"What does The Light want in return?"
The silver haired woman gasped and straightened slightly. Her eyes cast nervously around the class to the rest of her students, then back to the dark haired boy with his hand raised.
"Why would you ask such a question Edwynn?"
The young man shrugged his shoulders. "Well, you were talking about history. About how the guardian Medivh was corrupted by demons, and how he traded his soul for powerful magics. With that magic, he opened the dark portal, and the orcish horde invaded out world. And last week Brother Sammuel told us about the orc's shamanistic magic. He said they can speak to the wind and water spirits, and they barter favors with the spirits in exchange for power over the elements. And my cousin said the trolls can use the power of mojo, but for their magic to work they have to cut you open and eat your heart so they can…
"Edwynn!" Sister Wecenda burst. She glanced at the noble-born girls in the classroom's front row before clearing her throat. "You are in elevated company Edwynn, where are your manners."
"I'm sorry sister. It's just that… if the demon magic, the shaman magic, and the troll magic all require you to give it something in order of it to work, I was wondering… what do the priests here at Northshire Abbey have to give up for the magic of the Holy Light to work?
The whole class, consisting of nearly twenty students ages 7 to 16, turned to hear sister Wecenda's answer. For her part, the sister stammered a bit before replying. "It simply doesn't work like that! Firstly, this is a history class, not some sort of mystical philosophy! And secondly, there are no orcs or trolls in Northshire. Or in Goldshire, or Westfall, or Redridge, or the entire length and breath of the Kingdom of Stormwind. I can't imagine why a young man such as yourself would be interested in such fowl things. And finally, the Holy Light is not like other magics. The Light allows us to mend the wounded, cure the poisoned, and even recall the deceased if circumstances are fortunate enough.
Edwynn's eyes quickly surveyed the classroom at Northshire Abbey. In the front row, the three noble-born girls were casting looks his way and whispering among themselves. Behind them, the youngest children had already lost interest in what was being said now that troll cannibalism was no longer being discussed. Closer to the back of the room, young acolytes and apprentices, students of the Light, seemed genuinely interested. Finally, in the very rear of the room were the peasent children. Sons of the miners, lumberjacks, and farmers here to get the most basics of an education. These students were enjoying Edwynn's brash question, as any small act of rebellion against their 'tyrannical' history teacher was so often encouraged. Seeing their hidden smiles, Edwynn decided to press his luck.
"You really haven't answered my question sister Wecenda"
"Edwynn DeTemms how dare you! Disrespect of this caliber will not be tolerated." Sister Wecenda rose from her desk and stormed down the aisle towards the bench where he sat, and Edwynn knew immediately that he had overstepped his bounds. Grabbing his ear, the instructor dragged Edwynn to his feet and lead him from the room.
"Truly Edwynn, you should know better" Sister Wecenda's voice was a loud whisper as she propelled her student across the library of Northshire Abbey towards the main hall. The librarian watched silently as Wecenda brought her disobedient young pupil to him.
"This boy needs some disapline Brother Paxton. Perhaps you can find some use for him? Something to instill in him a respect for authority?
"An afternoon spent shelving books is hardly a worthy punishment sister." Paxton said. Although in truth Edwynn could think of nothing more dreadful then wasting his day among the musty old tomes. "Perhaps Jorik in the stables has something a bit more taxing for him."
"Oh no, please not that…" Edwynn moaned.
"Oh yes." Sister Wecenda grabbed his ear and propelled him out the door to the main hall, and from there out the main doors.
Northshire Abbey was a huge stone building nestled in a quiet valley at the northern edge of Elwynn Forest. 30 years ago the orcish horde had swarmed into the forest from the east and sieged the city of Stormwind. The orcs invaded the valley and burned the original abbey to the ground. The men and women had been driven out, and forced to seek refuge in the neighboring kingdoms to the north. Years later, they returned to drive the orcs back and reclaim their homeland. The abbey was rebuilt, larger and stronger than before. It was now a center of learning not only for new priests and paladins, but for the displaced wizardfolk of Dalaran, whose own kingdom was devastated in another, more recent war.
Sister Wecenda released the boy's ear, but continued to march him north around the building to the stables in the back. Within, Jorik Kerridan stood silently in the shadows as the two approached.
"Mr. Kerridan, if I could trouble you for a moment…"
"This kid giving you trouble sister?" Jorik looked Edwynn up and down the way a gambler would look at a horse before a race. "The DeTemms boy? Why am I not surprised."
"Oh, do you know him sir?" The sister asked.
"We've had our dealings." The stable master answered. "Let me guess, causing a ruckus in class? Getting the other students worked up?"
"As a matter of fact yes, Mr. Kerridan. He was asking the most blasphemous of questions. I was hoping you could…"
"Put the boy to work?" Jorik finished for her. He produced a pitchfork seemingly from nowhere and thrust it's handle towards Edwynn. "Stalls need cleaning boy. Start at the back and work your way forward."
"Sister Wecenda smiled. "Thank you Mr. Kerridan. I.."
