Cycle of Hatred

Sixteen

Aegwynn watched with bitter amusement as Jaina Proudmoore tried to break the demonic wards. The girl had left Aegwynn's hut to go to the periphery of the wards—which were in the same location as the previous ones—and try to penetrate them from close up, at which Aegwynn didn't expect her to be any more successful.

Zmodlor obviously had no interest in meeting Aegwynn again, since he'd gone to the trouble to trap her here once Proudmoore dispersed the old wards. After all, as long as those wards, which were up due to Aegwynn's desire, were in place, Zmodlor had nothing to worry about. But if the wards went down, he'd be concerned, and so would have a backup in place.

Not that it mattererd. Aegwynn was long past the point of being able to fight demons magically.

After her latest failed attempt, Proudmoore reached into her cloak and pulled out some jerky. Almost unconsciously, Aegwynn nodded her approval. Whoever mentored the girl was sensible enough to teach her the practicalities. That was something Scavell, for all his brilliance, had never covered. It wasn't until the third time she collapsed from hunger following the pursuit of a demon that she thought to bring food with her on such missions.

Then the girl turned to face Aegwynn. "Perhaps if we combine our forces, we can do it."

"Not bloodly likely." Aegwynn laughed bitterly. "Adding my ‘forces' to yours would give you the same result. My magical abilities have long since…atrophied." The word was inaccurate, but was sufficient for the purposes of answering Proudmoore's question. "A pity there's no one on the other side to serve as a conduit."

"A conduit for what?"

Aegwynn revised her estimate of Proudmoore's teacher back downward. "Don't you know Meitre's penetration spell?"

Proudmoore shook her head. "Most of Meitre's scrolls were destroyed ten years ago. I learned the ones that were salvaged, but that one doesn't sound familiar."

"Pity," was all Aegwynn would say. It mattered little to her whose wards were up, as long as they kept her safe here. She wanted nothing more than to live out the rest of her days away from the world she'd already done too much damage to.

"Why are you so weakened?"

Aegwynn sighed. She should have expected that.

Then again, perhaps Proudmoore needed to hear the entire story. Or at least, Aegwynn's own verison of it.

Twenty—five years ago…

Medivh had taken up residence in the tower of Kharazan in the Redridge Mountains, located in a series of hillocks. Surrounded only by vines and weeds—the old trees of the Elwynn Forest no longer made it up this far; they had died after Medivh took up residence—the tor on which Medivh had his keep was shaped exactly like a human skull.

Aegwynn found the shape to be sadly appropriate. She approached the place now on foot, having no desire to do anything to alert her son to her approach.

The Guardians of Tirisfal were dead. Orcs now rampaged throughout Azeroth. War had broken out all over the world. The source of all this?

Her own flesh and blood.

She didn't know how it was possible. She had sired Medivh to carry on her work, not unravel it.

Only when she arrived at the gates did she feel it. Her son was present, she knew that much, as were Moroes, the house servant, and the cook—though the latter two were both asleep in their respective chambers. But she felt another, one whose essence was intertwined with that of her son. One whom she had defeated centuries ago.

No longer bothering with her attempt to arrive subtly, she cast a wind spell that slammed into the gate, gale forces shattering the wood into a thousand pieces.

Her son stood on the other side. He had inherited Aegwynn's great height and her eyes; from Nielas Aran came his broad shoulders and elegant nose. His gray—flecked hair was tied back in a respectable ponytail, and he kept his salt—and—pepper beard well trimmed. His maroon cloak flowed behind him in the breeze.

Yet the being that stood before her was unrecognizable as her son. For, though her eyes saw Medivh, her entire wizardly being saw only Sargeras.

"How is this possible? I killed you."

Medivh laughed a demonic laugh. "Mother, are you truly that much of a fool? Did you really think that a mere girl could destroy the greatness that is Sargeras? He used you. Used you to make me. He hid within you, then—when you so ably seduced my father—transferred his essence to my fetus. He has been my constant companion—my mentor, the parent you never let me have."

Aegwynn couldn't believe it. How could she have been so blind? "You killed the council."

"Did you not always say that they were fools?"

"That's not the point! They didn't deserve to die!"

"Of course they did. You didn't teach me very much, Mother. You were always far too busy with your duties as Guardian to actually raise the son you brought into the world to succeed you. But one lesson you did impart on one of the rare occasions when you bothered to acknowledge my existence was that the council were fools. It was Sargeras who taught me what the final fate of all fools must be. You see, Mother, I learned all my lessons well."

"Stop pretending, Sargeras," she said. "Stop speaking in my son's voice."

Medivh threw his head back and laughed. "Don't you understand, little girl? I am your son!" He raised his hands. "And I am your end."

What happened next happened far more quickly than Aegwynn would have imagined. She remembered very little of the details, which was probably a mercy. All she knew for sure was that she had a harder and harder time countering Medivh's—or, rather, Sargeras's—spells and that he had an easier and easier time countering hers.

