Warcraft Fic: A Twist of Fate Chapter 6: Night of the Wicked Harvest
Chapter 6: Night of the Wicked Harvest
Author’s Notes: Okay, so, some warnings for this chapter. This chapter ended up being really long and having a lot of stuff happening in it. Also beware of horror elements and imagery.I also play with a lot of headcanons and worldbuilding in this chapter.
Khadgar clung to Medivh for dear life. He watched as the mountains of Deadwind Pass sped past, giving way to the forests of Sunny Glade. The tops of trees were a sea of rustling green bathed in the moonlight. The gryphon was suddenly jostled a little by a powerful gust of wind. Khadgar tightened his hold on the Magus and buried his face into the back of Medivh’s cloak.
“You okay back there?” Medivh called out over the wind.
“Y-yeah…!” Khadgar said, muffled against the cloak. “I’ve…just never been this high up before…!”
“We can go a bit lower if you need!” Medivh offered. Another squeeze around his waist was all the answer he needed. Carefully, Medivh steered his Gryphon to glide lower. “We’ll be reaching Elwynn soon. Hang in there, and please don’t throw up. If you throw up, I throw up, that’s unfortunately the rule.”
Khadgar turned his head and looked out once more. The sight of the ground being closer put him more at ease, and he gave a sigh of relief. It was amazing how fast the flight made the trip through Sunny Glade. Already Khadgar could see the river that divided Elywnn and Sunny Glade just up ahead. His hold on Medivh loosened, if only a little, as he pulled back just enough to get a better look around.
“Nothing quite like flying, huh?” Medivh called out to the younger mage.
Khadgar said nothing. He was too busy focusing on the feeling of flight. The wind blowing past them, the view of the moon above, the coolness of the night air. His anxiety melted away to an emotion he couldn’t quite name. Khadgar had seen many things done with magic throughout his life. What most would find amazing and wondrous was mundane to him. But there, in the skies, he felt goosebumps rise from his skin and a chill crawl up his spine. It was the first time in a long while that Khadgar felt a genuine sense of wonder.
They rode the winds. Medivh guided the gryphon to fly up a little higher, putting more distance between them and the trees. They soared over secluded forest houses, and soon enough, they arrived at a small town. The gryphon flew towards a tower that looked over it all. Khadgar had recognized it as a roost, where gryphons were usually kept. He had seen them when running errands for Guzbah. It then occurred to Khadgar that many of the errands he’d run that took him outside of Dalaran would have been much easier if they allowed him to use the gryphon services. Perhaps Guzbah thought it’d help Khadgar build some character. That was the usual excuse older people made. He wasn’t ready to think the worst of the man.
Medivh steered the gryphon in for a landing. Upon touching ground and trotting to a stop, Medivh patted the beast on the side of its neck affectionately, and praised her. “Good girl, thank you for the ride. We’ll be back soon.”
Medivh then climbed down from the saddle and offered a hand to Khadgar to help him down. He then turned his attention to one of the saddlebags, opened it up, and rummaged through it. He pulled out a quite old looking staff, adorned with a long red ribbon, a couple of baubles that hung from them, and an elegant-looking raven at its top. Khadgar could feel power thrumbing from within the staff. He had seen such things in Dalaran. Works of craftsmanship made from precious metals, rare woods, and gems. They had practical uses as focuses, allowing for spellwork to be done without the usual needed components. But they also were flaunted as status symbols. The more ornate, the more beautiful, was meant to say a lot about the mage holding it. Medivh’s staff was simple, beautifully carved, but lacked a lot of the usual flare. Khadgar couldn’t help the feeling of curiosity that nibbled away at him. There was a mystery there.
“Welcome to Goldshire.” Medivh announced, breaking Khadgar away from his thoughts. “We will not be staying here for long. It’s a nice little town during the day but…quite a strange place at night. I’m going to get our gryphon situated. Please don’t wander off.”
Khadgar frowned a little and looked out at the small town from the roost. He had to admit; it was certainly more lively than he would have expected a place to be at this time of night. There were plenty of people out on the streets. Their dress was certainly ‘different’. Khadgar could have sworn he spotted a pair dressed as the front and back ends of a horse meeting up with someone dressed in dark leather, sporting a riding crop. He could hear loud music in the distance and saw multi-colored lights flashing in the windows of what he assumed was a pub. He had to wonder if there was a festival happening.
