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Khadgar stared out the window watching the battle preparations that were under way, completely forgetting that Lord Maxwell Tyrosus was speaking to him. Seeing that Khadgar was not paying attention to him, Lord Maxwell glanced out the window to see what the other man was looking at. At once he saw the reason for the archmage’s distraction.
“When are you going to tell her?”
“Huh?” Khadgar turned from the window towards Lord Maxwell, only just now hearing what the paladin was saying.
“I said, when are you going to tell her?”
“Tell who?”
Lord Maxwell arched an eyebrow at the other man. “You know damn well who I’m talking about. The priestess, Ashandrah. You two dance circles around each other but neither will take the step forward to do anything about it.”
Khadgar blushed at Lord Maxwell’s abruptness and scratched at his head. “That obvious, huh?”
“You’d have to be blind not to see it, Khadgar. Just tell her how you feel man!”
Khadgar waved a hand at the other, taking one last look out the window before turning away and pacing to the other side of the room.
“The time...the time is just not right, Maxwell. We both have much to do with our orders for the war. Maybe, when things quiet down a bit I’ll tell her.” He fingered the maps on the table in the center of the room. “We should get back to the planning,” he mumbled.
Lord Maxwell watched Khadgar shuffle the maps around on the table and then approached him, putting a gentle hand on the other man’s shoulder to get his attention. “Khadgar, listen to me, the time is always right to tell someone you love them. We have no idea how long this war will last, or what tomorrow will bring. Don’t wait until it is too late.”
The two men stared at each other and Khadgar was the first to break eye contact. He shifted his eyes back down to the table.
“I’ll take your words into consideration, Maxwell, thank you.”
With a barely audible sigh, Lord Maxwell removed his hand from the archmage’s shoulder, shaking his head and turned his attention back to the maps on the table.
For much of the rest of the day Khadgar milled around the grounds at Light’s Hope Chapel. He barely took notice of what was going on around him as Lord Maxwell’s words repeated in his head. There were many times he wanted to tell Ashandrah how he felt about her but every time he had the chance something inside prevented him. Was it fear? He had gone much of his life alone, dedicating his life to the people of Azeroth, not really giving much thought to sharing it with another person.
That is until the day she walked into the garrison at Lunarfall on Draenor to tend to the wounded that had been brought in. She had caught his attention immediately. He would dare say it was love at first sight. The way the light played off her hair, such a pale blonde it was almost white, and the way she moved about the injured...
“Ho, archmage! Watch where you’re going, we wouldn’t want you getting trampled by the horses.”
Khadgar broke out of his reverie to realize he had almost stepped in from of a supply caravan heading out. “My apologies, taskmaster, my thoughts were somewhere else for a moment. Where are you headed?”
“To Northpass Tower,” the taskmaster replied.
“Northpass. There’s been lots of fighting there.”
“Aye, and lots of people needing healing.”
“Well, don’t let me hold you up. Safe travels to you.”
“Much appreciated archmage,” replied the taskmaster rejoining the outgoing supply caravan.
Khadgar moved aside and watched them as they headed out.
“Khadgar?”
Her voice caught his attention. “Ashandrah!” She was sitting atop a grey mare, saddlebags bulging with healing supplies. He looked at her with concern. “Are you heading out with the supply caravan?”
“Yes, they are in desperate need of supplies and healers at Northpass,” she responded.
“But, that is a very dangerous area right now.”
Ashandrah noted the look of concern on his face and wished she could reach out and touch it, to smooth it away. “I know, but I go where I am needed.”
But I need you! His mind screamed at him.
“Let’s keep moving people, Northpass is waiting!” yelled the taskmaster, making sure the caravan headed out promptly.
“I’ve got to go Khadgar,” Ashandrah said as she reluctantly urged her horse forward.
She had almost finished going past him when he called out.
“Ashandrah!”
She turned around atop her horse and looked at him.
He wanted to tell her how he felt but couldn’t get the words out. Instead all he could say was, “Please be careful.”
Ashandrah smiled back at him and nodded, “I will.” Then turning back around, she headed out the gate with the rest of the supply caravan.
