Bidding farewell to Hermione, Ron and Harry along with the rest of their party departed Telador and headed through the swamp.
"We've decided that there khorium is just the wrong material," Hermione told them before leaving. "We need something new for the Thought Outsourcer. Maybe one of the more exotic metals."
"I've heard tell of a metal with very interesting properties on Azeroth," K Lee said. "But it can only be found in one place: Northrend. Dangerous, but likely worth the effort!"
"What's the point of that thing anyway?" Ron demanded. "Yeh can't just go around takin' over folks minds."
Hermione and the gnomes blinked. "Well, I mean, the point is mostly to build it," Hermione said. "To prove that the concept is possible."
"Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should," Harry told her. "Walk in the Light, Hermione. Consorting with demons and taking over peoples minds, it just isn't right. They're not just mindless toys you can play with."
"Mindless….hmmm," Hermione mused. "Thank you, Harry. Perhaps we should conduct a survey to determine what the purpose of our science should be."
"What, like a social science?" Wilfred asked. "That's hardly gnomish at all."
"What if it was social explosiveering?" K Lee asked. "Our experiments do involve a lot of explosions."
Wincing, Harry and Ron left, hoping that their friend wouldn't do anything too awful while they were gone.
The journey through the swamp was hazardous, with bogstriders looming out of the mists to try to snatch a rider from their elekk, and marshlighters and neither rays attacking the gryphon riders. Once, as they were making their way through a stagnant pool, Harry heard an unearthly wail, and a tendril swung out of the mists, knocking him into the water. He came up sputtering, only to have another tendril snap out at him. He drew his sword and swung at it, but was buffeted away, slamming into a large mushroom.
From behind him, Harry heard Impa let out shriek as the bogstrider appeared from the mists, its tentacles reaching for her. Without thinking, Harry called upon the Song of the Naaru, and the Light filled him. He extended a hand towards Impa, and suddenly a shimmering barrier surrounded her. The tentacles rebounded off of the shield, giving Impa enough time to leap off of her saddle, a her hammer in a two handed grip. She glowed with lightning, slamming into the bogstrider with a boom of thunder. The beast reeled back, and Harry managed to surge forward, swinging his sword in an overhand blow and infusing it with the Light.
The creature wailed again, falling back, as Harry and Impa took up defensive stances.
Then from on high, there was a loud scream of rage, and Ron on Sharpbeak plummeted from the mushroom tops, a gout of flame leaping from Ron's hands onto the beast. Sharptalon's claws raked at it's eye stalks, then the two were gone again in a flurry of wings.
In pain and confused, the bogstrider retreated as the other Vindicators hurried forward, shouting and waving their weapons. As suddenly as it had arrived, the creature vanished back into the mists, leaving behind only a charred twitching tentacle.
"Alright?" Harry gasped, looking to Impa and clutching his bruised ribs.
She nodded, flashing a quick grin. "Thanks for that. I didn't even see it coming. Here, let me help with your wounds."
Water flowed up from the ground into Impa's hands, shuffling off the muck and slime and glowing a pure blue. Impa directed it onto Harry's wounds, and the water soothed away the pain, knitting the bone and repairing the muscle.
"Thanks," Harry sighed, straightening and looking to his elekk. The beast was frightened, but it hadn't suffered more than a few scrapes, which Harry was able to mend easily enough.
A moment later Ron and Mylra landed, their weapons glowing with fire and thunder.
"The beastie's gone for now," Ron said. "Sorry about that, Harry. Didn't even see the bastard coming."
"It's alright, no harm done," Harry assured Ron. "You drove it off with that dive of yours. I'm surprised you could see it at all in this mist."
"Are we well?" Maraad asked, riding up on his elekk, his hammer in his hands.
"Yes, Vindicator," Harry said. He and Impa remounted. "Let's get out of here."
The next day they arrived in Nagrand without further incident. Unlike Zangamarsh or Hellfire Peninsula, Nagrand could almost be mistaken for a normal place. There were rolling plains of grass, stands of trees with narrow leaves, and winding canyons that looked similar to the african savanna. Until you saw the floating rocks spewing forth an endless stream of water, that is.