"Please sister, call me Jorik." The stable master took her hand and gently began walking her back toward the abbey's main doors. He moved with the grace of a courtroom nobleman, and his gaze was fixed on Wecenda's blue eyes. "Asking questions in a classroom. Children today simply have no respect. Lets be honest sister, your skills are wasted on a boy like that. If you could see that the kid is sent to me for the later part of each of your lessons, I shall make a proper man of him."
The two passed out of earshot. Edwynn watched closely as the y exchanged words for several moments. Jorik continued to hold both her had and her gaze. By the end of their converstation, Edwynn's elderly schoolmistress was blushing like a schoolmaid who'd been asked to her first harvest dance. Sister Wecenda departed, and Jorik returned to the stables.
"So now I'm to receive half-lessons, and spend the rest of my afternoons with you?"
"You can thank me later kid."
"How do you do it Jorik?" Edwynn smiled.
"What?" Jorik's eyes smiled back, but his face was firm.
"Get people to give you what you want without them knowing?"
"It comes from watching people kid. You would know that if you had been paying attention to all the things I've been telling you for the last couple of months. Now get to work, the stalls aren't going to clean themselves. Sooner you get done, the sooner we can move on to what you're really here for.
Edwynn sighed and moved to the farthest stall. He took the pitchfork to the hay with a vengeance. Jorik watched in silence, restricting himself to moving any of the horses that were ahead of Edwynn. After nearly an hour, Edwynn finished, went to the nearby stream to scrub the filth off, and returned and re-donned his shirt.
"So, what are you going to teach me today Jorik? More stealth training? You know, I was able to follow Milly Osworth around her vineyard for almost twenty minutes yesterday before she noticed me."
"Child's play." Jorik muttered. Moving to the back of one of his stalls, he pulled a small box from beneath the hay and began removing it's contents. With several deft movements of his hands, Jorik rapidly assembled a wooden target dummy. Gaudily painted as a barmaid, it rocked lazily left and right in the breeze.
"Aww, come on Jorik, not the knives again?"
"What's the matter? You don't like knives?" Jorik reached back within the box and pulled forth a dozen small throwing knives.
"I like them just fine. I'm just no good with them."
"And how do you expect to get good with them boy?" Jorik handed the knives to Edwynn. "You think all the great swordsmen of Azeroth were born great? Bollocks! They started out lousy, just like you, and they practiced. They kept doing it over and over and over again, until they got good at it. Same is true with every miner, fisherman, tailor, heck even the cooks. Only time and practice can increase your skill, now get started."
Edwynn sighed and began to throw. Only two of his first dozen even struck the target. He retrieved them an threw again. And again. And again. The gaudy barmaid's wooden form taunting him with her unending smile. The early spring breezes kept pushing the thin wooden form so the metal spring at her waist was in constant motion. After a quarter of an hour Edwynn was making progress, in that six of every twelve shots were landing.
"Hey Jorik, what did you do before you came here?" Edwynn asked at one point.
"What makes you think I wasn't always here?" Jorik replied. Edwynn ground his teeth. Jorik had a nasty habit of always answering a question with another question.
"Oh, come on! You don't expect me to believe you were always a stable master here at the abbey do you? I mean, you know so much about the world, and about other kingdoms. I remember you said you got that scar on your arm from a knife fight in Stromgrade.
Jorik just shook his head. "You kids today. You always expect to be able to just walk up to someone and have them hand you the answer. You need to learn how to use your head. Think kid. How old do you think I am?
"I don't know… 35, maybe 40 winters."
"Close enough kid. So what does that tell you?"
"Well, you would have been too young to fight in the war against the orcs."
"The FIRST war against them kid. And you're right, I was just a child at the time. I was born here in Northshire, so what do you think happened to me?"
"Well, if you were just a kid, they would have evacuated you.. North! Where did they send you? To Lordaron?"
"Actually my family was sent to Hillsbrad. That was a long time ago, and I was very young. But the horde soon attacked there too, so my family fled further north to the kingdom of Alterc."
"But I thought the people of Altrec were traitors? That they were helping the horde."
"They were. The orcs were winning the war, so the king of Altrec made a deal with the warchief to try and save his kingdom. Too bad for him that the other alliance kingdoms found out about it. The combined human and elvish armies attacked the city and burned it to the ground. My family managed to leave the city several hours before the attack. If we had not, I probably wouldn't be alive today."
"Wow. That was lucky…" Edwynn paused in his practice.
"My father wasn't big on luck kid. He always said men like us have to make our own luck."
"What do you mean, men like us?" Edwynn asked.
Jorik didn't answer. Edwynn looked up to catch the stable master making a subtle gesture with his hand towards the stable gates. At the same time, the sound of hoofbeats could be heard approaching.
"Hide the dummy and the knives kid. I'll handle this."
Edwynn moved quickly to follow Jorik's instructions. He hear the stable master step outside and call a greeting to the unknown rider. Words were exchanged that Edwynn could not make out. Just as the boy finished placing the box with the knives and disassembled dummy into the stall, Jorik returned. He lead two horses, their riders following close behind. They were a man and a woman. He was broad shouldered, and had a military quality to him. She wore loose trousers and a expensive blouse, with several jeweled rings and a matching pendent around her neck. Odd symbols were woven into the fabric of her riding cloak.