Lord Maxwell Tyrosus and his men huddled around the war table, pouring over maps and the latest intelligence reports. The Eastern Plaguelands were being hit hard. It was bad enough they had to deal with the lingering threat of rogue scourge but now they also had to fight off a Legion invasion force. At first they had wondered why the Legion would even bother invading the already blighted lands, but it soon became clear that they were doing so to strike out against the paladins of the new Order of the Silver Hand. Lord Maxwell listened as each of his men around the table in turn gave the report for the sector they were in charge of. Most were holding their own, requesting only meager supplies.
“What of Northpass Tower?” Lord Maxwell asked the paladin in charge of that sector. Northpass Tower was the closest of the Argent Dawn towers to the scourge menace and also the area the Legion forces had decided to attack first. They were taking battle from both sides.
“Taking a beating sir. They are requesting more reinforcements and also ask when we are going to be sending a supply caravan to them. They are in bad need of healers,” replied the paladin in charge.
Lord Maxwell looked up from the map at the man. “We sent a supply caravan out to them three days ago. It should have reached them no later than yesterday morning.”
Khadgar stepped out of the shadows where he had been quietly listening in. “The caravan never reached Northpass?” he asked, his face white with concern.
“No archmage,” replied the paladin.
Khadgar bolted for the door, Lord Maxwell right behind him. When he got outside a hand on his arm stopped him and turned him around.
“Khadgar?”
“Maxwell, Ashandrah was in that caravan. I have to, have to…”
Lord Maxwell saw the pained looked on the archmage’s face. He let go of Khadgar’s arm and waved him off. “Go, go!”
In a flash, Khadgar used the Greatstaff of Atiesh to turn into a raven and quickly winged away to the north, following the path the caravan had taken.
Lord Maxwell watched as the archmage departed. He prayed to the Light that his words to Khadgar the other day wouldn’t be true, that it wasn’t already too late.
Khadgar returned late the next day, exhausted and looking haggard. He ignored all the stares he got at his appearance and went straight for his room. He was standing at the washbasin when there was a knock on the door followed by Lord Maxwell’s voice as he poked his head in.
“May I come in?”
Khadgar motioned for the man to enter but remained silent, leaning on his hands, head bowed over the basin. Lord Maxwell took a seat in a chair at a nearby table and waited for the archmage to speak.
“I looked everywhere Maxwell. I found the caravan, or what was left of it. I even found her horse. But I couldn’t find her. There were so many bodies, all charred beyond recognition. Not scourge work, no, this was the Legion.”
He paused and looked up at himself in the mirror. “I... I didn’t tell her Maxwell. I had the chance when she was leaving and I didn’t tell her.”
Lord Maxwell didn’t say anything. The last thing Khadgar needed was someone telling him they told him so. He watched as Khadgar turned towards him and took a seat across from him at the small table in the corner. He placed a bottle of mana juice on the table and Khadgar looked up at him.
“Got anything stronger than that?”
“I might,” replied Lord Maxwell, placing a large bottle of dwarven ale on the table. He let Khadgar have the first pull from the bottle before taking one of his own. Again he waited for the other man to speak first.
“Did I ever tell you about how we met?”
“No, I don’t think you have,” replied Lord Maxwell.
Khadgar took another pull from the bottle.
“I was at the Lunarfall garrison on Draenor advising King Varian Wrynn, the Light bless him. He had ordered the wounded from the latest Shadowmoon orc invasion to be brought to the town hall to give the healers room to work. I was in the middle of explaining something to the king, I cannot remember what, when she walked in. I stopped in the middle of a sentence when I saw her; she took my breath away. No one had ever affected me like that. I watched her as she tended to the wounded, fascinated by her every move. The king had moved on to speak to someone else and I was left standing alone. She needed an extra pair of hands and asked me if I could help, seeing as I wasn’t busy. Of course I said yes. I helped her long after I really needed to. She could have dismissed me at any time but she didn’t, she let me help her with one patient after another. It was then that I realized that she enjoyed my presence. After that we would keep running into each other, some of it my doing and at other times hers. But as much as it was clear we liked each other neither of us would come out and say it.”