"How do they not run out of water?" Harry asked Impa, frowning up at the water that continued to fall.
Impa shrugged. "I sense water spirits within them. They must call forth the water from the elemental plane."
"Neat trick, that," Ron observed, nodding up at the waterfall. "Be useful for an army."
"Aye, a shaman can keep a whole regiment supplied with clean water," Mylra said. "It's one reason the Aerie can never fall to a siege."
The party made their way along a winding, dusty road, passing by herds of clefthoof and talbuk, and the occasional wandering elekk. Harry also saw a large number of elementals wandering the landscape, from swirling dust devils that crackled with thunder, to wandering piles of rock that shook and raged.
"The elements of this place are still unbalanced," Ron told him that night, as they sat around a campfire. "So much destruction has been wrought here. This world, it's dying, or already dead perhaps."
"I heard it was destroyed by demons and fel magic," Harry said with a shudder. "I can still sense it sometimes. I hope this conclave can help restore balance of a kind."
"I don't know. I'm more here to observe and learn then do anything really special. Mylra knows more about that," Ron said.
That night, Harry lay awake long hours, gazing at the other worlds that could be seen in the sky, along with the twisting nether that swirled like the aurora borealis.
"Hey, what are you thinking about," Impa whispered, poking him in the side.
"Just wondering why I'm here, I suppose," Harry answered, turning his head to look at Impa, who had crawled half out of the tent to lay beside him. "I mean, not coming to the conclave, I know I'm here to learn the ways of the Vindicar. I mean, why did I arrive in Azeroth? Ron wants to go home, I know, but I don't."
"You've never really talked about where you were from," Impa mused, plucking a tuft of grass and running it through her fingers. "But do you miss your home so little? I suppose I wouldn't wish to live here on Draenor any longer, but I am glad I got to visit."
Harry let out a long sigh. "You already know I'm an orphan. I lived with my relatives, but they didn't care much for me. Hogwarts was great, Ron and Hermione were my first real friends. But the Exodar is so much more. Everyone there lives and walks in the Light. The peace, the joy, the love, it's so beyond what I had on Earth."
"Hmmm," Impa said, dropping her blade of grass and drawing odd doodles in the earth.
"Plus, there's you," Harry said, grinning at Impa.
She froze, then eyed Harry. "What do you mean, me?"
"Well, I mean, Ron will always be my best mate I think, but you're a good friend too. I think I'd miss you more than anyone on Earth if I had to leave for some reason."
Impa glared at Harry, using her tail to poke him in the leg. "Oh, and what if Ron left? Would you go galavanting off with him back to Earth since he's your 'best mate' and all that. Honestly. I didn't even know humans mated like that."
"I...what?" Harry looked at Impa puzzled. "That's not what a best mate is."
"Then perhaps human reproduction is rather different than I thought, because for draenei, only men and women can mate," Impa sniffed. "And to think...bah. Never mind." She turned to wiggled back into the tent, but Harry sat up and put his hand on her shoulder.
"You think...me and Ron?" he started laughing, having to put a hand over his mouth to keep the noise down.
"Obviously, that is what you have been saying, yes?" Impa said, sitting up herself and glaring at Harry, her eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.
"That's not what...look, a best mate is just someone who always has your back. It's two blokes who are always there for each other. But they don't...mate. Humans work the same as draenei. You've got your mates, your friends, your best mates, that are your close friends, and your girlfriend or wife. I think...I think the closest term in draenic would be rakt. You know, comrades in arms."
Impa narrowed her eyes. "So you think of Ron as a boon companion, then? Not as a mate?"
"By the Light, no!" Harry said, shaking his head. "I mean, I love Ron as a brother, but not like that."
"Than what am I to you, Harry Potter?" Impa demanded. "Are we rakt? Best mates?"
