Chapter Three: Garadar in Nagrand

"Stop fighting me about this," Tej'lie said poking her finger against her cousin's chest with each word. "You will take the taxi I paid for and go to the Throne. You said yourself last night it was at least something to try."

"But I will go on my own coin," he said equally as stubborn. "You have a family to feed and support."

"Which we are doing just fine, thankyouverymuch. I can do this for my favorite cousin."

"Fine," he whispered throwing up his hands. "I am beaten."

"Good," she said. "The innkeeper is expecting you and has a space for you."

Joft gave the mage a hug. "Thank you," he whispered, he said his farewells to the others before moving toward the wyvern that was waiting for him. The master gave the creature a command and they were air born a few moments later. The shaman waved at the little family until he couldn't see them anymore, he settled in the saddle and braced himself for the long journey head of him.

Nagrand was one of the places he had not yet visited in Outlands. He wanted to finish his training before entering this place, he felt he needed to be well rested and fully trained before tackling anything Nagrand had to offer. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be doing any sort of tackling anytime soon.

The green and yellow grass plains spread out beneath him, he could smell the richness of the landscape. It reminded him of the savanna of the Barrens but much more greener and with more trees. There were large bodies of water and large creatures wandering about the rolling hills. There was something in the air that stroked him spurring awake his deep rooted magic.

The moment the creature landed, he slipped off the back and was overwhelmed with the sensations. Friendly hands caught him as he fought to stay upright, the welcoming was deafening from the elements they caressed his damaged spirit. "It is alright, shaman," a strong feminine voice said.

"I have to go to the Throne," he mumbled as his vision blurred and he was taken into the massive round building nearby. A plate of food was pressed into his hands and he was sat down near a hammock. He forced himself to eat cursing his delicate nature, by the time he finished he was too tired to see straight. He curled up on the hammock and slept.

In his dreams, he went through every moment of the sickness yet again. He fought uselessly against the weakness that left him unable to help anyone who had been suffering around him. His healing spells had gone unused as people were licked by dragon's fire. Things burned not cooled by the water he could have summoned. Guilt rolled through him as his soul screamed for solace.

Joft was shaken awake, tears were streaming down his face. His body was on fire, his brain felt like it was whipping through a hurricane. "I need to go to the Throne," he whispered.

"Let me get a warrior to escort you," the keeper of the inn said. "Try to drink something while I am gone."

Joft merely nodded but made no effort for the glass that was sitting near the hammock. He was just so sick he wanted the pain to end. Something was going to give and he was afraid it would not end well for him. He was glad he didn't have regrets, all those he loved knew it and he gave some peace to Tej'lie.

The strong sent of leather and metal surrounded him before, strong arms helped him to his feet. The innkeeper and warrior kept knocking against his long tusks as they worked around him to help him walk through the darkened inn toward the lake. He was eased into a small boat. "Bring him back if he collapses or becomes worse," the innkeeper whispered.

"He can barely walk, how can he get any worse?" the warrior demanded.

"Just keep an eye on him, Tej'lie has asked this of us," she whispered before pushing the boat from the dock. Each stroke of the oars brought him closer to the flicker on the other side of the lake. The thick stones sat in a circle around a living flame that warmed the area, the same energy rolled through the shaman as he was helped out of the skiff.

His mind was silenced. He found himself in the mist of the avatars of the elementals that he tried aligned himself with. He didn't feel anger or malice from them, he fell to his knees and tried to explain. He found himself unable to speak, he had no idea what he wanted to tell them.

The wind rolled over him caressing his body. "Fear not, we are not angry with you," the words whispered in his ears.

"Ease your guilt," a roar of flames commanded to his left.

"Open your heart," the water bubbled with love. "I have not seen such damage in the others."

"Let us heal," the earth rumbled softly. "The damage done."

Joft swallowed and lowered his head humbling and opening himself. The rush made him gasp, the weakness was driven out as his shattered spirit was stitched together under their expert care.

Minutes passed, maybe hours he didn't know when he found himself laying on his back staring at the darkened sky, the escort finally found enough courage to lean over him. "You dead?" the orc asked.

The shaman pushed himself up and shook his head in amazement. "No," he answered softly his gaze moving toward the avatars. "Thank you," he whispered as he rose to feet. He felt whole, solid more so than before. His understanding of his powers that he weld was a blessing from the elements, it too, felt stronger and surer.

The ride across the lake was a pleasant one, he could see the water spirits swimming under them. He smiled at them, the air was alive to him as it rushed over the lake surface ruffling his braids. He thanked the warrior before moving toward the inn, the campfire he passed flickered hotter until he was out of range.

He was about to burst with joy he felt inside. He curled up on the ground which was more comfortable than he ever dreamed. He was able to sleep with out the guilt or nightmares, he knew that his life was very much changed. In which ways it was unclear to him.