He paused and took another pull of the dwarven ale. “I think she was a bit old fashioned, waiting for me to make a move. And I waited too long.” Khadgar rolled the bottle back and forth between his hands while staring at the table. “I should have listened to you, Maxwell.”
“You can’t beat yourself up over that, Khadgar.”
“Can’t I?” Khadgar looked up at the paladin, tears in his eyes.
“It’ll serve no purpose but to eat away at you if you do. Is that what you want? Is that what Ashandrah would want you to do?”
Khadgar looked back at Lord Maxwell and closed his eyes as he shook his head. “No. No, she wouldn’t want that.”
“She was a servant of the Light, Khadgar, and the Light doesn’t forsake its own. Take some comfort in knowing that she is now one with it.” He watched as the other man bowed his head and nodded, a soft sob escaping his lips.
Lord Maxwell rose and placed a hand on Khadgar’s shoulder. “Take as much time as you need my friend. Send for me if you need someone to talk to, no matter what the hour, I’ll be there.”
“Thank you, Maxwell,” Khadagar said quietly as the tears started to flow.
It was mid morning two days later when Lord Maxwell finally saw Khadgar emerge from his room. The archmage looked a bit worse for wear but resolved. He dismissed his men so the two of them could have a moment to talk alone.
“Khadgar, how are you doing?” Lord Maxwell asked his friend and motioned to a seat at the table. He set a mug of cool liquid down in front of the other man as he sat down.
“Not more dwarven ale, I hope. I forgot how hard that stuff hits,” Khadgar said sitting down at the table and rubbing his head.
“No, just juice,” smiled Lord Maxwell.
Khadgar lifted the mug to his lips and took a sip, feeling a bit revived. “Thank you, and not just for the juice. I was...in an unfamiliar place that night. Thank you for spending some time and talking with me.”
Lord Maxwell gripped the other man’s shoulder. “It’s what friends are for Khadgar.”
They sat a few minutes in silence, Khadgar slowly finishing the mug of juice, before Lord Maxwell spoke again.
“What are your plans now? Will you stay, go back to Dalaran, or go elsewhere?” Lord Maxwell had figured out long ago that wherever the priestess Ashandrah was at, Khadgar could be found not far behind, and knew her being here was the real reason the archmage had been at Light’s Hope Chapel.
Khadgar sighed and toyed with the mug in his hands. “Part of me wants to return to Dalaran, but that would be running away from what happened, and I know that no matter how far or long you run, what you are running from always has a way of catching up with you.”
He paused and looked up at his friend. “I’ll stay, Maxwell. You need the help and it would be honoring Ashandrah if I was able to do so.”
Lord Maxwell nodded and smiled. “Wise words, my friend, and we could certainly use your help.” He was about to say more when there was noise from outside. Both he and Khadgar rose and went to see what the commotion was about.
When they walked outside there were people dashing here and there and paladins running for the north gate. One paladin came running up to the two men.
“My Lord, there are survivors from the caravan!”
“Survivors!” Khadgar exclaimed.
“How many?” asked Lord Maxwell.
“Only five, sir.”
“Five, out of twenty. Well, even one survivor is a blessing. Let’s get down there and find out what happened.”
The paladin ran ahead and before Khadgar could follow, Lord Maxwell stopped him. “Khadgar, I know what you’re thinking. While I hope she’s one of them, be prepared for the worst.”
Khadgar nodded. “I know,” he replied grim faced.
The men made their way to the gate where they could see a lone battle-weary paladin and four other survivors. The survivors were all disheveled and clearly in need of nourishment and medical aid. Healers started to come forward to help tend to them. The paladin was supporting one of the survivors and when he stumbled trying to keep them both upright the movement of pale ash blonde hair caught Khadgar’s attention.
“Ashandrah!” he exclaimed, rushing forward, carefully wrapping an arm about her allowing the paladin to let go.
His burden released, the paladin started to fall but Lord Maxwell quickly moved to support him. “What happened son?” he asked, getting one of the paladin’s arms around his shoulder.