"Quit your slacking kid!" Jorik called out. "See that these beasts are watered and brushed down." Jorik handed the reigns to Edwynn and turned his attention to the riders. "Now then, you must have ridden far to our good abbey. How was the faire?"
"Faire?" the man asked?
"The Darkmoon Faire. It should be in Goldshire until the end of the week"
"We did not come that way." The man made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Please good sir, we are in haste. Is your name Jorik Kerridan?"
With the mention of his mentor's name Edwynn felt his heart skip. Why would someone come to Northshire seeking a stable master? He finished stabling the second horse, and moved around so that he could pretend to unbridle it while watching what was going on. The two strangers stood side by side with their backs to Edwynn. Jorik was on the far side of the couple, with his own back to one of the closed stall doors.
"That might be my name. Who would be asking?"
The man casually reached for his belt and Edwynn heard the jingle of coins. "We were told to seek you out as a man with keen eyes and ears. Someone who would be aware of the comings and goings within the valley. Perhaps you have heard something of interest? Some new person or strange event yesterday or today?"
"This is a small valley sir, and news travels fast. The abbey has had no visitors for two days."
The woman hissed at her companion. "I told you this was a waste of time! No one could have crossed…"
The man cleared his throat, and then glanced meaningfully in Edwynn's direction. The woman followed his gaze and her eyes met Edwynn's. At the same time, he hand dropped to her waist, to the handle of a jeweled dagger there. Edwynn returned to vigorously removing the saddle.
"Ignore the boy." Jorik commented in almost an afterthought. "His silence, and my own, can be assured for a price. If you are looking for someone, someone who wishes to remain hidden, there are places that may prove fruitful to search."
"Oh?" the man asked, his interest clearly peaked.
Jorik nodded. "There is an abandoned copper mine to the northwest, at the foot of the mountains. It's infested with Kobolds, but they are little more than a nuisance really. "Thank you good sire. Please keep your ears open for any news. Particularly of strange visitors or wild beasts." The man tossed something towards Jorik, and Edwynn saw the glint of silver in the air. With that, he and the lady left quickly.
Jorik waited until they were out of sight before moving over to where Edwynn was removing the last of the horse's tackle.
"Who were they Jorik? How did they know your name?"
"You were watching kid, you know who they were."
"Huh?" Edwynn blinked in confusion. "I don't understand."
Jorik reached across and bonked Edwynn on the head. "Think kid! You've got to learn to use your head. Now what did you see?"
"Well, the woman had the look of a sorceress about her. And they said they didn't come from Goldshire, but that's the only road into the valley."
"Now you're thinking. They must have come to the valley by magic, or by some other means. What else?"
Edwynn turned to the horse he had just unsaddled. It seemed natural enough, a tall black mare with a clean coat. He then looked towards the tackle and saddlebags. As he reached for them, Jorik gently grabbed his wrist.
"Careful, kid. Wizard folk don't take kindly to having their belongings rifled through. It's easy enough to have their bags curse anyone who goes about opening it incorrectly. But this might tell us something." Jorik's gaze went to the bit and bridle.
"That leather looks odd." Edwynn remarked.
"Aye. I've never seen hide like it. These buckles though.." Jorik fingered the coal black metal holding the straps together. "This is dark iron. Dwarven craftsmanship. You'll not find this work outside Kaz Modan, and the Dark Iron clan trades with no friend of Stormwind. Strange visitors indeed."
"Well, they came here looking for you. They knew that you would be the one to ask if someone had come into the valley recently."
Jorik nodded silently, his keen eyes boring into Edwynn's. "And what does that tell you?"
Edwynn swallowed deeply. "That you're a spy?"
Jorik threw back his head and laughed. He then smiled at his pupil. "For who? The Dark Iron dwarves? Why would they send a spy to Northshire? To report back to their emperor every time brother Neals steals a bit from the wine harvest?" Jorik seemed to find some great entertainment in Edwynn's deduction. He then placed a hand on Edwynn's shoulder, and his voice took a more serious tone.
"You are right though Edwynn," Jorik called him by name for the first time that he could remember. "I was a spy once. For the alliance. For Stormwind. My father was the one who discovered Altrec's betrayal more than twenty years ago, and he trained me to follow in his footsteps. I'm too old to be creeping along rooftops and in windows now, so I've settled down, but my name can be found in the right circles. People know that if they need to find someone in these parts, I'm the man to ask.
"My father once told me 'men like us make our own luck. He meant men like you and me Edwynn. This world is a dangerous place, where orcs and demons threaten our kingdom. Stormwind needs wizards and knights and armies to fight it's battles, but even more, it needs men like us. Men who live by our wits and our blades. People call us thieves, rogues, scoundrels, or spys, but the truth is we are the most powerful weapon the kingdom has against it's enemies.
"We? You're talking like I'm a spy too?"
"Dammit kid, what do you think I've been training you for? The network is always looking for fresh recruits. The Light knows we need them! Besides, do you want to live at the abbey forever?"
--End Chapter 1.