Many years ago.
Meglynn stared apprehensively at the mages’ tower. She had ventured there shortly after the noon meal and now it was well nigh time for the evening meal. Poised on the brink of adulthood, Meg felt even more awkward than usual, and a little scared, at the thought of presenting herself to the mages inside for training.
But a faint glimmer of excitement leaked through the awkward feeling. Finally, she would get to learn magic! If only she would actually go to the tower. Her parents had sacrificed so much to give her this opportunity, leaving home, friends, and extended family to move to Stormwind so that she could follow her dream. A dream that must have seemed nearly incomprehensible to simple village tailors such as they. All she need do was take the step and soon she’d be wielding the magics that she had dreamed of! And even experimented with a little on her own.
Finally, near dusk, she walked to the door and stepped within.
A number of years ago.
“What?!” Norwyn Tela glared at his youngest child, his only daughter. “Megly, how could you do this to your mother?”
Meglynn glanced over to where Elethia Tela sat quietly at the table, stitching a seam on a fine linen shirt. Meg could tell that her mother was also upset, by the way she avoided meeting her eyes.
“I’m sorry, father. Mother. I think this is something I have to do. I can’t just stay in the tower studying the rest of my life. Important things are going on outside the walls. I should use what I know to help!” Meg looked from one to the other. She had known that this would be difficult. But even so.
Her mother leaned even further over her sewing and said nothing.
“You wouldn’t be studying forever,” her father said. “The masters there say that you are talented. You would make a fine teacher. And then you would stay safe here in the city.”
“Mat has found a nice young lady here,” her mother added. “I have a good feeling about them. And I’m sure there’s a young man good enough for my Megly.”
Meg sighed at the mention of her older brother Mather. “I’m not ready to start a family of my own. Though I’m thrilled for Mat. And I don’t think I’d be a very good teacher. Particularly when I’ve not actually applied what I’ve learned.” She conjured a small ball of fire in one hand, then dismissed it. “Fine tricks! Very pretty! But I can do more. And there are places that can use my kind of help!”
“People are getting killed in those places!” her father yelled.
“And I could help prevent that!” Meg yelled back. “I want to see what’s out there! See what I can do!”
“We moved here so that you could study in safety!”
“And I’m grateful, so very grateful. But the time for staying safe is passing. You have taught me how to defend myself, father. Have faith in your instruction! I can do this! I’ll be fine!”
“But how will you live out there in the wilds?” her mother murmured. “Where will you get food. You’re no hunter.”
Meg sat down across from her mother. “No, I’m not a hunter. But I’m a decent tailor, you’ve both taught me well there, too. Even people in the wilds need clothes. So, we’ll trade or something.” She smiled gently to soften her words. “I’m grown now, no longer your little Megly. I need to use the magic. I want to do some good with it. And there’s nothing here for me to do with it but play with it.”
Elethia bowed her head in resignation. Norwyn slammed the door behind him as he stormed out. Meg sighed again.
Elethia reached over and patted her daughter’s arm. “I’ll speak with him.” Meg nodded.
~ ~ ~
Meg looked back at the city again. She and her father had not spoken since she had mentioned her plans. She had hardly even seen him since that day. Her horse shifted its feet, as if anxious to get going. But something told her to wait just a little longer.
Then she saw the familiar figure of her mother hurrying toward her down the hill from the city gates. She trotted back to meet her halfway.
Elethia handed a bundle of cloth up to Meg. “Be well, my Meg.” Then she hurried back toward the city, but not before Meg had seen the tears on her cheeks. Her own eyes stung with unshed tears.
Meg unrolled the cloth. A fine new cloak! Her mother’s hand in its design was obvious. And something hard fell into her lap from the middle of the bundle. A dagger! In a plain, but obviously new sheath. She unsheathed it and whistled softly. Even to her relatively inexperienced eyes, it looked exceptional. Probably Dwarven-made and obviously expensive. And the tingle in her fingers told her that it even had a slight enchantment on it.
She looked back toward the city and saw her father meet her mother at the gates and drape an arm over her shoulder. He waved to Meg. She waved back, then watched as they returned to the safety of the city.
She turned her horse’s head and started down the road, a contented smile on her lips.
Some time later.
Near Darkshire, Meglynn sank to the ground, exhausted and chilled. She glared over the edge of the hill at The Tranquil Gardens Cemetery, a place that was anything but! Who knew that undead skeletons would be so difficult to fight? While her spells did do some damage, it wasn’t as much as she had expected. And their attacks kept interrupting her casting. And hurt!
