Chapter 15 – Reunions
"Uncle Mallet!"
Myrista flew towards the white haired man and embraced him furiously. He seemed quite surprised by this, but his hostile attitude dropped after a couple seconds when he realized who it was that was 'attacking' him.
"Light be praised, Myrista! Why, look at you!" The big man pushed her back to look her up and down. "You've grown up completely! You're the very image of your mother, but with my brother's hair." The old man then returned her embrace, lifting her clear off the ground.
This left Brogan and Edwynn blinking at each other in awe. Edwynn had never seen Mallius before, but had lived under the constant promise of his return. Whenever anything undisciplined happened at home. Corbin would use the threat 'wait until master Crownguard returns. Then you'll be sorry for your slacking off!'".
Brogan was even more amazed. The only things he knew about Captain Mallius "Mallet" Crownguard were the hundreds of war stories told around the abbey hearths every week. Mallet had fought in all three wars and survived them intact, a feat mimicked by few others. Stories grew with time and retellings, and many things attributed to Mallet were simply impossible. It had been so long since anyone had seen him that only the Crownguard household itself actually believed he was still alive. Stories had been circulating of how he died, but most were obvious fables.
A soft cough pulled Edwynn's attention away from the reunited family. Standing to his left, having appeared from almost nowhere a cloaked man was now standing within arms reach. The man pulled his hood back to reveal his face.
"You've had an eventful night." The stable master smiled.
"Jorik!" Elation flooded Edwynn and he started laughing and jumping like an idiot. Jorik chuckled and the Crownguards pulled themselves apart to watch the young rogue make a spectacle of himself to his mentor. Brogan smiled broadly and Myrista's eyes shone with tears.
"Oh uncle I've missed you so much!"
"I'm sorry it took me so long to come home, but I had… an errand to run. An oath to discharge. In Ogrimar, of all places, actually. But all that's behind us now. I'm here, and I'm going to set things right."
Meanwhile, Edwynn had calmed himself down considerably. "Jorik, what are you doing in Goldshire? How did you find us?"
"Oh, it wasn't that hard. We went from one burning manor house to another. You certainly know how to make an exit, boy! But seriously, I ran into Mallet yesterday in Stormwind. We made our way back to Northshire together. On the way we were jumped by a couple of Defias thugs. They were just Amateurs really. After a little…persuading they told us about the attack and how a couple of prisoners were taken back to their hideout. I just so happened to know where that was, so the big guy and I headed over there. Wouldn't you know it but that house was on fire too. We found another guy trying to loot some of the Defias treasure trove from out the back of the house. He mentioned how fifty Defias soldiers had died when the prisoners transformed into great beasts or fiery-eyed hellions. From there your trail led south. I figured it was late, you were probably tired and hungry, so I guessed you'd come here. And my guesses are usually right."
"Man, am I ever glad you found us. I've got so much to fill you in about. There's Mythril and this book…"
"Not here." Jorik held up his hand and glanced around. "This isn't the place for talk like that. You made some nasty enemies last night. Enemies with connections in this town. You kids need to get out of here."
"Yes." Brogan butted into the conversation. "We should get on the road soon. Very soon." He gave Edwynn a meaningful glance. His eyes seemed to shimmer like the air on a hot afternoon.
Edwynn turned to the Crownguards. "Um, guys. There'll be plenty of time to catch up on the road to Stormwind."
Mallet was about to protest, but a signal of some kind from Jorik stopped him. He sighed then, and turned to his niece. "You've grown up a lot since the last time I was here, but I'm sure Star won't mind giving you a ride."
A smile split her face from ear to ear. "Your horse is here? Oh, I must see her!" and with that she half ran, half skipped out the front door. Mallet and Brogan followed. Edwynn was about to bring up the rear when Jorik pressed something into his hand.
"You'll probably need this where you're going."
"You're not coming with us?" Edwynn's elevated mood drained suddenly.
"No, I have work to do here. Someone needs to stay behind and buy you some time. Mallet's presence will make that easier. A couple of juicy rumors and local hero sightings should buy you a day or two. When you get to Stormwind, slip away from the others and find your way to Old Town. A large building in the southeast end is the home of Mathias Shaw. The network is expecting your report. Don't keep them waiting."
Edwynn didn't move. Instead he opened the bundle Jorik had given him. Inside was a set of thin throwing knives and a pearl-handled dagger.
"The blade's enchanted. Nothing fancy, just a simple spell to keep the edge sharp and bind it to the owner. Keeps it from getting lost. Pretty handy for people in our line of work."
"Our line of work? You said the network was expecting my report. Does that mean they might let me join them?"
"Join them? Kid, you've been working for them for two months! What, you think the tailoring shop in Goldshire just happened to have a set of leathers in your size by accident? Now move it, you're out of time."
They were about a mile outside of town when Brogan excused himself to 'answer the call of nature.' The whole time Myrista had been talking excitedly from the back of Mallet's charger, Star. The mount was huge, carrying the young priestess without even noticing her weight. Mallet, Edwynn, and Brogan all walked. The horse had been Mallet's companion for nearly twenty years, but looked as young and hearty as any mare in Jorik's stable. She pulled a small wagon carrying the paladin's meager possessions. Edwynn had thought to ride it, but a stern look from the elder Crownguard set him back to walking.
