“In a moment,” said Medivh. “I want to look about here for a moment. Will you grant me and my apprentice a moment or ten alone?”
Lothar hesitated for a moment, then said, “Of course. I will be right outside.” As he said the last he looked at Khadgar sharply, then left.
The door’s latch clicked shut and there was silence in the room. Medivh moved from table to table, pawing through the shredded tomes and torn papers. He held up a piece of correspondence with a purple seal, and shook his head. Slowly, he crumbled the piece of paper in his hand.
“In civilized countries,” he said, his voice slightly strained, “apprentices don’t disagree with their masters. At least in public.” He turned toward Khadgar and the youth saw the older man’s face was a mass of storm clouds.
“I am sorry,” said Khadgar. “You said I should ask questions, and the position of the bodies did not seem right at the time, but now that you mention how the bodies were burned…”
Medivh held up a hand and Khadgar silenced himself. He paused a moment, then let out a slow exhalation. “Enough. You did the right thing, no more or less than asked by me. And if you hadn’t spoken up, I wouldn’t have realized the demon probably skittered down the tower itself, and wasted more time searching the castle complex. But, you asked questions because you don’t know much about demons, and that is ignorance. And ignorance I will not tolerate.”
The elder Magus looked at Khadgar, but there was a smile at the corner of his lips. Khadgar, sure that the storm had passed, lowered himself onto a stool. Despite himself, he still said, “Lothar…”
“Will wait,” said Medivh, nodding. “He waits well, that Anduin Lothar. Now, what did you learn of demons in your time at the Violet Citadel?”
“I’ve heard the legends,” said Khadgar. “In the First Days, there were demons in the land, and great heroes arose to drive them out.” He thought of the image of Medivh’s mother blasting the demons to bits, and facing down their Lord, but said nothing. No need to make Medivh angry again now that he’d calmed down.
“That’s the basics,” said Medivh. “What we tell the hoi polloi. What do you know in addition?”
Khadgar took a deep breath. “The official teachings in the Violet Citadel, in Kirin Tor, is that demonology is to be eschewed, avoided, and abjured. Any attempt to summon demons are to be found out and stopped at once, and those involved are to be expelled. Or worse. There were stories, among the young students, when I was growing up.”
“Stories grounded in fact,” said Medivh. “But you’re a curious lad, you know more, I assume?”
Khadgar tilted his head in thought, choosing words carefully. “Korrigan, our academic librarian, had an extensive collection of…material at his disposal.”
“And needed someone to help organize it,” said Medivh dryly. Khadgar must have jumped, because Medivh added, “That was a guess, only, Young Trust.”
“The material is mostly folk legends and the reports of the local authorities involving demon worshipers. Most of it was along the lines of individuals committing foul acts in the name of some old demon from the legends or another. Nothing about the actions of truly summoning a demon. No spells, no arcane writings.” Khadgar motioned toward the protective circle. “No ceremonies.”
“Of course,” said Medivh. “Even Korrigan would not inflict that on a student. If he has such things, he would keep them separate.”
“From that, the general belief is that when the demons were defeated, they were driven out of this world entirely. They were pushed out of the world of light and living, and into their own domain.”
“The Great Dark Beyond,” said Medivh, intoning the phrase like a prayer.
“They are still out there, or so the legend goes,” said Khadgar, “and they want to come back in. Some say they come to the weak-willed in their sleep and urge them to find old spells and make sacrifices. Sometimes it is to open the way for them to come back fully. Others say they want worshipers and sacrifices to make this world like it once was, bloody and violent, and only then would they return.”
Medivh was quiet for a moment, stroking his beard, then said, “Anything else?”
“There’s more. Details and individual stories. I’ve seen carvings of demons, pictures, diagrams.” Again Khadgar felt a rising need to tell Medivh about the vision, about the demon army. Instead he said, “And there is that old epic poem, the one about Aegwynn, fighting a horde of demons in a far-off land.”
The mention of that brought a gentle, knowing smile to Medivh’s face, “Ah yes, “The Song of Aegwynn.” You’ll find that poem in a lot of powerful mages’ quarters, you know.”
“My teacher, Lord Guzbah was interested in it,” said Khadgar.
“Is he, now?” said Medivh, smiling. “With all due respect, I don’t know if Guzbah is quite ready for that poem. At least not in its true form.” He peaked his eyebrows. “What you have is basically true. A lot of people couch it in the form of legends and fairy stories, but I think you know as well as I do that demons are real, and are out there, and yes, form a threat to those of us who walk this sunlit world, as well as other worlds. I think, now, I definitely think, that your red-sunned world was another place, a different world, on the far side of the Great Dark Beyond. The Beyond is a prison for these demons, a place without light or succor, and they are very, very jealous and very, very anxious to get back in.”
Khadgar nodded, and Medivh continued, “But your assumption that their victims are weak-willed is in error, though again an error that is well-intended. There are more than enough venal farmhands who invoke a demonic force for revenge against a former lover, or stupid merchants who burn an invoice from a debtor with a black candle, badly mangling the ancient name of some once-great demonic power. But just as often there are those who walk willingly to the abyss, who feel themselves safe and sure and knowledgeable that they are beyond any blandishment or threat, that they are powerful enough to harness the demonic energies that surge beyond the walls of the world. They are in many ways even more dangerous than the common rabble, for as you know, a near-failure in spellcasting is more deadly than a complete failure.”
Khadgar could only nod, and wondered if Medivh had the power of the mind, “But these were powerful mages—Huglar and Hugarin, I mean.”
“The most powerful in Azeroth,” said Medivh. “The wisest and finest wizards, magical advisors to King Llane himself. Safe, sage, and sinecured!”
“Surely they would know better?” asked Khadgar.
“You would think so,” said Medivh. “Yet, here we stand in the wreckage of their chambers, and their demon-burned bodies lay in the wine cellar.”
“Why would they do it, then?” Khadgar knitted his brows, trying not to offend. “If they knew so much, why did they try to summon a demon?”
“Many reasons,” said Medivh with a sigh. “Hubris, that false pride that goes before the fall. Overconfidence, both in each individually and doubled it for working in tandem. And fear, I suppose, most of all.”
“Fear?” Khadgar looked at Medivh quizzically.
“Fear of the unknown,” said Medivh. “Fear of the known. Fear of things more powerful than they.”
Khadgar shook his head. “What could be more powerful than two of the most advanced and learned wizards in Azeroth?”
“Ah,” said Medivh, and a small smile blossomed beneath his beard. “That would be me. They killed themselves summoning a demon, playing with forces best left alone, because they feared me.”
“You?” said Khadgar, the surprise in his voice greater than he had intended. For a moment he feared offending the older mage once more.
But Medivh just took a deep breath and blew the air out slowly. Then he said, “Me. They were fools, but I blame myself as well. Come, lad, Lothar can wait. It’s time I told you the story of the Guardians and of the Order of Tirisfal, which is all that stands between us and the Darkness.”