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.
A year after that, Scavell died quietly in his sleep. When he realized he was dying, he had arranged to find new mages for Jonas, Natale, and Manfred to study under. Falric, at that point, was ready to be out on his own. Scavell willed all his belongings, as well as his servants, to Aegwynn.
Less than a month after Scavell's death, Aegwynn returned from the small village of Jortas in time to receive a mystical summons from the council.
As soon as she arrived at Tirisfal Glade, the gnome—whose name, she had since learned, was Erbag—said, "What do you think you were doing in Jortas?"
"Saving them from Zmodlor." Aegwynn would have thought that her answer was self—evident.
"And did you think to learn more about Zmodlor before you destroyed him? Did you plan a strategy that would dispose of him in a manner that would contain him without the populace of Jortas learning the truth? Or did you just blindly charge in and flail about, hoping you might succeed?"
Fatigue and irritation combined to make Aegwynn a bit more forthright than she truly should have been with the council. "None of those, Erbag, as you well know. There was no time to plan such a strategy or learn more. Doing so would have endangered the children in the schoolhouse that Zmodlor had taken possession of. There were children in there. Was I to hang back and—"
"What you were to do," Erbag said, "was as you were told. Did Scavell not teach you in the ways of the Tirisfalen? We proceed with caution and with—"
Aegwynn interrupted the gnome right back. "What you do, Erbag, is react. And that's all you do, and it's why you've made so little headway against these foul creatures over the last several centuries. Zmodlor was able to take over an entire schoolhouse and was prepared to use the children of Jortas for a ritual that would have poisoned their souls. It was only purest chance that I detected the foul stench of demon—magic and was able to arrive in time. Your methods are reactive."
"Of course they are!" Erbag was waving his arms back and forth now. "This council was created to react to the threat of the—"
"And it hasn't worked. If we are truly to stand firm against these monsters who would invade and destroy our homes, we cannot allow them to encroach upon us so easily that they capture children before we even know they're here. We must be proactive in seeking them out and eliminating them, or we will be overrun."
Erbag was not convinced. "And when the people start to realize that their lives are in danger and they panic uncontrollably?"
Rather than reply to the question, Aegwynn looked at the other councillors. "Does Erbag speak for you all, or is he simply the loudest?"
The oldest of the elves on the council, Relfthra, favored Aegwynn with a small smile. "Both, in fact, Magna." The smile fell. "Erbag is correct in that you are too reckless. Zmodlor was a minor demon in the service of Sargeras; he might have been able to provide us with useful intelligence about his master."
"Yes, and he might have killed all those children before providing us with that intelligence."
"Perhaps. But that is a risk that sometimes we must take in order to fight this war."
Aegwynn was aghast. "We're talking about the lives of children. Besides which, this isn't a war, it's a holding action—at best. And it will get us all killed, child and adult alike, if we're not careful." Before any of the other mages could criticize her, she said, "August mages of the council, with all respect, I beg you—I am exhausted and wish to sleep. Is there anything else?"