Myrista talked constantly while they waited for Brogan. Edwynn found this rather irritating but said nothing to interrupt her. Jorik had started teaching him how to 'read people' in the last couple of weeks. Myrista's inane babbling was her way of coping with all the stress that had built up, not just last night, but over the nearly a year that she had been leading the household. What annoyed Edwynn was that she seemed to be avoiding talk of any of the important issues. She carried on about managing the farmhands, or the tax situation, or school. But she specifically avoided talking about last night, or her father.
Mallius too seemed to realize that she was venting for her own benefit, not his. He occasionally would cast a glance in Edwynn's direction and smile while rolling his eyes. Then immediately prompt Myrista for some minor detail of her story. Edwynn decided he liked the old paladin. Mallius was smaller than he sounded like in stories, but was still a big man. His face was hard and weathered like old leather. His white hair was neat and cut long, stopping just above his shoulders. His face was clean shaven except for a tuft of white beard on his chin. He wore no armor, but a bulky sack in the wagon sounded full of something heavy and metal. Next to it he had placed his silver-headed warhammer.
The weapon was fantastic. The white pine shaft was notched by battle in a hundred places. The head was a solid block of metal studded with runes. While not exactly glowing, it did seem to emanate a sense of weight and force.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Mallius asked.
"Huh." Edwynn blinked up. It seemed that he had been staring at the hammer for a while. Both of the Crownguards were watching him with smiles.
"The hammer's name is Godkend. Dwarven for 'Justice'. It was crafted after the second war as a gift to the alliance from the Wildhammer clan. Uther lent it to me six years ago, when the troubles in Lorderon were just beginning. After he died, the Order of the Silver Hand splintered. Saiden Dathrohan wanted me to bring it to Hearthglen, but bishop Benedictus asked me to hold onto it. Good thing to, since the Scarlett Crusade seems to have descended into a kind of zealotry that would have made Uther's skin crawl. Anyway, I'll give it back to Benedictus when we get to Stormwind."
"You're not going to keep it?" Edwynn asked. "It must be worth a fortune."
"I'm done with war. Godkend is a powerful tool against evil. And would be wasted hanging above a mantle place in Northshire. There's a lot of work to be done." He gave Edwynn an odd look at that point. The rogue was about to ask him what he meant when Brogan returned.
"Sorry that took so long. Must have been breakfast." The blonde was smiling, and seemed to be in a genuine good mood. "Still feeling a little queasy. I may have to go again in about an hour."
"Brogan, right?" Mallius frowned at the youth. "Come here lad."
The warlock stepped forward slowly. The old man held out his left hand.
"Let me see that wound of yours." His tone was casual, but his blue eyes were cold as ice. Brogan glanced at the hammer in the cart, ten feet away. Fear coursed through him. Mallet was a champion of the alliance, and had been killing warlocks and demons for over thirty years. What would he think if he knew the truth? But Brogan was caught now, and there was no escape. Slowly he lifted his own hand and placed it in Mallet's hand.
The paladin slowly unwrapped the wound and looked at it. Gripping Brogan's hand tightly by the wrist, the old man gently pulled at the skin around the wound. Brogan winced in pain, but didn't cry out.
"There's trouble here." He said. His eyes were locked to Brogan's carrying hidden meanings. The warlock merely nodded in response.
Mallet released Brogan's hand and went to Star's saddlebag. He pulled out a fresh woolen bandage and a wooden splint. He then returned to the boy and began to dress the wound properly.
"A cut to the palm is bad business. If it gets infected, or heals improperly, you'll lose the ability to close your fingers. I've seen men get gangrene and lose arms from wounds smaller than that."
"Yes sir." Was all Brogan could say.
Mallet finished the dressing. Brogan could move his fingers, but his palm was immobilized.
"That should speed the healing. You'll need to clean and dress it twice a day or it could get ugly."
"Yes sir. Thank you, sir."
Mallet took Star's reigns and began to lead her onward. Brogan and Edwynn exchanged glances. Inwardly Brogan gave a sigh of relief.
"That happened yesterday?" Mallet asked without looking back.
"Yes… Sir!" Brogan replied.
"And my niece's magic couldn't heal it?"
Fear washed over Brogan. Silence was his only response.
"How about you kids tell me what happened. All of it."
They walked all day, and it took almost the entire time to tell the story. Mallet worked backwards, asking each of them to fill in the parts they knew best. Myrista talked about Nicholas's behavior during his final months at the manor. He asked Brogan about his dreams, and why he came to the manor in the middle of the rainstorm. He asked Edwynn about Mythril and the events in the forest before his capture. He was surprisingly gentle in his interrogation, and by late afternoon all three children had a better idea of the events of the evening than before.
