Chapter Text
Khadgar was late. Khadgar was never late when it came to an appointment. Oh if he just said ‘I’ll be there’, when was always a mystery, but if he said he’d be somewhere by a certain day or time, he was always there, unless he sent a message to the contrary.
Medivh was worried. There was no message. But here it was, midweek, tea time, and there was a severe lack of Archmage Khadgar.
He frowned, pacing a little along the small study where they typically took their tea and talked. With the current conflicts, he started to worry about whether or not Khadgar would wind up caught in crossfire. Bad enough that the Horde and the Alliance were once again at each other’s throats instead of actually paying attention to the greater threats at hand… but he supposed eventually when things really started going to hell in a handbasket – sans the handbasket – they would come to their senses.
Until then, he was still stuck here, wondering where his wayward apprentice had got to.
Khadgar had taken to acting as a neutral information source, going to Horde and Alliance leaders both, and had declared that if he told one, he would tell the other – and there would be no exceptions. He was absolutely neutral, refusing to take up arms against either side, and absolutely refusing to deny information to one or the other. Any intelligence he knew, he would send to both – and he would only do so on his own.
Medivh worried that it would make him a prime target for capture and possible torture, but Khadgar would hear nothing of the kind. He had worked with both sides and done so openly in the past.
But this was not the past.
The clock on the mantel chimed. Medivh looked up at it and hissed. Khadgar was now two hours late, and had not sent any kind of message on ahead to let Medivh know he’d be late getting back.
No. No, something had definitely happened.
Without a second thought, Medivh was heading for the nearest window – which just so happened to be the balcony of the study. He took his raven form, launched off the balustrade and caught a thermal that lifted him into the sky.
His apprentice’s last known destination was Stormwind. He would begin his search there.
The familiar trees of Elwynn in Spring flowed under him as he flew, though he noticed that some of the forest had been ravaged by war. He had hoped to never have to see such a thing again as long as he lived. So much for hopes.
He banked sharply and slowed his flight at the gates to Stormwind, closed now instead of open. With a soft warbled sigh, he landed atop the staff of Khadgar’s statue, looking around. Patrols had been increased along the streets, and there seemed to be a permanent force stationed at the gates themselves, considering that they had bivouacked to one side of the gate by the bridge.
He slid off the staff and flew low, watching the hurried steps of citizen and soldier alike as order was kept – almost martially, but just shy of actual martial law. He didn’t like the looks of that. Had things escalated so far?
He landed in the courtyard of the Keep, which was still, thankfully, as open as it had always been. He returned to his human form and headed for the throne room, where he was, predictably, stopped and questioned. He gave his name, and that he wished to see the High King.
There was a moment’s hesitation – nervous hesitation perhaps? – before the guard escorted him to King Anduin Wrynn himself.
Anduin looked far less like a child now than ever – the worry lines across his face mirrored that of his grandfather, and Medivh knew those lines quite well, and knew that in his grandfather’s case, had caused no few of them.
He waited patiently for Anduin to finish marking a map on the table spread before him, and then look up. His eyes widened a little with surprise.
“Magus Medivh – this is unexpected!” The king stepped around the table – ignoring a growl from Greymane, who had been at the young king’s side – and offered his hand. Medivh took it, and nodded to the king in a cursory bow.
“Indeed, but it was urgent that I come.”
“Do you have information for us?” Anduin asked, eagerly.
Medivh shook his head. “I come seeking information actually, Majesty,” Medivh replied in a low voice, his eyes on Greymane. “Has Khadgar been here?”
Greymane dropped his eyes and busied himself with another matter on the map with one of the others at the table. Medivh narrowed his eyes.
Anduin however, shook his head, slowly. “No – we were told to expect him, and that he would have some reports we’d need to know about.” He drew Medivh further aside. “Information that by his ‘code’ came from the Horde.”
Medivh nodded. “He has been successful so far in acting as your liaison to the other side, and believe me, you are not the only one who has been grateful. As your people war, the fact that information still flows is a miracle.”
Anduin sighed. “Tell me about it. Though, it is hard sometimes.” The young king glanced back at Greymane himself. Medivh pursed his lips.
“So Khadgar has not been here?” Anduin shook his head. “Damn. He was due back two hours and then some ago, and he had sent no message stating he would be late.”
“No – you don’t think…” Anduin’s eyes went round, and for a moment, just a moment, Medivh was struck with just how young he was.
“Something’s happened. I fear he got caught in crossfire. His first destination was here, however. If he is not here, it means that he never reached so far as this. I will be going to the others, and seeing if he deviated, however. He has been known to lose track of time, but usually sends a message to that effect on ahead to keep me appraised of where he is. Both of us know that in our unique positions…” Medivh didn’t have to explain the danger that put both magi in.
