Now - Thrall nodded, understanding it all. Of course. Air—the element of clarity of thought, of inspiration, insight, and fresh starts. He had begun again with Cairne when the orcs had arrived on Kalimdor, and had forged a tentative peace with Jaina Proudmoore. All with words, and careful thought. Attributes that some did not expect to find in ores, but which Thrall had cultivated all his life—from his youngest days devouring books to this moment, where he had made a difficult decision to leave his world and come here, to Outland, to Nagrand.
He smiled a little, and as the scene began to fade, he let it go easily. Because he knew that with Air, there would always be something new to come, to challenge and inspire him.
He stayed, in the strange being - not - being place, with Aggra in spirit wolf form, waiting either for the fifth element, the elusive spark that enabled the shaman to connect with the other elements, to manifest, or for some sign to be given that would aid him. The time passed, but nothing happened. Thrall began to feel agitated. Finally he turned to Aggra, confused. His voice echoed in the not - place. "Will I be able to save Azeroth? The Horde?"
The mist cleared suddenly. Thrall saw himself wearing the black armor that Orgrim Doomhammer had bequeathed him as leader of the Horde. He carried that late orc’s great weapon, looking every inch the warrior. But there was fear on his green face—fear, and a terrible sense of loss. The Doomhammer split into several chunks, each piece hurtling away as if it had been fired from a gun. The armor cracked and fell off, and Thrall fell to his knees, clad only in what he wore now—the simple brown robe of an initiate.
"No," Thrall breathed. And that quickly, he was awake. He found himself staring up into a dark - skinned orcish face bending over his, with gorgeous paint, kind eyes, and wide, smiling lips curving over two small, sharp tusks. He reached and gripped her arm.
"Aggra, I failed! Or, rather, I'm going to! They showed—"
"Shh," she soothed, shaking her head, calm in the face of his panic. "They showed you an image. It is up to you to decide what it means."
He started to get to his feet, then caught himself, dizzy. Gently she eased him into a sitting position. "It seemed clear enough to me."
"I saw it, too," she said. "And trust me when I say that the clearest visions are often the most confusing. But—there is a way to find clarity. I think you are ready to see the Furies. You have completed the vision quest. You realize that you have integrated the elements within you now. You are ready."
"They will help me understand the vision at the end?"
She shrugged. "Maybe not. It certainly couldn't hurt, now, could it?"
He found himself smiling. Her tongue - in - cheek brusqueness was exactly what he needed.
"When?"
"Tomorrow," Aggra said. "Tomorrow."
Twenty six
Thrall was surprised that the Throne of the Elements was so easily accessible, and so close to Garadar. It was but a short run across Skysong Lake to a small island nestled against the mountains. As they drew closer, he saw moss - covered standing stones arranged in a pattern.
"Why are the Furies so close?" he asked Aggra as they ran.
She gave him a wry smile, but her eyes had more mischief than anger in them as she replied, "If you were a giant embodiment of an elemental force, would you be worried by anyone disturbing you?"
Caught off guard, Thrall laughed, a short, amused bark. Aggra's smile widened. "There are members of the Earthen Ring there who make certain that the Furies are not bothered by trivialities. Only those who have need of their wisdom or who are sincere in offering their aid may speak with them. Even so, it is just a courtesy. The Furies can certainly handle themselves."
They left the lake, and their feet now trod upon marshy soil.
And suddenly, there they were.
Four mammoth beings, resembling the smaller incarnations of the elements with which Thrall had worked for so long, moved slowly about. They were tempestuous, wild, and powerful. Even at a distance he could sense their tremendous strength. No, these beings certainly did not have to be concerned if anyone irritated them.
Speaking in a soft, reverent voice, Aggra identified each one. "Gordawg, Fury of Earth. Aborius, Fury of Water. Incineratus, Fury of Fire. And Kalandrios, Fury of Air. If anyone or anything in this land can help you, Go'el," said Aggra, her voice quietly sincere, "it is these beings. Go. Introduce yourself. Ask them your questions."
For a moment Thrall was catapulted back in time to his first encounter with the elements. One by one, the spirits of each element had come to him, spoken in his mind and heart. Now, in a similar fashion, they might do so again. Which to approach first? He chose Kalandrios, Fury of Air, and began moving fonvard.
Almost immediately he felt that being's power buffet him. He stumbled, the intense wind nearly knocking him off his feet, but pressed onward, lowering his head against the whirling air.
The great Fun looked to him like a living cyclone with strong arms and glowing red eyes. At first Kalandrios ignored him, and then Thrall planted himself against the wind, heavy with sand and leaves that threatened to scour his skin, closed his eyes, and reached out with his mind, as he had been taught.
Kalandrios, Fury of Air… I have come a long way to ask your aid. I come from a land that is deeply troubled, but I know not why it suffers. I ask for its aid, and it does not reply to me. On my vision quest, I saw myself unable to save my land. You, who hear the cries of Air here in Outland—can you aid me? Is this vision true and unalterable?
Kalandrios turned his red eyes upon him, and Thrall felt the power of that direct gaze. He spoke, but in Thrall's mind.
What care I for the trials of Air in another land? My own essences suffer here. Air rules the power of thought, Go'el, known as Thrall, son ofDurotan and Draka. You are a powerful shaman, for me to even hear your plea.
The best I can offer you is to think, and listen. Think on what you saw on your quest. More, I cannot give.
And Kalandrios moved off again, unable to give him any insight. Thrall felt disappointment well up inside him but tamped it down. It would not serve him to grow angry at the Furies. If Kalandrios could have helped, Thrall believed that he would have. Still, he could not shake the notion that there was a flaw in Kalandrios's argument.
He glanced back over at Aggra and shook his head. The Furies were speaking only in his heart; she had not heard Kalandrios. Once, she would have smirked at his failure, he knew. Now he saw her strong face fill with consternation. He moved on to the next Fun.
This was Incineratus, Fun of Fire, and as Thrall approached, the heat roiled off the mighty being with such intensity that Thrall was forced to turn his head and shield his face with his arms. How was he to approach such a being, if doing so would burn the flesh from his bones?
The knowledge came to him gently. Ignoring the painful heat of the Fun's fire, he reached for calmness within himself—from the element of the Spirit of Life he carried inside. He calmed himself, soothed his roiling thoughts, and visualized his skin whole, cool, able to withstand even the mighty Fury's heat. He turned around to face Incineratus, opened his eyes… and the heat abated. Now Thrall could move forward and did so, kneeling before the Fury of Fire and repeating his request.
Incineratus turned his full attention upon the ore, and even with his newfound stability, Thrall was forced to close his eyes against the heat the being radiated as he moved to but a few feet in front of him. His throat felt seared as he inhaled, but he did not move away. He was strong enough to speak with this being; he would not be harmed.
I am angry for what you say to me, the Fury of Fire said in his mind. I am angry that my own kindlings suffer here, and I regret more than you can possibly comprehend that I cannot aid you. Without some essence of Fire from this place, how can I speak with the fires that burn there? How can I know why they suffer and leap in torment, shaman? It is your land, your observations. I feel your passion for your cause, and I grant you my own—the passion to do whatever is necessary so that your world may heal. More, I cannot do.