Harry hesitated. He hadn't really thought too much about his relationship with Impa. "I think...I think we are more than just friends. But I don't know. I do know I would no more want to lose you than Ron."
"Well. We are both young yet. Besides, I am not even sure myself. You are, after all, human. Good night, Harry Potter."
With that, Impa crawled back in and went to sleep, leaving a confused, and strangely excited, Harry sitting alone under the dim light of the nether.
The next day, Harry rode beside Ron a short distance away from the column as they neared Garadar, the orcish town before the Throne of Elements.
"Hey, Ron, do you, you know, like Mylra?" he asked.
"Of course. She's basically my big sister. She and ma and da, that is Douglas and Isla, took me in when I wound up in the Hinterlands," Ron said.
"That's not what I meant, though I suppose you answered my question. I meant more like, is there a girl, that, you know, you like?"
Ron frowned, looking up at Harry. "Bloody hell Harry, she's like my sister."
"I know, I know, and she's a dwarf," Harry admitted. "I suppose we should just like other humans."
Ron went very red in the face. "Well, I mean, just because she's a dwarf doesn't mean...that is, she's like a sister and but her being a dwarf doesn't have anything to do with it. Some of the lasses I've met, well, almost everyone I meet is a dwarf, but I sort of like some of them."
Harry kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead, his own face going slightly red. "So, you don't think it would be wrong to like a girl if she wasn't, you know, human?"
"Um, I don't know," Ron admitted. "I mean, back home you were thought to be really odd of yeh took up with a giant or merfolk or something but it happened. Hells, folks said Hagrid was a half giant yeh know."
"Were the giants sort of normal? I mean, did they look alright?" Harry asked, feeling very confused.
"Oh spirits no, they were ugly as an ogre and even bigger. How that would even work I don't...look, the stuff back home was different. Dwarves were ugly and twisted little things. And elves, well, I don't know who in their right mind would take up with a house elf. But, well, I've met the Farstriders and some of their lasses are very fine. But they're not really proper woman. A real fine girl would have to be able to hold her beer, and have something to her, you know? Not be all skinny like an elf. Have something you could get yer hands around, as me da says."
Ron paused, then looked up, frowning at Harry. "What makes you ask all this, then? You got your eye on someone?"
Harry very pointedly did not say anything, though his gaze wandered over to where Impa was riding beside the Farseer and Mylra, the three shamen conversing in low tones.
"Oh. Aye, she's easy on the eyes I suppose," Ron allowed. "The horns and tail are a bit odd, and the hooves, but she's not a thin little thing. She swings that bloody great hammer of hers proper like. Don't know if she can hold her drink well though."
"Impa's not some great glutton like you," Harry snapped, glaring at Ron. Then he flushed, realizing what he had said. "I mean, I don't know...we're just friends and I- look, I'm sorry I called you a glutton."
Ron laughed uproariously, causing Harry's elekk to shy away from him slightly. "Look mate, yeh can call me whatever yeh like, just don't call me late for dinner. A proper dwarf can drink all night and feast till dawn and get up and fight all day!"
"Do you want to be a proper dwarf?" Harry asked, curious.
Ron paused, then shrugged. "If I can no be a proper Weasley, I think being a proper Wildhammer will do for me. You want to be a proper draenei? I did mean what I said, blue isn't for me but she's no a sore sight to look at."
"I don't know yet," Harry admitted. "But I will walk the path of the Light, and see where it leads me."
Ron nodded. "Aye. You do that. I don't hold any personal truck with the Light, but it seems a good thing, and you paladins and such good people. I'll be glad to have you and Impa at me back any day, Harry."
That afternoon, they arrived at the lakeshore near Garadar. The orcs here eyed them suspiciously from their walls, but did not make any hostile moves. Instead of taking a boat, the four shaman cast spells of water walking upon the party, and they made their way across the lake top. It felt a bit like riding on very loose sand, but other than that Harry could hardly tell they were walking across the water.
"This is pretty cool," Harry told Impa. He searched around for a moment, trying to find the right thing to say, before settling on, "I think you're pretty brilliant. I mean, not just the spells, but the spells are nice too."