Anduin nodded. “No, he’s not been here. If I hear anything, I will send a message to you in the usual way,” he offered. “And when you do, I would appreciate an update. He and I may not be close, but I still consider him an uncle of mine for who he was to Lothar, my grandfather and my father, just as I do you.”
Medivh smiled. “Good lad. I will keep you informed.” He genially patted Anduin’s arm, then with the abrupt mercurial shifts in mood he was still known for, turned and headed back to the courtyard.
Anduin watched him go, frowning a little with worry.
Medivh’s next destination was Silvermoon City. He knew that going to the Banshee Queen directly was never a good idea – and the Undercity was still rather an affront to his nose. No, better to go to her right hand – or left, whichever Lor’themar Theron was that week.
He was a bit less of a welcome sight in Silvermoon, however. Though the elves were cordial to him, he was looked at with suspicious gazes that were open and contemptuous as he and his escort made their way to the Sunfury Spire. Lor’themar was a far less formal Regent Lord, and waved the magus into his study.
“What brings you here, Magus?” he asked, offering Medivh a crystal goblet of ruby wine.
“I’m looking for Khadgar, actually.”
“Ah! We have been watching for him – I was given to understand he brings word from… the other side.” Lor’themar sipped from his own glass. “He’s never been late.”
“And that’s what concerns me. You say he hasn’t reached here – but he also had not reached Stormwind.” Lor’themar put his glass down on his desk, his eye widening. “Exactly.”
“Wait – so are you saying that something’s happened to him?” the Regent Lord said softly.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Medivh sipped at his wine, letting the light flavor cool his throat. “He is well trusted and liked by both sides, so I cannot figure out what might have happened – other than in his flight, he may have been caught in a crossfire somewhere.”
Theron sighed, picking up his glass again and draining it before setting it back down. “Right now all of the conflict is elsewhere. There is nothing but a few skirmishes going on in the entirety of the Eastern Kingdoms. Where would he have been caught in a crossfire? And without showing himself?”
“If he was in his raven form at the time, and didn’t manage to dodge an arrow…” Medivh shrugged, sipping his wine again.
“Still, that… doesn’t seem likely.”
Medivh relaxed a little. “So you see further than those of Stormwind, at least.”
Lor’themar shrugged. “I have no qualms with the Archmage. Nor with you. You have chosen to remain neutral through this conflict, and I respect that. I feel that most of, if not all of the leaders, regardless of how we feel towards the others, or of the other side, respect that.” He frowned. “I can think of no reason for any of our forces to attack Archmage Khadgar, whether he be in human form or in his raven form.”
Medivh drained his glass and set it beside Lor’themar’s. “And there lies the problem. It may have been an accident, or there may have been malicious intent.”
Lor’themar sighed, shaking his head. “I’m afraid I know nothing. No one I know knows anything – or at least has said nothing if they do. If you do hear anything, keep us posted, please. If I hear anything at all, I will send word at once.”
Medivh nodded. “That’s all I can ask. Thank you for your time, Regent Lord.” He nodded a slight bow, which Lor’themar returned, and walked him back out. “Be safe, Magus,” he said simply as man became raven. He offered his arm, and after a moment, Medivh hopped up onto the wrist offered him.
Lor’themar launched Medivh into the air. “Safe flight, my friend,” he said quietly as the raven banked to the west and south.
The same answers came, regardless of where he went. No, Khadgar had not arrived, though he was expected. No, no one knew where he was or what may have happened. There was no finger-pointing from anyone, which was something at least.
With a sigh at the setting sun, Medivh settled himself on the mast of a ship in Stormwind Harbor – one bound for Kalimdor and the slowly rebuilding Theramore.
He was met with the same answers from Baine Bloodhoof, Varok Saurfang, Tyrande, and even Gallywix.
Gliding on a thermal over Desolace, an idea struck him. Perhaps Khadgar had gone down to the hub of all the current activity – and been caught in a conflict there. He banked, picked up another thermal and headed straight for Silithus.
Khadgar had found himself in uncomfortable places in the past, but this had to take the strudel. His feet throbbed. His hands were numb. His back was a solid lance of agony. His shoulders screamed in protest. His head didn’t bear thinking about.
He never figured he would wind up here of all places. Not for the purpose he was here for either. He looked up at the sky, and sighed. He couldn’t call for help. Not vocally. Not mentally. Not magically.
No, no, his captors had taken pains to be certain that he would remain where he was, how he was, until his purpose was complete.
He was long past fear. He was long past despair. He was well beyond even the constant hope that was his companion for years on end. His eyes, dull with his lack of emotion, closed, and he didn’t even wince at the gritty feel of them.