Weakened, battered, bleeding, Aegwynn collapsed to the stone floor of Medivh's keep, barely able to lift her head. Her son stood over her, laughing. "Why do you look so sad, Mother? I am exactly as you made me. After all, you sired me in order to circumvent the council and carry on your heritage. You did that. From the moment you destroyed Sargeras's physical form, thus freeing him to reside within you, your heritage was to facilitate Sargeras's will. Now you have fulfilled your purpose." He grinned. "One final poke in the eye to the council, eh?"

Aegwynn's blood turned to ice. Those were her thoughts upon Medivh's conception. She had never used that phrase aloud, certainly never to Medivh. She had indeed been a minor presence in his life at first, mostly for his own protection—she couldn't afford to let it be known that her son was in Stormwind, for fear that her enemies would use him against her. Indeed, she only revealed that she was his mother when he had passed puberty.

At that moment, she ceased all resistance. She no longer wished to live in a world that she had betrayed so thoroughly. In her eagerness to do her job right, to prove the council wrong in their dismissal of her, she had led to the victory of demonkind.

Not since she finished her apprenticeship had Aegwynn cried. The birth of her child, the death of her parents, the losses against demons—none of it had made her weep. She had always been stronger than that. Now, though, tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she looked up at her son, who laughed at her anguish.

"Kill me."

"And let you off the hook? Don't be a fool, Mother. I said I was your end, not your death. Allowing you to expire would not begin to atone for what you have done to me." Then he muttered an incantation.

Eight centuries ago, the council had given her the power of the Guardian, and it had been the most wonderful experience of her life. It was what it might have been like for a blind person to see for the first time. When she passed that power on to Medivh, it had been less wonderful, but still she had a feeling of satisfaction in creating her legacy, and the departure of the power had been smooth and pleasant, like drifting slowly to sleep.

Now, though, her power was being ripped from her by Medivh, and it felt like being struck blind, deaf, and dumb. Her entire body felt deadened—it was less like falling asleep and more like falling into a coma.

But she remained awake and aware of all that was happening. And she realized that if she stayed here, Medivh—or, rather, Sargeras—would keep her here. She would reside in the keep's dungeon, no doubt, able to see and hear all that went on, be made aware of every foul deed that her son performed in Sargeras's name.

She also realized something else—she was still young. Which meant that Medivh had not taken the de—aging magic from her.

That was her salvation, she realized. She gathered up the remaining tatters of her concentration and unleashed the magic of the de—aging spells, grabbing it, harnessing it, and re—forming it into a teleport spell that would take her away from here.

Moments later, her hair having gone white, her skin having wrinkled, her bones having grown weaker, she found herself on Kalimdor, in a grassy region in the mountains of the continent's eastern coast.

Proudmoore's voice was quiet when she said, "That must have been terrible for you."

"It was." Aegwynn shuddered. In fact, it was worse than that, but she had simply hit the high points for Proudmoore's benefit. She had actually tried to reason with Medivh, and tried to get an explanation from him as to why he did what he did—as if Sargeras needed a reason. But she saw no need to burden Proudmoore with that much—the point of the story was to show the depths of her own stupidity. She continued: "When I came here, I was able to use what little magic I had left to determine that there was no one around. I built my hut, planted my garden, dug my well. The wards didn't go up until Thrall and his people settled nearby."

"I'm not surprised." There was an odd tone to Proudmoore's voice when she said that—as if she knew something Aegwynn didn't.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Before Proudmoore could answer, Aegwynn heard something. Proudmoore heard it too, as they both turned to face south. It sounded familiar, but it was a noise Aegwynn hadn't heard in years.

Moments later, her suspicion was confirmed: the noise was made by the displacement of air by a massive dirigible, which was now coming around one of the Bladescar peaks. It stopped right in front of the wards and hovered. Aegwynn assumed a mage—or at the very least, a sensitive—was on board.

A rope ladder fell from the undercarriage, and a figure in plate armor started to climb down. As the figure came closer, Aegwynn recognized the insignia on the armor as that of a colonel.

To her shock, the figure was a human female. She turned and gave Proudmoore a questioning glance.

The girl smiled. "If a woman can be a Guardian of Tirisfal, why can't a woman be a colonel?"

Aegwynn had no choice but to concede the point.

"Milady," the woman said as she came down off the bottom rung of the rope, "I'm afraid I bring bad news." She then looked askance at Aegwynn.

"Colonel Lorena, this is Magna Aegwynn. You may speak as freely to her as you would to me."

The colonel nodded and started to speak. Apparently the word of Jaina Proudmoore was enough for this colonel. Aegwynn grudgingly admitted to being impressed. A woman didn't rise to such a position without a great deal of hard work—she suspected that Lorena was twice as good as any male colonel, simply because she would have to be to succeed. If someone that talented trusted Proudmoore so implicitly, then Proudmoore may have been a more impressive specimen than Aegwynn had been willing to credit.

Perhaps there was something to the girl's hero worship after all.

Lorena said, "Ma'am, it is my firm belief that Chamberlain Kristoff is a member of the Burning Blade—that he has conspired to increase our forces at Northwatch and provoke the orcs into a conflict."

Proudmoore's face fell. "Kristoff? I don't believe that."