Impa turned and regarded Harry with a raised eyebrow. "I will have to ask when human males enter their moorkhata ka samay. You seem to be close to yours."
"My time of foolishness? What does that mean?" Harry asked, confused.
Impa laughed and spurred her elekk away, leaving a very confused Harry.
After an hours ride across the laketop, they arrived at the Throne of the Elements. It was similar to Stonehenge, which Harry had visited on a school trip once, but in many ways was subtly different. For one thing, it was massive, easily a hundred meters across, and the piled stones were far taller, standing over even the giant elementals that made their home there. Upon the stones, runes and pictographs glowed with inner light, some red, some green, some blue, and some white. They showed humanoid figures calling upon the elements, or wrote weird lines that Harry could not read.
They made their way along a causeway up a short hill, to where four massive elementals, each at least a dozen meters tall, were manifested upon four great thrones. One was made of fire, swirling and crackling, and above it hovered a being made of molten flame in the shape of a hunched figure. The next appeared to be made of howling winds, and over it was a cloud that seemed to have two eyes made of lighting. The next seemed to have erupted from the ground, a great boulder from the bones of the mountains upon which sat a spiky behemoth made of rock and glowing crystals. The last was a fountain, continuously spurting forth from the ground in a steady spray, another watery figure in the shape of a wave floating upon it.
Before the thrones stood Thrall, who had given up his armor for robes. About his neck was a beaded necklace, and beside him stood a brown orcish woman who bore a staff in both her hands. There were also tauren, trolls, and even ogres with Thrall, all robed and bearing various totems and icons of the elements. Mylra and Naboru made their way forward, with Impa and Ron trailing behind them. The joined the circle of the other shaman, and Thrall raised his hands into the air.
"Welcome, shaman, to the first Conclave of the Elements of the Earthen ring."
\/\/\/\/\/\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
As Ron joined the circle with the other shaman, he felt the gaze of the great elemental spirits upon their thrones. They all radiated power and strength, a wild fierceness that could not be contained. He watched the others across from him, nodding to Za'pei in greeting. The old troll was flanked by a younger female, Ron guessed was his daughter. There were also a group of tauren, and together with the orcs the Horde races outnumbered the small Alliance contingent. Ron wondered for a moment why there were so many more shaman among the other races, but quickly focused back on what Thrall was saying.
"Here, in Outland, the elements have run wild, but are calming with the defeat of Illidan and the Legion. However, back at home, the spirits are restless, disturbed. What have you seen, Farseer?"
Nobundo nodded, leaning on his cane. "Indeed, the spirits are most disturbed. Something is causing them to disturb old boundaries. At first, I thought it the arrival of the Exodar, but now I think there is something more to it. Young Impa, tell what you have seen."
Impa stepped forward, and Ron eyed the young draenei woman appraisingly. He half wondered what Harry saw in here. Sure, she was pretty, in a weird sort of way, but she had horns for the love of ale.
"I have traveled across Bloodmyst and Azuremyst in my training. All over, the elements are straining against something. Some form of corruption. Yes, the Exodar's arrival had an impact, but it is deeper. Something within Azeroth stirs, driving the spirits to madness. The waters rage, and the earthquakes, as if wounded. And I have seem more and more corrupted elementals. Many of them storm spirits, blowing in from the north."
"Dis I have seen as well," Za'pei agreed. "De spirits are restless. Storms blow in from da north full o' rage and corruption. De earth trembles as somethin' dark stirs within it. Young Ronald, what have you seen?"
Ron forced himself to stand straight. "I'm just learning about the elements myself. I don't really know what's normal. I mean, I don't even know that I'm from Azeroth really."
"Not from Azeroth?" a young tauren with a large totem on his back asked. "Are you of Outland?"
"Er, not exactly," Ron looked to Mylra, who stepped forward.