He shifted very slightly, trying to relieve an itch along his back where blood had dried hours ago, and watched through his eyelids as the sun rose, turning the cool darkness into bright reds.
At least, if what he heard was correct, it wouldn’t be long now. He wished he had a way to tell Medivh he was sorry for being so late in getting home.
Medivh cawed in anger as the titanic blade came into view on the horizon in the early morning sunlight. The metal of it glinted dully; a mock to anyone who looked at its constantly shifting living … bits. Medivh looked away, choosing to look down at the ground instead.
The view wasn’t much better. He banked, heading for the Alliance encampment. He dodged arrows until someone realized that he wasn’t a game bird – or hostile. When he landed, he had… words… with the commander of the post before demanding to know if anyone had seen his apprentice.
There were murmurs of concern – and finally he thought he might get answers. Yes, yes, they had seen him, and he had gone toward the Horde camp.
However, the Horde camp proved less useful – they had seen him head toward the Alliance camp.
He sighed.
Well, at least he knew Khadgar had been here. Why he had been here, when his destination was Stormwind, he could not fathom.
He launched himself back into the air and circled the gigantic blade driven into Azeroth’s core, eyeing it with utter loathing. With a scream of defiance at it, he turned north, intent on continuing his search.
As he banked, something caught his eye. There was something – a small something – dangling from one side of the blade guard. He shifted his weight, wings pumping to get him more height as he moved automatically to assuage his curiosity.
The scream of defiance turned to a screech of rage. His wings aching as he forced more from them, he spread his tail to catch any updraft he could as he forced his climb.
The thing dangling was a man. Or rather what was left of one.
He overshot the figure, then eased himself down on the rail Khadgar’s wrists were bound to, and the hum of power beneath his talons made him realize it was Atiesh. He screamed again, just barely able to keep himself from gouging the wood as his feet closed and flexed in agitation. Instead, he made a series of clicking noises from the back of his throat, shook himself and then finally opened his mouth to speak – but was beaten to it.
“So,” Khadgar rasped, his voice barely over a whisper. “The first comes to claim me. Fitting that it should be a corvid. So be it.” His head drooped and he went silent – or unconscious.
Medivh screamed again, unable to articulate speech through his anger. He launched off the staff, setting it – and Khadgar – swaying. He circled twice, looking at how Khadgar was suspended. Chains from the hilt of the sword held Atiesh aloft, bindings of barbed wire held Khadgar’s wrists to the staff, spread so his shoulders would be stretched and useless. The rest of him was left free, other than more barbed wire binding his bare feet together, and a chain from there led to a heavy metal ball – and that ball was covered in blood, and dripped slowly.
A second circle showed Medivh that Khadgar’s robes were saturated – the darkness suggested blood, but in the heat, it could have been both blood and sweat. His face was hardly recognizable. His head carried a gash from one ear up to the top of his skull, and another along the back.
If scavengers drawn by the scent of blood didn’t tear him apart, he would be drawn and quartered faster than any rack would.
Forcing himself back under control, Medivh shot toward the ground – and the Alliance encampment. He couldn’t free Khadgar as a raven, and he couldn’t stay aloft as a human without aid.
When he landed, he told the commander what he had seen, and was sent back with a gryphon – one that seemed to recognize Medivh, and treated him with affection. Within heartbeats of tugging her saddle tight, he realized it was Khadgar’s. So. She had fled to a safe haven when… whatever had happened – or she didn’t know he was in danger.
Sky Dancer would sooner fling herself into the sea than let her kitten come to harm. Well, that would be an advantage.
Medivh urged her up, and she balked at getting near the blade. He leaned forward so he could speak, softly, against one ear tuft. “Your papa’s up there. He’s in trouble. He’s hurt. We have to get him down.”
The gryphon made a squawk of shock, whipped her head around to look at her rider and made a sound of inquiry. Medivh repeated his words. “Khadgar’s in danger, girl. Come on. We have to get up there.” He had no further trouble with her.
Once they reached Khadgar, however, she shrieked in rage, though stayed in control long enough to hover as Medivh freed the ball from Khadgar’s feet, then freed Atiesh. He could worry about the rest later.
Khadgar was unusually cooperative. Limp, even, as Medivh hauled him across the gryphon’s back. As Sky Dancer streaked towards the ground, Medivh checked for a pulse, and found one. A very weak one.
Before they reached the ground, Khadgar’s eyes snapped open. “What?”
“Shh, Khadgar, you’re in friendly hands. Sky Dancer and I have you. What happened? Who did this to you?”
“Trap,” Khadgar rasped, trying to lift his head. “It’s a trap! Drop me! Get away from me!”