“We were ambushed, sir. Came out of nowhere. Legion forces. They must have known we would send aid eventually and were waiting for us. The five of us are all that managed to escape, and barely.”
The paladin looked over to where Khadgar was kneeling with a limp Ashandrah in his arms and called out to the archmage. “She needs some health and mana pots. She gave me all of hers so I could continue to fight to protect them. She shielded and healed us until she ran herself dry.”
Khadgar smoothed the hair back from Ashandrah’s face and reached into the pouch at his belt retrieving a bottle each of health and mana potions. With his thumb he uncorked one and pressed it to her lips.
“Ashandrah, drink this, it will help you recover.”
Her lips parted slightly and Khadgar carefully poured a little of the potion in at a time until it was gone. She started to respond within seconds, the color coming back to her face and her eyes fluttering open.
“Khadgar?”
“Shhh, drink this other one first.” He uncorked the second potion bottle and set it to her lips until she had emptied that one as well.
Warmth flooded through her as the second potion rushed through her body. She struggled to sit up and Khadgar helped, keeping an arm about her for support.
Ashandrah looked around. “We made it,” she sighed.
“Yes, yes you made it,” Khadgar replied. He could feel tears threatening and looked away.
Lord Maxwell could see that this was emotional for Khadgar and suggested to those around that they get all the survivors inside and cared for. He helped the paladin he was supporting move forward but not before he paused by Khadgar getting the archmage’s attention.
“She should rest some place quiet, Khadgar.”
The archmage looked up and understood what Lord Maxwell was suggesting.
“Can you stand?” Khadgar asked Ashandrah.
“I think so.” She slowly stood up and immediately started to sway.
Khadgar wrapped an arm about her waist and gently pulled her to him. “Here, lean on me.”
She did so, wrapping an arm about him as well. “Thank you,” she replied. “Guess I need more time to recover.”
“I’ll get you to a quiet place and then you can rest more.”
They slowly made their way inside the chapel and to the living quarters in the one wing. Khadgar opened the door to his quarters and helped Ashandrah inside and over to the bed.
“Lie down and rest. I’ll get some food and drink and more potions for you.”
He waited until she lay back against the pillows and then left returning a short time later, arms laden with food, a jug of mana wine and several small bottles of health and mana potions. Carefully he set the items out on the small table in the corner. Ashandrah made to get up but he waved a hand at her stopping her.
“No, no! Stay there, I’ll bring some over to you.”
Ashandrah leaned back against the pillows again and watched him from across the room. There was something different about him. The light coming in the window caught his face and she could see the silver shadow of stubble across his jaw indicating that he had not shaven recently. She watched as he put a selection of foods on a plate and poured some of the mana wine in a cup before turning back towards her. As he came closer she noted there were dark circles under his eyes as well.
Khadgar placed the food and cup on the small side table next to the bed. He picked up a fork and knife and started to cut up the meat on the plate when Ashandrah’s hand on his arm made him stop.
“Khadgar?”
Setting the knife and fork down he turned to look at her. Her eyes were studying his face, faint concern written in the small frown of her brow. He took her hand and sat down on the edge of the bed and saw the question in her eyes.
“I... I thought you gone, forever. When we got word that the caravan did not reach Northpass I immediately went out to search for you. I found what was left of the caravan and all the bodies and I thought the worst.”
“Khadgar, it’s -,” she started to speak but he stopped her.
“No, wait, there is more I need to say. Something I should have and wanted to say to you before you left and I didn’t. I don’t want the chance to slip away again.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. “Ashandrah, I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you. I wanted to wait until the time was right to tell you and because I waited I almost lost that chance forever.”
She looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears. Reaching up a hand she touched his face, the rough stubble course against her palm. “Oh Khadgar, I love you too.”
Khadgar felt like a massive weight had been lifted off of him after hearing his words returned. He reached out a hand to gently caress her cheek before leaning in to kiss her. He could taste the salt of her tears as they spilled down her cheeks, or were they his own, he could not tell. From that moment forward Khadgar vowed never again to wait for a perfect moment to tell Ashandrah he loved her.