"Ronald appeared here two years ago and was taken in by the Wildhammer clan. He's from some other world, brought here by some odd spell from his world. He's still learning of the elements, and I brought him with me as my adopted brother and trainee."
"Interesting," Thrall mused, rubbing his beard as he examined Ron. "A human, from another world? Did you know the spirits there?"
"No," Ron admitted. "I was training to be a mage of sorts. I didn't hear the elements until I came to Azeroth. They seem powerful and wild to me, but I don't know if they've changed."
"Ah, yes, you are like the child taken in by the Vindicators," Nobundo agreed, nodding his head. "But surely you have noticed something?"
"Well, the storms out of the North had had a chill edge to them of late, even in summer," Ron said hesitantly. "They also have...I don't know, an odd smell to them. Like the winds out of the Plaguelands."
"That is what I feared," Thrall said with a heavy sigh. "I have spoken to Highlord Fordring, and with King Wrynn of the Alliance. They fear the Lich King is mobilising his forces. This would have disturbed the elements."
"Dat would be very bad," Za'pei muttered, tapping one of his tusks. "Dat one is trouble. If he be corruptin' da elements demselves, dis cannot be allowed."
"I don't think that's all there is to it," the tauren said, shaking his horns. "Even as far south as Mulgore, the Earthmother weeps. I feel echos of the time when C'thun awakened."
"That one is dead, or sleeping still," Thrall declared. "I have the word of the Cenarion Circle that the Silithid still sleep."
"C'thun was not the only Old God," Mylra said, shaking her head. "We know there were others. And that they were once the masters of all the elements. Ragnaros was only the most recent of their servants that had to be stopped."
"The Old Gods, could there be one in Northrend?" Thrall wondered. "We should investigate this."
"None have ventured into that land for many years," Za'pei said, shaking his head. "It be cursed. Nothin' good can come from dere."
"Then perhaps I should agree to this expedition," Thrall mused. "Still, we must go over the signs of corruption, and how to counteract them."
The group discussed for long hours just how the elements were acting odd, and what problems they had encountered. Possible solutions were presented as well, such as the possibility of training other races in the shamanistic arts.
"If this human can learn the ways of the Earthmother, I see no reason others could not," the tauren stated. Ron had learned his name was Muln of the Bloodhoof, and that he was one of the advisors to the tauren chief.
"I mean, I guess I could try teaching some other humans about the spirits, but I don't really know many now," Ron admitted. "I live with the Wildhammer. The nearest human settlement is all the way in the ruins of Stromgard. But before I do that, I have a lot to learn meself."
"Hmm. Well, perhaps I can assist you with that," Muln said. "But first, I am weary from our travels. Come, join us in Garadar. Garrosh was telling me of a most interesting ale they brew here."
At the mention of ale, Ron perked up. "Well, I was going to stay with the Vindicators, but I'll have to try some of that. Me da always told me to try new things, especially if they were fermented."
Impa for her part returned with Nobundo to the Vindicar camp some distance from the walls of Garadar, but Mylra was more than willing to come try the brew. The ale turned out to be brewed from hops mixed in with mana thistle, and was quite delicious. The orcs seemed a bit leery of having Ron and Mylra in their camp, but Muln and the other tauren were very welcoming.
They stayed up long into the night, singing drinking songs and telling outrageous tales. Muln stood swaying on a table and sang a long ballad about a tauren farmer whose kodo got drunk eating fermented sweet potatoes, and the wild ride they took across the plains. The whole thing was hilarious, especially after half a dozen ales, and prompted Ron to jump upon and sing "There's a Fire in my Whiskey (and on my house elf too)." He only half remembered the lyrics, but by this point both he and everyone else were too far gone to really care.
The real star of the show however was Mylra, who astounded the tauren by matching Muln drink for drink, and seeming to keep ahead of him.
"Where...where doesh it all *hic* go?" Muln asked, peering into Mylra's empty cup. "How...how ish ya doin' that?"
"Ye've got to be stout o' heart to keep up with the Wildhammer, laddie," Mylra declared. She grabbed two more mugs of ale, and slammed them down on the table. "Now drink up, I'm winnin' this bet."
