Chapter 7

The mud sucked Lyra's boot in up to her ankle, and she wrinkled her nose. Khadgar had made it seem so enticing. 'Let's go to Scholazar and study the Titan ruins!' he had said. 'We can get away from the cold, and the snow, and the undead!' She huffed and withdrew her boot, emerging back from the undergrowth into camp with the driest firewood she could find. Lyra had wanted to just conjure some fire, but Khadgar insisted that their first day in the basin be 'authentic.'

Lyra didn't think authenticity was an issue. So far she had been bitten silly by mosquitoes, drenched in sweat from the baking heat of the now set sun, and had nearly pissed herself when a log in the river had suddenly moved and revealed itself to be a Crocolisk. Khadgar had just laughed, and told her not to go near the water without spearing the river a bit with arcane lances first.

Malygos was dead, and had been for the past six months. The Blue Dragonflight had folded almost immediately after, and by now more or less coalesced around their new leader, one Kalecgos; a Dragon who had been instrumental in the recent defeat of the legion at the Sunwell. A Dragon who had avoided the war entirely, but was still well respected, even by those who had followed Malygos to the end.

The war was going well in the dead city of Zul'drak, since the Scourge was completely overstretched supplying their forces by sea, and there had even been some slow progress into Icecrown itself. Lyra didn't really understand how the Lich King, who had presumably been trained in warfare as a prince, was so terrible at strategy. He had an army that essentially suffered from zero communication or morale problems and was self-replicating after every victory, and yet was still being pushed back, slowly but steadily. Maybe his brain had rotted?

The only thing that Lyra thought could be said for the jungle is the copious amount of wild fruit which grew in the trees, which tasted amazing. Khadgar was less impressed though, and had whined that if the Titans could do some much, then surely they could have made cake grow on trees.

Lyra's magical studies were progressing apace, she had finally got the hang on teleporting shortly after the end of the Nexus War. Which had come a great relief, knowing that she could high-tail it if things got hairy. It had helped stop the frequency of nightmares where she was trapped under Talagosa's claws. Now she was working on her frost magic, which had been somewhat neglected by her focus on the arcane.

Scholazar was the perfect place to practice, she thought, as she summoned a block of ice and held it up to her face. She sighed as she felt the icy coolness leech the heat from her skin, and shivered as it ran down her front and back. The cooling and warming charms on her clothes were good, Khadgar had enchanted them himself after all, but they had limits.

They had made camp by a river, and erected some wards to scare off any local animals, including, thankfully, mosquitoes. Lyra was currently enchanting her raven clasp with the same ward, and Khadgar was munching a chocolate cake with a slight grimace – conjured food always tasted slightly of cardboard. 'Still,' he had said, 'cake was cake.'

"So," said Khadgar once he was finished. "This is exciting isn't it! Just us, here, against the wild!"

"With a tent, sleeping rolls, infinite food and water, and the ability to leave whenever we want. I'd hardly call this 'us against the wild.'"

"Bah!" said Khadgar, trying to get the wood to light by rubbing a stick against it. "You have no soul apprentice. I've dreamed of a trip like this for years. Off into completely uncharted wilderness, looking for answers! No one to fight! Just exploring!"

Lyra rolled her eyes as she delicately etched a rune to the underside of the clasp with a sharp enchanter's needle. "That isn't how that works, you need tinder, and you roll the stick it in your hands against one point, not scrape it along the edge like a chisel."

"Since when do you know so much about this?" he asked.

"I read it in a book," she said, finishing the rune and giving it a blow to get rid of any dust.

"Which book?" he asked.

"Hemit Nesingwary's Green Hills of Stranglethorn," she said, beginning on the next rune.

"Since when do you read books like that? I haven't been able to get you to so much as glance at anything that isn't magical theory since you became my apprentice."

"I was a child, and there wasn't much else to read – it was the only book in the orphanage that wasn't some sappy romance; I have no idea why those were considered a good idea for kids to have."

"Hmm. You haven't talked about the orphanage before, what was it like?"

Lyra shrugged, wishing she hadn't brought it up. "It was a place, I was a kid, I survived."

"That isn't what I asked," he said after a moment.

"It was cold, and the other kids hated me."

"Oh? I find that hard to believe," said Khadgar. "Why would people dislike you? You are kind to a fault, and only occasionally make me want to strangle you."

"I'm a Half-Elf Khadgar; how have you not noticed this?" she said, pulling back her hair. "See, I've got pointy ears, but unfortunately they aren't long enough."

Khadgar frowned and didn't speak for a while. "Is it really that bad?"

"It was worse as a child, all the other kids tended to stick to cliques of their own race; which is pretty awful by the way. And it meant that I didn't fit in anywhere," said Lyra. "There are anti-racism programmes in school, but they focus mainly on building understanding and respect for different cultures and races. What culture do I have unique to being a Half-Elf? There are maybe twenty half-elves in the world, probably less."

"I'm sorry Lyra, I didn't know," said Khadgar. "Though now that I think about it, I have never seen you spend time with anyone your own age, or anyone older either. You really have no friends?"

"Nope," she said. She finished the last rune and put aside her needle, then focused delicately on threading arcane energy into the recesses one strand at a time.

