The Pilgrimage

[narazen]

1.

She sniffed the air of Terokkar Forest. No, it was not the air she sniffed, it was the world. She sniffed the presence of the Spirits, the earth in the vegetation around her, the air that scattered the fresh spores of springtime, the fire of the sunrays, enlightening the forest, and the water nurturing the roots of the plants. And she sensed the spirits of the wilds, the combined life force of all living in the forests, from the smallest, invisible bugs to the vicious bears, wolves, spiders and basilisks hunting whatever dared come too close to their territory.
Nara’zen nearly choked when she forgot to breathe out of pure ecstasy. The immense concentration of spirits she felt flooded her like a crushing wave, before lifting her in wings of silk and losing herself in the feeling. With a small thud, she awoke from her trance on the soil of the forest, having fallen over by just the feeling. Compared to the places in Azeroth she usually visited, filled with cities, settlements, sole buildings, mines, excavations and whatever else the inhabitants had built there, and worst of all, filled with people that never ceased to amaze her with their unthinkably low level of intelligence: the main reason she had left for the miraculously unscarred wilds of what was left of once immense Draenor, which she had the luck of calling her home once.

After the first wave of ecstasy had left her, Nara’zen took another deep breath, this time not to experience the surroundings, but to become one with it. She did not inhale breath, she inhaled the winds of the forest, becoming a part of it. She picked a leaf from a nearby bush and brushed it between her thumb and index finger to draw out its nutrient, before slowly stroking it over her temples like a kind of oil, to align the nature of the forest with her own. Closing her eyes in concentration, she nodded sagely.
I thank you, spirits of the Air and Earth, for acceptance in your environment. I will not throw your trust into the winds.
Saying this prayer, she slowly stretched a leg and set her first foot in the wilds. Instantly she knew the area, guided by the Spirit of the Earth, she made her way into the forest.

The draenei shaman knew her path. A day earlier, she had heard about an ancient tribe of Broken One shamans residing in the mountains of Terokkar, where they had liven their endless lives in peace, ever protected by the spirits of the surroundings. Though no one in the city of Shattrath knew where the village was, Nara’zen had the best guide she would get.
After an hour’s travel, the shaman halted, facing a huge mountain, steeper than the ravines of the Thousand Needles. It was impossible to climb, but the Spirits told her that up the walls was the way to the settlement. Closing her eyes, she contacted her guide.
How can this be the place, great Spirit of the Earth? It would take a whole party and a trunk of tools to be able to climb this mountain. Am I expected to do it alone?
The reply came in a deep, rocking voice, that made her tremble with every word it spoke.
You, Chosen, are expected to see through that which the unworthy see.
For a moment, she but stood there, pondering the answer. Then she raised her head, eyes still closed, and stepped forward towards the wall, walking a few yards distance before opening her eyes. The mountain was gone, behind her a long, treeless path moved out of the place. Whether she was still in Terokkar Forest, she did not care, for she had found her destination. Ahead of her lay the village of the Furwarden Broken, and a group of them had already approached her to greet a newcomer.
“Ash’al Thelaa, Nara’zen of the Balance, and welcome to our humble village,” greeted what seemed to be the chieftain of the tribe. A large wolf, its fur black as ashes, howled happily beside him. “My name is Azeru the Scentless, as you no doubt have guessed chieftain of the Furwarden tribe. The Spirits told of your arrival, and are just as happy to see you here.”
Nara’zen stood silent, eyeing her greeters while thinking of the right words. Thought the broken were supposed to look similar to draenei, but altered by the decease of Draenor, the ones standing there looked much more like the original draenei than any other broken she had ever seen. Their tail was still in place, poking out of their waists, and was still singular, instead of the others who usually had three tails emerging from the middle of their back. Everything else in their form also looked much more like draenei, like the healthy blue tone of their skin and elegance in the overall shape. The only thing that differed them was the form of their heads, which looked the same as the broken.
“You have my deepest gratitude for giving me shelter, and the opportunity to live and learn in your village, Azeru the Scentless. Had I not known better, I would have asked what it is you wish in return.”
The old shaman smiled. “Oh, but there is something we wish in return.”
It was then Nara’zen noticed there was not a single woman in the group of broken.

The days passed quickly, and with each morning sun on her face, Nara’zen felt reborn. Being able to live in a healthy environment as the Furwarden tribe was was a gift worth more than her life to any shaman. She felt her bond to the elements strengthen faster and easier than ever, and she finished her practice on the heeding of earth and air faster than she could have anywhere else.
All the Furwardens asked in return was for her to keep them company whenever they wished. Though she has the right to reject any of them, she never did, not out of gratitude, but she had found herself grow closer to everyone in the tribe very quickly.

2.