Muln eyed the cups warily, swaying in his seat. "No...no you win thish one. I can't...Shpirits. We've got to get up in the morning and *hic* continue the conclave."
"Come on Muln, you're not going to let a tiny thing like that beat you, are you?" a tauren woman named Siln Skychaser said, peering down at Mylra. "Why, she's not even bigger than my calf back home!"
"We dwarves teach 'em young how to drink. Why, Ron's already got yer husband Beram under the table," Mylra said, taking up her cup and draining it.
"Hesh not...hesh not beat me...yet," Beram protested. He tried to lift his cup to his lips, only to fall over backwards and begin snoring.
Ron let out a belch, then staggered to his feet. "Victory!" he cried, then blacked out.
Despite the pounding headache he had acquired the next morning, Ron was pleased to be able to rise with the sun and study with the master shaman assembled, even the Horde ones. After the previous nights contest, the tauren were more than happy share their knowledge, and listen to what Mylra had uncovered herself.
"The way you handle your water spirits is fascinating," Muln mused that morning. "In Mulgor we must coax them out, for they are cautious and wary. But for you, you must bind and tame them, for they are fierce and wild."
"Makes sense, Mulgor's a sort of desert, right?" Ron observed. "In the mountains we get a lot of rain, and that water has a great deal of power."
"Indeed. There are many ways to speak with the elements," Muln agreed. "And one must adapt your style to the spirits you find around you."
The conference was to last three days, but on the evening of the second day Garrosh rowed over on a small barge, racing forward with another orc, this one elderly.
"Warchief!" Garrosh bellowed, leaping out of the boat and racing forward. "Warchief, Orgrimmar is under attack!"
"What?" Thrall said, turning away from the circle. "Saurfang, what has happened?"
"The undead, Warchief," the elderly orc said, hurrying over. "They have attacked from the sea. They are making to siege Orgrimmar now. Our mages teleported me to Garadar to warn you."
"Arthas," Thrall growled, clenching his fist. He turned to the other shaman. "It appears I must depart early. I urge all of you to return to your homes. The spirits warned us of the calamity coming from the north. Now we must fight to free them from the clutches of evil."
Out of the barge came several trolls in robes. "You don' be worrin' warchief," their leader, a female with a painted mask on her face said. "We be gettin' ya home straight away."
The mages formed a circle, and Ron felt the spirits stir as they channeled powerful arcane energies into the center of their group. After a few moments of changing, a window seemed to spring into existence, revealing a city in the desert with large iron gates, which were being attacked by necropoli and waves of undead.
"How could you let this happen?" Garrosh growled, shaking his head at the sight. "A true Warchief would never be caught unawares."
"Now is not the time, Garrosh," Thrall snapped. "Come, we must away."
Soon all of the Horde party were through the portal, leaving only Ron and the three other alliance shaman.
"So, what do we do now?" Impa asked, looking around with a worried expression. "Should we go and help them?" She gestured to the portal, which lingered in the air.
"No," Nobundo said firmly. "Come. We must hurry back to our camp, and make for Shattrath. We have to return to the Exodar as soon as possible."
"What about us?" Ron asked Mylra, concerned. "It will take us a week to fly back to the Aerie through the portal.
"We'd best be stickin' with the Vindicators," Mylra said, shuddering as she watched a wave of ghouls assault the walls of Orgrimmar. "Now's not the time to be strickin' out on our own lad."
The Vindicators were already striking camp, though they were eying Garadar warily, as it looked like a kicked ants nest with guards racing about and alarm bells tolling.
"Impa, Ron!" Harry shouted, riding up on his elekk with Impa's in two behind him. "Mount up! We're leaving. What happened?"
"The Kinslayer has attacked Orgrimmar," Mylra said. "It looks like the Fourth War has begun. We just have to pray the Alliance hasn't been attacked as well."
Soon, the group was riding off, around Garadar and towards Shattrath and safety.