Meg drank a potion that provided some relief for her pain, but did nothing for her fatigue. She wasn’t sure that she could cast another spell anytime soon, even if the whole blasted cemetery of skeletons charged over her hill. Sighing in resignation, she pulled some linen cloth from her pack and began the job of bandaging her wounds.
A healing magic washed over her, erasing the last of her hurts, as a shadow fell across her. She looked up, then stared. So this was a Daenei.
He gave her a gentle smile as he sat next to her. “That should help.”
Meg nodded. “Thanks.” She noted his battle-scarred armor and weapons. He looked like a warrior, but with the healing he had done, he must be a paladin. Interesting.
“Those skeletons are tougher than I had thought,” she added, nodding in the direction of the cemetery. She drank some melon juice from her pack and started to feel more spell-capable again. She offered him some, too, but he shook his head no.
“Would you care to join forces against them?” he asked. “We could be an effective team.”
She did not even have to think about that. “Yes. Oh, and my name is Meglynn.”
He nodded a greeting. “I am Gilgamei.”
Not so long ago.
Meglynn dashed through the streets of Stormwind, anxiously searching for her family, missing from their homes. The Scourge had dared to attack even here and the streets were a mess of confusion, terrified citizens, soldiers, and of course, the bodies. And the plague. She could smell its putrescence faintly, a familiar smell from the Plaguelands. Having just returned from there, she knew the smell all too well.
She dodged around another knot of fighting soldiers and ghouls and spotted the crowd at the Cathedral. Perhaps there. She hurried to the barricade and was quickly passed through by a Knight of the Silver Hand. Perhaps he recognized the Argent Dawn Commission that she still wore. He payed her little attention, though, as several people behind her needed healing.
Inside the Cathedral, many of the civilians of the city had gathered. They milled around randomly, most with that dazed look of the survivors of horror. Meg spotted her father standing further inside and made her way to him. His appearance shocked her, deeper lines in his face than she remembered and hair now completely white. It saddened her to think that she was not sure whether he had looked this old the last time she had visited. He turned and his eyes met hers. Something in his gaze alarmed Meg. Then she had reached him and he grabbed her arm hard enough to hurt.
“Where were you?” he demanded.
“What?”
“Where were you when this happened? When they…she…” He fell silent and looked away, but his grip tightened even further.
Meg looked around, suddenly frantic. “Mother?” she said in a small voice.
Her father tried to turn away further, but she gripped his arm in a gesture mirroring his own. “What happened? Where is she? Did the Scourge…” She found she could not continue that thought.
He turned back to her then, his features distorted in anger. “No, the Scourge didn’t! But no thanks to you! The Scarlets saw to it that she is at least properly dead. And where were you? You should have been here! At least the Scarlets are here. They know how to deal with these Scourge.”
Meg bowed her head. She should have been here, as he said. She answered softly. “The Scourge are attacking all over. I’ve been fighting them in Tanaris…the Plaguelands…”
He roughly grabbed her chin and tilted her head back to look into her eyes. His own eyes had a crazed look to them. “The Plaguelands? You could have brought it back with you! The Scarlets will see you clean of it.” He started to pull her toward one of the side passages, but she pulled back, halting their progress.
“What about the Silver Hand. They wouldn’t have let me through…”
“They’re too soft!” he interrupted her. “The Scarlets have shown how to deal with this evil that corrupts our people and infects our land. They will be the ones to save us all, to eliminate those who are plagued. Why, Mat is even looking to join them. They can use a good blacksmith, and your brother will learn to fight, too. They’d probably welcome you, too. If you aren’t plagued. Come.”
Meg pulled against him again and this time broke free. She felt cold at the unexpected danger she had found here. The lie came surprisingly easy. “The Scarlets at Tyr’s Hand already cleared me. You don’t think they’d let anyone return to clean lands who hadn’t been cleared?”
Her father stared into her eyes for a moment, then nodded. “Of course. I didn’t raise any stupid kids. You should come pay your respects to Brother Crowley here in the Cathedral.”
Meg cringed at the madness she could see in his eyes, the same fanatical madness she had seen before when she and Gil had confronted the Scarlet Crusade in their monastery. She kept her expression carefully bland as she nodded and gave him another lie. “Of course. But first, father, I must complete my mission for Tyr’s Hand. Tell Mat hello for me. And I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He nodded.
One thing she had learned over the years was that sometimes it was time to flee. This felt like one of those times. She moved away from him as quickly as she dared. Back into the carnage-filled streets, back to what had been her home. She quickly grabbed a few things, items that were important to her that she could carry easily, including one small painting of the family from happier times. She looked around one last time, then opened a portal, barely able to control her trembling enough to mold the magic correctly.
“Good bye, mother,” she whispered. She stepped through the portal.