Warcraft: Official Movie Novelization

There was no time for lectures, no time for posturing or arguing about who was right or wrong or anything other than what was going on with Medivh. Khadgar was not the boy who had left only a few short months ago. He had seen more horrors in the last few days than, he suspected, had any of these old mages in their entire lifetimes. He did not rise to challenge Shendra’s accusations, keeping his gaze on Antonidas. “What do you know of the Dark Portal?” he demanded.

“You come back,” Antonidas sneered, “and accuse the Guardian—”

Khadgar lifted the sketch he had showed Lothar—the one of the Great Gate, and the mysterious figure inviting the Horde into Azeroth.

“What,” he asked, “is Alodi?”

The chamber fell silent. Antonidas looked stunned. Whispers came: “Who is he to speak of that?” “How does he know?”

They took him to the bowels of the Violet Citadel. Khadgar had known the Citadel had a prison level, but had never been here. It was not deemed necessary; he was to be the Guardian of Azeroth, and the archmages would take care of Dalaran. He looked about, frankly stunned at the myriad magical wards, until at last the door was opened to a single large cell, and his eyes widened as he was escorted inside.

The humming sound of voices was oddly soothing as Khadgar tried to take everything in. Four mages were stationed at the compass points. They stood stiffly, their bodies held taut in almost unnaturally perfect stillness, their eyes closed. All that moved was their mouths, a regular incantation flowing from their lips. In front of them floated placidly bobbing purple sigils, and from these flowed a steady stream of magenta magic.

In the center, surrounded by the mages and the sigils, was an enormous black cube that hovered about a foot off the floor. The inky surface rippled, as if the cube were composed of thick, sludgy fluid. As the spells reached the cube, they revealed swirls and markings on its surface in no language that Khadgar recognized.

“Alodi,” was all Antonidas said.

This was decidedly unhelpful. “What is it?”

His eyes never leaving the form, Antonidas replied, “An entity from a time before the Kirin Tor existed. We think it once served a function similar to that of the Guardian.”

Ask Alodi. “A protector…” Khadgar whispered, his eyes glued to the languidly rippling surface of the cube.

Antonidas turned to him. “No one beyond the arch-council knows of its existence… and it will stay that way!” Khadgar hesitated, then nodded his agreement.

The archmage scowled, but he looked more lost than angry. At last he said, “For you to mention it by name in the same breath as the dark portal is too much to be mere—”

Movement caught their attention. A fluid… crack? Line? Khadgar wasn’t sure which to call it—began to make its way vertically up the side of the cube that faced them. A semicircular segment shimmered, and Khadgar caught a glimpse of his and Antonidas’s reflections. Then, it simply vanished, leaving an open area. More slick blackness gushed forward from the newly-created entrance and rippled, forming stairs that led to the dark interior.

“—coincidence,” Antonidas finished, weakly.

Khadgar’s mouth was desert-dry. “Do… do I go in?” he managed, his voice cracking slightly.

“I don’t know.” Antonidas stared with open astonishment. “It’s never done that before.”

Ask Alodi.

Well, Khadgar thought grimly, here’s my chance. And slowly, his heart in his mouth, he stepped forward, climbing up the slightly vibrating stairs, into the heart of the thing called Alodi.

17

The cube was as black inside as it was outside. Khadgar ascended, pausing on the final stair, then stepped forward to enter. Instantly the wall behind him sealed shut and the wall in front of him emitted a slitted light. He felt the surface upon which he stood undulating. It was silent—utterly so, a stillness such as Khadgar had never experienced.

“Alodi?” he asked, and his voice was loud and strangely flat; no resonance, no echo, swallowed up as if he had not spoken, had never spoken.

Then, the silence was broken again—but not by him. “We do not have long, Khadgar,” said the voice—husky, warm, feminine. Khadgar gasped as he saw a lump materialize “I have used the last of our power to bring you to us.” The lump shifted, elongated. Now it resembled a person standing up, still covered with the black, slick substance that comprised the rest of the cube. As Khadgar stared, enraptured, the form refined itself. The black material began to look more like cloth, the shape fleshed out, becoming more detailed.

Khadgar gasped.

“I know you! The library—”

That mysterious shape, which had pointed out the book to him and then vanished. The book that had “Ask Alodi” scribbled on its pages.

“All are in danger,” Alodi continued. “We are counting on you.

“The Guardian has betrayed us,” she said, sadly.