"Well I think of you as one of my closest friends, almost like the daughter I never got to have; I'm sorry if I haven't made that clear before," he said, before turning back to his attempt to make fire. "Blast this, how is this supposed to work."

"I think you should just conjure it," smiled Lyra, feeling warm and fuzzy inside. No one had ever said she was like a daughter to them before, she found she quite liked it.

"But it won't be authentic!" said Khadgar, he said, whittling the stick in between his hands – he apparently didn't know what tinder was. "When we return to Dalaran, how about we attend some of those dinners I always put off? There will be other apprentices there, and you might find you have something in common with them."

"I don't think that will help Khadgar," said Lyra. "I've more or less accepted that my life will be a fairly lonely one. But thanks for trying."

"Surely you might one day want to find a partner, even have a family? Though I admit, being my apprentice wouldn't leave much time for that. Though as a Half-Elf you are going to live a very long time."

"I'm a Half-Elf."

"Yes. I grasped that detail."

"I mean I'm sterile, all half-breeds are. What man is interested in a woman who can't ever bear them children?"

"There is always adoption," he said. "And not all men want children."

"I have found that people are not interested in those they see as flawed or damaged, even if they might claim themselves to be above such things. How many women were interested in you before you reversed your ageing curse?"

"Well... not many I'll admit."

"And how many pursue you now that you are a... how did one put it a 'handsome silver fox?' I can think of over a dozen off the top of my head."

"What? Really? Who said that?" he said, abandoning his attempt to start the fire.

"Modera," she said, sinking the last thread of arcane power into the clasp's tiny runic array. It began to glow slightly, and she flipped it over, clasping her cloak back together. Great, that deal with the mosquitoes. She hoped.

"What? No. Surely you must have misheard, perhaps 'horrendous silly fool?' We are colleagues and friends-"

"'Oh Khadgar! You must find an apprentice, I do so worry about you, out there all alone!'" she said, throwing up her now free hands and mimicking Modera's higher voice. "And I have very good hearing, I didn't mishear."

"Huh," said Khadgar, thinking with a furrowed brow. "Who else?"

"Michelle, in the cafe. She always gives you an extra large slice of cake and makes eyes at you." replied Lyra immediately.

"She's just being friendly," said Khadgar waving a hand.

"Lady Proudmoore."

"Now you're being ridiculous," he spluttered.

"Am I? How many times did she touch your hand during the last council meeting?"

"Well... she was just trying to get my attention," he said slowly with a frown, seeming to not quite believe his own words.

Lyra just laughed.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" said Khadgar.

"I thought it was obvious," said Lyra.

"Who else?" he asked eagerly.

"Gosh, I don't know, almost every woman you meet who is over thirty, and a lot of those who are younger too. Women find you very attractive; light knows why."

"Hmm..." he began with a frown. "Well, what about you, any young men – or woman – caught your eye?"

"Haven't we just discussed this? Men don't want me because I'm sterile; and I've never met a woman interested in me either," she said.

"That isn't what I asked, and I'm not convinced, I think you're just a bit shy," said Khadgar.

"Why would I tell you anyway?" asked Lyra.

"Because I care about you?" he suggested.

"Ugh, that is blackmail," she said.

"Probably," he grinned. "Answer the question."

"Fine. I think Tzargo has kind eyes, a nice smile, a clever mind, and has never been mean to me. He even asked me how my day was going two weeks ago while we were waiting outside the council chambers for you lot to finish."

"Modera's apprentice? The troll boy?" Khadgar asked with wide eyes.

"Man. He's eighteen," said Lyra. "And I wouldn't have said anything if I knew you were going to judge me for who I find attractive."

"I'm just surprised is all, trolls aren't usually regarded as attractive by Humans or Elves," said Khadgar quickly. "And how would you kiss him? He has giant tusks."

"Does that matter?"

"I suppose not."

"I couldn't have a child with anyone, so why should species matter in a partner?" said Lyra. "He's a person, and I like him. That would be enough for me."

Khadgar went back to his attempts to make fire, and it was almost ten minutes before he spoke again. "Sometimes, I feel I am seeing what people will be like in the future when I look at you."

"What? Everyone will be socially awkward, barren, and spend all their time reading?" she asked with a laugh. "I don't think that society will last very long."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "People who have completely rejected bigotry and the desire to dominate others – it was you who made me see the invasion of Zul'drak for what it was, who have compassion even for their worst enemies, and do not view the world through the lens of borders, or kingdoms, or races, but instead respect and care for all others based on nothing more than a common recognition of person-hood."

"I think you have an inflated view of me. I can be incredibly petty, I hold grudges, I hate the Argent Crusade; I even deliberately set your washing on fire when you annoyed me a month ago."

"But you don't deny that is how you view the world?" he asked. "And so that is what happened to those underpants..."

"I think that it's more a symptom of being a Half-Elf; since I'm not like anyone, I either have to reject everyone as different, or embrace them all."

Khadgar went back to his attempts at fire making, he didn't have any success. Lyra eventually grew bored of watching him bang bits of wood together and threw a fireball at the unlit campfire. Khadgar yelped and scrambled backwards from the now blazing wood.

"Apprentice! I almost had it!"

"Sure you did Khadgar; sure you did."