8
Lessons
“To understand the Order,” said Medivh, “you must understand demons. You must also understand magic.” He lowered himself comfortably on one of the still-undamaged chairs. The chair also had one of the few unripped pillows upon it.
“Lord Medivh…Magus,” said Khadgar. “If there is a demon abroad in Stormwind, we should concentrate on that, and not on history lessons that could wait until later.”
Medivh looked down at his chest, and Khadgar feared that he risked another outburst from the elder mage. But the master mage merely shook his head, and smiled as he said, “Your concerns would be valid if the demon in question was a threat to those around it. Take my word for it, it is not. The demon, even were it one of the more powerful officers within the Burning Legion, would have expended almost all its personal power in dealing with the two powerful mages that summoned it. It is of little matter, at least for the moment. What is important, is that you understand what the Order is, what I am, and why others are so deeply interested in it.”
“But Magus…” started Khadgar.
“And the sooner I finish the sooner I will know that I can trust you with the information, and the sooner I will go out to deal with this petty demon, so if you truly want me to go you should let me finish, eh?” Medivh gave the younger mage a hard, knowing smile.
Khadgar opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. He slouched down against the wide ledge by the open window. Despite the efforts of the servants to remove the bodies from the tower, the stench of their death, a corrosive pallor, was still heavy in the air.
“So. What is magic?” asked Medivh, in the manner of a schoolmage.
“An ambient field of energy that pervades the world,” said Khadgar, almost without thinking. It was catechism, a simple answer for a simple question. “It is stronger in some locations than others, but it is ever-present.”
“Yes it is,” said the older mage, “at least now. But imagine a time when it was not.”
“Magic is universal,” said Khadgar, knowing as soon as he said it that it was soon to prove not to be. “Like air or water.”
“Yes, like water,” said Medivh. “Now imagine a time at the very start of things, when all the water in the world was in one location. All the rain and rivers and seas and streams, all the showers and creeks and tears, all in one location, in one well.”
Khadgar nodded, slowly.
“Now, instead of water, it is magic we’re talking about,” said Khadgar. “A well of magic, the source, an opening into other dimensions, a shimmering doorway into the lands beyond the Great Dark, beyond the walls of the world. The first peoples to cast spells encamped around the well and distilled its raw power into magic. They were called the Kaldorei then. What they are called now, I cannot say.” Medivh looked at Khadgar, but the younger mage kept his silence now.
Medivh resumed. “The Kaldorei grew powerful from their use of magic, but they did not understand its nature. They did not understand that there were other, powerful forces in the Great Dark Beyond, moving in the space between worlds, that hungered after magic and were very interested in any who tamed it and refined it to their own ends. These malign forces were abomination and juggernauts and nightmares from hundreds of worlds, but we call them simply demons. They sought to invade any world where magic was mastered and grown, and destroy it, keeping the energies for themselves alone. And the greatest of them, the master of the Burning Legion, was a demon named Sargeras.”
Khadgar thought of the vision with Aegwynn and suppressed a shudder.
If Medivh noticed the young mage’s reaction he did not say anything. “The Lord of the Burning Legion was both powerful and subtle, and worked to corrupt the early magic-users, the Kaldorei. He succeeded, for a dark shadow fell upon their hearts, and they enslaved other races, the nascent humans as well as others, in order to build their empire.”
Medivh sighed, “Now in this time of the enslaving Kaldorei, there were those with greater vision than their brethren, who were willing both to speak out against the Kaldorei and to pay the price for their vision. These brave individuals, both Kaldorei and other races as well, saw the hearts of the ruling Kaldorei grow cold and dark, and the demonic power grow.”
“So it came to pass that the Kaldorei were corrupted by Sargeras such that they nearly damned this world at its birth. The Kaldorei ignored those who spoke out against them, and opened the way for the most powerful of demons, Sargeras and his lot, to invade. Only by the heroic actions of a few was the shimmering doorway through the Great Dark shut, exiling Sargeras and his followers. But the victory was at great cost. The Well of Eternity exploded when the doorway was shut down, and the resulting explosion ripped the heart out of this world, destroying the Kaldorei lands and the very continent it rested upon. Those that shut the door were never seen again by living eyes.”
“Kalimdor!” said Khadgar, interrupting despite himself.
Medivh looked at him, and Khadgar continued, “Its an old legend in Lordaeron! Once there was an evil race who meddled foolishly with great power. As punishment for their sins, their lands were broken and set beneath the waves. It was called the Sundering of the World. Their lands were called Kalimdor.”
“Kalimdor,” repeated Medivh. “Though you have the child’s version of the tale, the bit we tell would-be mages to stress the dangers of what they are playing with. The Kaldorei were foolish, and destroyed themselves and nearly our world. And when the Well of Eternity exploded, the magical energies within scattered to the four corners of the earth, in an eternal rain of magic. And that’s why magic is universal—it’s the power of the well’s death.”
“But Magus,” said Khadgar, “that was thousands of years ago.”
“Ten thousand years,” said Medivh, “give or take a score.”
“How is it that the legend comes down to us? Dalaran itself has histories only going back twenty centuries, and the earliest of those are wrapped in legends.”
Medivh nodded and took up the story again. “Many were lost in the sinking of Kalimdor, but some survived, and took their knowledge with them. Some of these surviving Kaldorei would found the Order of Tirisfal. Whether Tirisfal was a person, or a place, or a thing, or a concept, even I cannot say. They took the knowledge, of what had happened, and swore to keep it from ever happening again, and that is the bedrock of the Order.
“Now, the race of humans survived those dark days as well, and thrived, and soon, with magical energy worked into the fabric of the world itself, they too were scratching at the doors of reality, beginning to summon creatures from the Great Dark, prying at the shut gates of Sargeras’s prison. That was when those Kaldorei who had survived and changed themselves came forward with the story of how their ancestors had almost destroyed the world.
“The first human mages considered what the surviving Kaldorei had said, and realized that even were they to lay down their wands and grimoires and ciphers, that others would seek, innocently or less so, ways to allow the demons access once more to our green lands. And so they continued the Order, now as a secret society among the most powerful of their mages. This Order of Tirisfal would choose one of its number, who would serve as the Guardian of the Tirisfalen. This guardian would be given the greatest of powers, and would be the gatekeeper of reality. But now the gate was not a single great well of power, but rather an infinite rain that continues to fall even today. It is nothing less than the heaviest responsibility in the world.”
Medivh fell silent, and his eyes lost their focus briefly, as if he were suddenly swept into the past himself. Then he shook his head, returning to himself, but still did not speak.