** DOUBLE AWARD WINNER IN THE PROSE FICTION AWARDS 2017**
Imagine finding yourself in Azeroth for real, a parallel universe of the game World of Warcraft and knowing of certain events about to occur. What would you do? Who would you trust? And would...
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Her head spun with the sudden extraction from the throne room. Her eyes were wide and she wobbled on the spot, nausea building. The Archmage gripped her upper arms, holding her steady. "You will be alright," he said flatly. "First time through a portal I take it?"
She took a moment to answer. "Well, unless it accounts for how I arrived in Azeroth, I – I guess so."
"Hmm," he muttered. He waited just long enough to establish she wasn't going to collapse then abruptly released her, leaving her to steady herself while he moved through to another room.
The light-headedness and nausea abated soon after. Her breathing still a little heavy, she looked up and took in her surroundings.
She found herself in a large spacious room with a violet hue to the stone walls. It was quite refined with its soft furnishings of purples, blues and greens. Sideboards and tables were of a golden grained wood, all dusted and polished.
Few ornaments were present other than a couple of large vases filled with beautifully scented flowers which she inhaled deeply. Paintings of beautiful landscapes graced the walls and ornate light fittings were positioned in between.
This was indeed a tasteful and rather lavish abode. She ventured across the room to investigate more. Voiles in keeping with the colour scheme of the upholstery, rippled softly on a light breeze from the open glass bay doors that led to the balcony.
The stone balustrades curved gently round the exterior of the room supporting a low wall overlooking the streets and gardens below. It all had a vaguely familiar feel about it but before she could work it out, Khadgar strode towards her, two goblets in hand. He thrust one in front of her, "Drink," he said simply.
She expected it to be just water considering her mammoth intake of Dwarven Ale the night before. Looking into the goblet she discovered it was a red wine. This could be asking for trouble, she thought. She could still feel the dregs of last night's consumption flowing through her veins.