Khadgar felt curiosity tugging at him. Surely it wouldn’t be too bad if he just went down and waited by the entrance, right? Perfectly harmless. With that thought in mind, Khadgar went on ahead, going down a set of stairs and stepping outside of the roost. He found himself suddenly swept away by a group of passersby. They barely paid him much attention, too focused on where they were heading. Khadgar stumbled free from the group, only to bump into another night dweller, and was shoved out of the way.
Khadgar almost tripped over himself before his back hit a brick wall. He could feel a sudden fear wash over him. He looked around and realized he had moved quite a distance away from the roost. Khadgar could feel his heartbeat picking up, he placed a hand on his chest in an attempt to calm it. He didn’t need his magic lashing out.
“J-just go back in the direction you came, you’ll be right back where you started.” Khadgar told himself. It felt more grounding to hear it, even if it was just from himself.
Khadgar took one deep breath, then one more, and the anxiety calmed, if only a little. He moved, looking up to find where the roost was. He saw the landing and more unease faded as he picked up the pace. Everything was fine. He’d be there in a minut–
A pair of arms reached out and grabbed onto him. A large, calloused hand clamped onto his mouth as the other arm snaked around his middle. Khadgar then found himself dragged into an alleyway. He was shoved against the wall of a building, his kidnapper’s forearm pressed against his throat. The glint of metal immediately caught Khadgar’s attention. His eyes locked onto the blade held close to his face, then moved to the face of the man who held it. Heat in the alleyway gradually rose. The palms of Khadgar’s hands began to itch and feel hot.
“What do we have here?” his captor said as he looked Khadgar over. “Todd, check his bag.”
Another man walked over and tore open Khadgar’s satchel. They rummaged through it. The silver cricket moved out of the way of the searching hand and hid in one of the bag’s inner pockets. The thief began tossing aside items. A makeshift book, a pack of tools. They were about to toss vials of catalysts until Khadgar found the ability to speak up.
“Those are valuable. Don’t throw them!”
The thief paused before giving a look at the vial in his hand. It was full of what appeared to be crushed amethyst. The corner of their mouth quirked into a crooked smile before he placed them back into the satchel. “May as well take the whole thing.”
Khadgar’s hand slammed down on the satchel. He couldn’t let them take it. He felt more pressure pressed against his neck. It was hard to breathe, let alone speak. Still, Khadgar’s stubbornness spurred him on, forcing out syllable after syllable of a spell.
He moved his hand from his satchel and grabbed onto the upper arm of the thief, crushing his throat. His palm ignited with roaring flames, the flash from the spell blinded the thief and Khadgar was able to push him off of himself. He gasped and gulped for air, breaking out into a cough.
“It’s a damned spellchucker! Forget this, you’re on your own!” The other thief sped out from the alleyway and disappeared into the crowds.
Khadgar moved to grab his spellbook and tools, but felt a violent tug on his hair. The thief that had pinned him had recovered and wasn’t about to let him go. He wrenched Khadgar onto the ground and sat on top of him. Before the young mageling could speak another spell, the thief’s hand clamped over his mouth. Khadgar’s hands shot up, trying to pry the hand away, but a glint caught his eye. The thief was about to plunge his knife down into him.
“That’s enough of that, thank you!”
Khadgar could have sworn he heard a familiar voice. He was too focused on the knife to be too sure. Suddenly, it moved away, trailing off to the side as the hand that held it struggled to keep a grip on it. Khadgar looked upwards and saw the hunched over form of Medivh. He stood behind the thief, the man’s ear pinched tightly between the Magus’ fingers.
“How about you leave the lad alone and you get to keep your ear?” Medivh said before turning his wrist a little. The thief cried out in pain but was guided to move to the side, and off of the mageling.
Khadgar scrambled to put as much distance as he could between himself and the thief. He watched as Medivh let go and stood at full height. The Magus was a considerably tall man. He had a lean build but with his feathered mantle and his staff at his side; he looked truly imposing.
The irises of Medivh’s eyes glowed a venomous green. In the shadows of the alley, he went from imposing to outright frightening. A boogeyman made real. “I’m not in the mood to deal with you. Leave us.”
The rest can be found on AO3
If you are new to the fic, Chapter 1 starts here.
