they grow more aggressive with each passing year, despite our best efforts to stymie them."
"Indeed," the gnome put in, earning him a mild glare from the elf, "likely because of those efforts, which serve only to anger them."
"Demons?" Natale sounded scared. He'd always had a fear of demons.
"Yes," one of the humans said. "At every turn, they try to destroy us. Only the wizards can stand against them."
"The Tirisfalen," the elf added, with a glance at the human that indicated that he didn't appreciate this interruption, either, "have been charged with protecting this world from demonkind, and we have created a Guardian. The finest young mages in the land are brought together by the current Guardian—your master Scavell, in this case—who trains them. We then determine which is the most qualified to become the new Guardian."
"The choice wasn't easy," the gnome said.
Jonas muttered, "It be a stupid choice."
"What did you say, young man?" another elf asked.
"I said the choice be stupid. Aegwynn's a girl. She be fit for a wise—woman, givin' out herbal remedies to the villagers or summat, but that be all! We all of us be mages!"
Aegwynn looked in shock and disgust at Jonas. She had grown rather fond of Jonas, and the two of them had slept together a couple of times. They had kept their liaison secret from the other apprentices, though Scavell knew about it—there was nothing that escaped the old mage's gaze. The last thing she had expected were those words from his lips—Falric's, maybe, he was a pompous ass, but not Jonas—and Aegwynn swore to herself that Jonas would never get her in bed again…
"It is true," an older human said with a sigh, "that women are emotional and prone to excessive displays that are unbecoming of a mage. But it is also true that Aegwynn has the most potential of any of the youths that Scavell has found, and we cannot afford for the Guardian to be anything less than the best—even if that means giving the position to a girl."
At that, Aegwynn bristled. "With respect, good sirs, I will be as good a mage as any of these boys. In fact, I think I will be better—because I had to overcome so much more to get here."
The elf chuckled. "She raises a fine point."
"So, waitasec," Natale said, "you mean that she's gonna be this, uh, whadayacall, Guardian thing, and we get, what, nothin'?"
"Not at all," the elf said. "You will each have important roles to play. All the wizards of our order are fighting this battle. It is simply that the Guardian's role is the most important."
Turning to her mentor, Aegwynn asked, "Scavell—what of you? Why are you giving up being Guardian?"
Scavell smiled. "I am old, my girl, and very tired. Fighting the hordes of demonkind is a game for the young. I wish to live out my few remaining years preparing the next generation." He turned to the boys. "Rest assured, I will continue to be your mentor."
"Swell," Falric muttered. All four boys were sulking.
"If anything," the gnome said testily, "the fact that you're being so immature about this is precisely why we chose Aegwynn over you."
"Besides," the older human added, "the Guardian must be the vessel of the council. I suspect that a girl will be less willful and will understand the chain of command, as it were."
"This isn't a military engagement," one of the other humans said.
Aegwynn couldn't help herself. "You described this as a war."
"Quite right," the elf said with a small chuckle. Then he looked right at Aegwynn with eyes that seemed to bore into her very soul. "You still have some preparations to undergo, girl, before you must undergo the transfer of power. The magic of all the Tirisfalen will be granted to you. Understand this, Aegwynn—you are taking on the gravest responsibility any mage can accept."
"I understand," Aegwynn said, though she wasn't entirely sure she did. But she wanted to be a mage more than anything else, and she knew that the primary responsibility of any wizard was to keep the world safe. At its best, magic was used by wizards to bring order to a chaotic world, and Aegwynn knew that that would be a lot of work.
She just hadn't realized how much work. Or what Scavell's real motives for showing her Meitre's scrolls were.
Falric stepped forward. "Dammit, I'm as good as any girl! Better, even! I can even cast one of Meitre's spells! Watch!" Falric closed his eyes, then opened them again and stared at a rock that was jutting up from the ground right in front of where the elf stood. He muttered an incantation, then repeated it—Meitre's spells all required double incantations, which Scavell had said was a security precaution.
A flash of light, and then the rock glowed faintly with a yellowish hue. Falric sneered at Aegwynn, and then grinned at the mages that surrounded them.
"Rock to gold," the gnome said. "How unoriginal."
"Actually," the elf said with a smile, "it is fool's gold."
Falric's grin fell. "What? It can't be!" He cast a quick identification spell, and then his face fell even farther. "Dammit!"
"You have a great deal to learn," the elf said, "but you have much potential, all of you. Falric, Manfred, Jonas, Natale, you will find that potential as Scavell's students." Again the soul—boring gaze. "Aegwynn, your destiny will come quite a bit sooner. We will reconvene in this glade in a month's time for the transfer of power. There is much you have to prepare for."
With that, all the councillors disappeared in a flash of light.
A month later, having taught Aegwynn about the legions of demons and their horrific minions that had been trying—and, through the grace of Guardians like Scavell, failing—to encroach upon the world, Scavell passed on the power of the Guardian to Aegwynn. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. Spells that once took all her concentration now required only the briefest of thoughts. Her perceptions changed as well, as she saw far beneath the surface of everything. Where it once took an effort—or a complex spell—to determine the nature of a plant or the emotional state of an animal, she could now divine it at the merest glance.