Finally they came to part where Brogan told the story of his dream encounter with the demoness Balba'yorn. Once again the young man omitted that the creature took Myrista's form. Mallet listened to it all, nodding his head the whole time.
"This is my fault." The old paladin stated at last. Mallet's face had grown darker and angrier since they recounted Mythril's tale of the book's history. "I should never have brought Mog No'ku gi Maguna home."
"Mog what gi what?" Edwynn asked.
"It's orcish. It means 'the book of worlds'. I found it on the battlefield below Blackrock Mountain. That was the day Lothar died. Once Ogrim was captured, we routed the remains of the Horde. Late that afternoon I saw four orcish warlocks killing each other as they squabbled over some treasure. My men and I took advantage of this and ambushed them. One of the enemies got away, and from your story he was the one who had a piece of the prize. I couldn't read orcish, but I knew the book was valuable and magical. At camp that night I showed it to one of the elven mages who traveled with us. He said he would have a look at it."
"That night he woke me in my tent, his eyes wide with fear. He told me the book was filled with deadly orc secrets, and must never be opened by anyone. He gave it back to me, and said not to show it to the Kirin Tor, or the elves, or anyone else. He bade me keep it secret, and never, under any circumstances, to burn it. The next day there was a minor battle with some of the Horde remnants. The elf mage volunteered to go with the skirmishers who were sent to flush out the enemy. He never returned. Accounts were conflicted, but one scout said he saw the mage start to cast a fireball, but instead throw it at his own feet, and let the flames consume him."
"I kept the book with me for the rest of the war. When I finally returned to Stormwind, there was a lot of rebuilding to be done. The king gave me a grant of land in Northshire, and I used my spoils to build the manor and hire some homesteaders. I put the book in an old trunk, and shoved it in the back of the attic. Sometimes I would have a dream about it. But otherwise it was out of mind completely."
"We cleared out the attic about two springs ago." Edwynn offered.
"I remember." Myrista added. "And a couple of months later was when father started acting… peculiar."
"Indeed…" Mallet mused. "I should have thrown it into the Swamp of Sorrows when I had the chance. My brother must somehow have found it and opened it and begun all of this. If only I had come home sooner…"
"Don't blame yourself uncle. You couldn't have known…"
"Damn you Nicholas, what have you begun here?" Mallet glanced at Brogan. "You made the right choice young man."
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Brogan blinked disbelievingly at the paladin.
"You chose to stand and fight instead of accepting almost certain death. Many would not have made that decision. You've got courage and spirit. I don't know much about demon magic, but every warlock I've heard of choose to take the pact for power or greed. You choose it out of sacrifice, to save the lives of your friends and to battle evil. That is a noble deed."
Brogan was stunned. The hero of Northshire was calling him noble? "You don't hate me because I'm a warlock?"
"Uther once told me that we should judge men by their deeds, not their titles. Of course, he wasn't exactly talking about this at the time, but the quote works. No, I don't hate you young man, but I don't envy you either. The magic of the Light can be used to perform great deeds and heal terrible wounds, but demon magic can only be used to destroy. And that is something it does very, very well. But keep your chin up lad. You seem to have a strong will. If you fight, I think you'll find the strength to hold out against the corrupting influences of this monster. At least until I destroy her."
"But uncle, we don't even know exactly where Mythril went. How will we find her?"
"We aren't going to find her, because you aren't going to be looking." Mallet gave his niece a stern look. "You're too young for this sort of work. All of you are. As soon as we get to Stormwind we're going straight to the cathedral. If I have my way Myrista, you'll be in a nunnery far from danger until I get all this settled."
"Uncle please!"
"Don't give me any lip, young lady. I've risked my life for thirty years trying to keep you and your father safe from the evils of this world. You're the last of the Crownguards. I'm not going to let you run off and get killed when there are others who are vastly more prepared to do this sort of work."
Edwynn half-laughed at the thought of Myrista as a nun. Brogan asked the question: "Prepared for what sort of work? Fighting demons?"
"Yes as a matter of fact. Battle mages, combat priests, or even professional soldiers. I hear the Night Elves even have demon hunters who have devoted hundreds of years to this very cause. You kids got lucky last night, but you're a long way from being cut out for the job ahead. Now, I can't force you boys to do anything you don't want, but my niece is going to finish her schooling."
"But uncle…"
"He's right Myrista." Brogan said suddenly. She looked back at him, and even Mallet seemed surprised to hear him agree. For his own part, Brogan was remembering what Balba'yorn had said, about needing training. "I think we all need to consider if we've got what it takes for what we're up against."
Myrista frowned and faced forward. "I'm not a little girl anymore." Was all she said.
They rounded a corner then, and came out of the forest. Edwynn stopped dead in his tracks. Ahead the ground rose quickly as the road approached a monstrous white stone gate. Door over fifty feet wide stood open, letting a stream of people flow in and out of the eighty foot tall wall. Shining white steeples and rooftops could be seen beyond the gate's battlements. And in the distance the towers of Stormwind keep rose towards the clouds. It was larger and more fantastic than any dream the boy had ever had.
"I guess we're here…" Edwynn said at last.