But the colonel spent the next several minutes explaining what had happened in Proudmoore's absence from Theramore.

When she was done, Aegwynn asked, "When did this Burning Blade start?"

"We're not sure," Proudmoore said. "We think it's related to a former orc clan. Why?"

"Because Zmodlor started a cult called the Burning Blade. In fact, the sword he was going to use to sacrifice the children he'd imprisoned was covered in oil and was to be set alight when the sacrifice commenced. Since Zmodlor is around, it's possible he was involved with those orcs as well."

Lorena spoke up before Proudmoore could respond to that. "Milady, why are you behind these wards? I brought Booraven with us to track you down, and she said there were wards up so we couldn't pass. But—why haven't you come out from behind them?"

"I'm afraid I can't. When I arrived here, I was able to penetrate the wards that had been put up, but they've been replaced with demonic wards from the very same Zmodlor that Magna Aegwynn was just discussing. I'm afraid I do not have the knowledge to bypass them."

"A pity," Aegwynn said. "If these were still my wards, I would let you through in an instant."

Snorting, Proudmoore said, "Don't be ridiculous—they were never your wards. They were Medivh's."

Aegwynn stared at Proudmoore in open—mouthed shock. "How did you—"

"When I first arrived here, I recognized the magic used for the wards as belonging to one of the Tirisfalen. But after I penetrated them, I realized I knew which of the Tirisfalen it was, because I'd encountered it before. As I tried to tell you earlier, I knew Medivh—it was he that brought human and orc to this land, and he that convinced us to ally against the Burning Legion. I know his magic quite well."

Lorena spoke before Aegwynn could respond. "Milady, with respect, time grows short. We must get you out of there. There has to be a way."

Proudmoore looked at Aegwynn. "There is. Teach me that spell of Meitre's." Pointing at the colonel, she added, "We now have the conduit."

"Very well," Aegwynn said, "if it means you'll leave me in peace."

"I'm afraid that's not possible."

Aegwynn blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're coming with us."

Snorting, Aegwynn said, "Am I?"

"Yes. You are the magna, the Guardian who is all that stands between us and the demonic hordes. It is your responsibility to come with us."

"On what are you basing this ridiculous notion?"

"You said that Zmodlor built these wards. That means he is active—for all we know, he is responsible for the Burning Blade that is even now cutting through the alliance Thrall and I built at your son's behest. But you thought you defeated him eight centuries ago—obviously you didn't finish the job, and it is your responsibility—"

"What do you know of responsibility?" Aegwynn cried. "For eight—"

"Yes, I know what you did, Magna, you've told me quite a bit about your failures, your deceits, your lies, your arrogance—but what you've also reminded me of is that you never once shirked your responsibility as Guardian. Everything you did—from facing Zmodlor to defying the council to siring Medivh—was done because you believed in what you did. Regardless of your mistakes, of your defeats, you never once shirked that responsibility. Until now." Proudmoore shook her head. "You asked me what I know of responsibility, and right now I'd say more than you, because you never had to be responsible to anyone save yourself. I have led people into battle, and I have ruled them when the battle was over—and right now, the people who have trusted me need me, and it may well be because of a demon you were supposed to have killed. I will not see everything we have built here be brought down by your self—pity, Magna."

"I believe I've earned the right to determine my own destiny."

"Because you brought Medivh back?"

Again Proudmoore had managed to stun Aegwynn with her perspicacity. She found herself unable to speak.

"We always wondered how Medivh came back from the dead after Khadgar and Lothar defeated him. It would have taken powerful magic to do so. I might have been able to do it, and so could one or two others, but if they had, they would have admitted it. You said you were drained by your fight with Medivh, but there is one thing that could substitute for that necessary power, and that's the bond between mother and son."

Aegwynn nodded, staring off into space at an indeterminate point on one of the Bladescar peaks. "With what was left of the de—aging magic, I was able to scry in the well water and learn what was happening. I saw my son killed by his apprentice and his best friend—and I saw Sargeras banished from him. So I spent years building up the power to bring him back. When I did, it almost killed me. That was why the wards were Medivh's—I no longer had the strength to cast them. Or anything else. I still don't." She turned to face Proudmoore. "That was my swan song, Lady Proudmoore. It cannot even begin to make up for all I have done wrong."

"I disagree. What you've done is sire a son who saved the world. It may have taken a while, but what he did was exactly what you would have done—what you conceived him to do. He went against the conventional wisdom and was proactive in fighting the Burning Legion by convincing Thrall and me to unite our forces. He didn't learn that from Sargeras, and he didn't learn that from whatever afterlife you retrieved him from—he learned that from you."

Lorena had been standing semipatiently during this entire conversation, her obvious respect for Lady Proudmoore overcoming her soldier's desire for action. "Milady—"

"Yes, of course," Aegwynn said, "your colonel is right. Zmodlor needs to be defeated—permanently this time." She sighed. "Prepare yourself, Colonel Lorena—this may hurt a bit. Lady Proudmoore, repeat after me."

And then Aegwynn taught Jaina Proudmoore Meitre's penetration spell.