Warcraft: Official Movie Novelization

And so, for Callan and not for himself, Anduin Lothar did not hurl himself against the lightning again. He did not scream in fury. He stood, quietly, even peacefully, Callan’s hazel eyes locked with his own. Lothar kept that gaze, even when the orc, finally understanding the significance of the prize he clutched, grinned with deep satisfaction, the expression stretching his hideous, misshapen face around the jutting tusks.

He turned back to Callan, lifted his arm and the bloodstained claw that was grafted onto it, and brought it down.

It felt as though the weapon had plunged into his own body, carving out his heart as it sliced though Callan’s armor and flesh. The orc lifted the body of Callan Lothar as if it were a piece of speared meat. He hurled Lothar’s boy toward him, to crash and sizzle into the blue-white spears of lightning, then fall, limp, to the uncaring stone.

Slowly, Lothar raised his eyes. Hatred, cold and cleansing, replaced his anguish, for this moment at least. And as he gazed at the smug, grinning orc who had eviscerated the last thing Lothar loved, Lothar made them both a promise.

I will kill you. However long it may take, whatever it will cost me… I will kill you, for what you have done here today.

“He’s here!”

At Garona’s shout, Khadgar closed his eyes briefly in relief. He hastened over to where she knelt beside what at first looked like a discarded pile of clothing. As he drew closer, he sucked in a breath at the sight of the Guardian.

The only motion was the faint rise and fall of Medivh’s chest. Otherwise, he was terribly still. Cheekbones jutted out in a hollow, pale face dotted with sweat.

“What’s wrong with him?” Garona asked. Khadgar had no decisive answer, only suspicions he was not willing to share. Not yet. “We need to get him to Karazhan,” he said.

Garona nodded. “I’ll get horses.”

“You won’t make it in time by road.” Llane’s voice was clear and strong. “You’ll take one of my birds.”

The king lifted his hand in a signal to one of his men, who nodded and unfurled a long, leather tube. He raised the tube and began to spin it around his head. The device caught the air and produced a sharp whistling sound. The response was swift: A dot appeared in the sky, dropping down toward them. It was one of the royal gryphons, its white feathers and brown lion’s body a welcome sight. Its powerful wings created a wind that blew back Khadgar’s hair as it landed, shook itself, and looked at the gryphon master expectantly.

A few days ago, Khadgar had never even beheld the creatures. Now, he had ridden them more than once, and this time he was the more experienced of the two who now climbed into the gryphon’s saddle. Other events that had occurred had more importance and urgency, but he cherished this little pleasure in the midst of all the horror.

Settled astride the beast, Khadgar and Garona reached to accept Medivh’s frighteningly limp body. Without even thinking, Khadgar let Garona hold the Guardian, knowing her arms were stronger than his. As her green arms wrapped around the Guardian, the young mage suddenly realized what a great gesture of trust this was. She knew it, too, and nodded, the barest trace of a smile curving around her tusks.

Llane caressed the head of the great beast, looked it in the eyes, and commanded it: “Karazhan! Go!”

Moroes was waiting for them as they rushed down the stairs from the landing to the main chamber, Medivh slack in Garona’s muscular arms. Khadgar saw that the servant didn’t seem in the least bit surprised, although his already lined face was further furrowed in worry.

“Place him in the font,” Moroes instructed.

“Moroes,” Khadgar demanded. “What’s wrong with the Guardian?”

As Khadgar himself had done when Garona had posed that question, Moroes did not answer, just shook his white head. “I told him not to leave Karazhan,” he said, more to himself than to them.

Together, Moroes and Garona placed Medivh in the magical font, arranging him carefully, leaving only his head and chest floating above the white wisps of living magic. Khadgar had wrapped his cloak around Medivh to help protect the Guardian from the cold air during the flight. The cloth had bunched up beneath the Guardian’s head when they had placed him in the font. Gently, Khadgar lifted Medivh’s head to remove the cloak.

Now, at last, Medivh showed some signs of life, if vague and confused. His eyelids flickered, then opened. The young mage’s heart spasmed as he saw the faintest flicker of green light in Medivh’s eyes.

His gut clenched, and he swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “I have to go,” he blurted. “We need the help of the Kirin Tor… Now!”

“Go,” Garona urged him.

As he pelted up the stairs, Khadgar heard Moroes tell Garona, “There are medicines I must prepare. Sit with him.”