The rain was falling heavily on the moist soil when Nara’zen and two of her tribe members, the young apprentice Takeer and the tribe elder Kald gathered on the highest hill in the valley to perform their daily ritual to the spirits. Not saying a word or granting a look to each other, they positioned the ritual totems in place, saying a small prayer to the resembling Spirit with each totem. One wrapped with loose red ribbons, waving freely in the wind with a small torch set aflame on top, to resemble Fire. Another carved in waves, painted a deep blue on the shaft, and with a small bowl of water on the head, placed facing the one of Fire diagonally. A totem covered in leaves and vines, sprouting flowers at the above half, to resemble Earth, facing one totally plain, but still looking elegant, with a hole in the head to give the winds access to it. Fire and Water, Earth and Wind, bound by the totem in the center, which was almost four times as big, and rather than ornamented, hang filled with the heads of slain prey, carefully conserved to honor their sacrifice of life to feed the tribe.
Kald spoke. “We come in humbleness, Spirits of the world, to ask what we always ask, and to thank for what we always thank. Today, we ask of you, Spirit of the Waters, that you will guide the heavy rainfall away from us, so that it will not flood our fields, and we ask of you, Spirits of the Wilds, that you keep strengthened the crops in those fields, so that they will live to see sacrifice. Such is as we ask.”
Even though it was not her to who they spoke, Nara’zen could still hear the reply from the spirits, and from his expression she noted Takeer could too.
Your request is reasonable, and it will be heeded. Live in peace, Furwarden Tribe.

At evening, the rain had stopped. The tribe had gathered around a large bonfire to together enjoy the rich harvest and fruitful hunt, and not to mention each other’s company. Even though Nara’zen was indeed the only female in the tribe, she wasn’t regarded as any more or less by any one of them, except for the times she and another were alone.
Nara’zen had finally found the courage to ask Kald why there weren’t any other females in the village.
“That story takes us back about fifty of your years, Nara’zen. It was when the orcish Horde was waging war on anything it could find on Draenor. When one of the last shaman of the Warsong clan had discovered our hideout in this hidden valley, and led a great force of bloodlusting orcs to destroy what we had built. Though the Spirits had warned us, there was only one exit from the valley, which was constantly kept an eye on by their scouts. We could either hide and pray we would not be found, or accept our fate and be slain. Fighting such a force was not an option, all of us thought. Except one.
When the orc shaman led his army into the valley, they met not the whole tribe, but one woman. She had raised the fields to walls, keeping the orcs from charging into the valley, and spoke to them to stop their assault, or face the wrath of the elements.”
“But,” Nara’zen interrupted, “if the Spirits had led the orcs into the valley, why would they as well heed that woman to stop them from doing so?”
“You are wise, Nara’zen,” Kald replied, “but you forgot, that we shamans are in control of the elements on the first stage. We can do with them what we want, without any boundaries. Until we anger the Spirits, and they ignore the calls completely, sealing you off your power.
The woman had not called the Spirit of the Earth for his aid. She had taken its powers for her own use, to protect the tribe. But that was futile. The orcs only had to bring their siege weapons to break through the wall, leaving us defenseless yet again, or so they thought. For as the walls crumbled, an inferno of purging fire surged over the army, scorching green skin, melting weapons, laying siege units to ashes, choking creatures in lack of oxygen. The woman had forced her power onto another element to destroy the army entirely and forever scare any orc off our lands.
But the price we paid was ten times higher. The Spirits were enraged, not only at the woman, but at the whole tribe for allowing her to act the way she did. In their rampage, the Spirits of Fire and Earth turned onto the Spirit of the Wilds, the one that saw over the females in our village. They killed the Spirit, and with that every female in the village, also seeing to it that no females would ever be born in here again.”
The first emotion crossing Nara’zen was amaze. Then anger, towards the stupidity of the female shaman, and sadness, for the fate of the tribe. But the last emoting crossing her was a sadness for the broken she was talking to.
“The one who you speak of. She was your wife, was she not?”
Kald shut his eyes and nodded, trying his best to hold back tears.

They were silent for the rest of the evening, until one of the broken suddenly rose. Nara’zen recognized him as Altheron, the leader of the hunting parties, and closest to the Spirits of the Wilds. He quickly hushed everyone to silence as suddenly a young, gray wolf stepped into the light of the bonfire.
“It has been decades,” Altheron spoke, “since there has last been an animal in our midst ready to Choose. The one who will be Chosen today should therefore feel additionally honored. May it be done!”
With these words, Altheron seated, gently stroking his own wolf, a female with pale white fur named Snowblight. Nara’zen knew his words to be true, for there were only a few shamans left with an animal kin. Whoever the wolf would Chose would be very lucky.
The gray wolf slowly peered around the circle, taking a good eye of everyone. The moment he met Nara’zen’s gaze, she suddenly felt empowered, more lively than ever. The wolf seemed to feel the same, and quickly strode over to her and hopped on her lap. She only smiled, scratching Nightfur behind his ears. The other broken seemed slightly disappointed, but not surprised.
“Now tell us, Nara’zen, what his name will be?” said Altheron.
“His name is Nightfur. And by this, he not only sealed the kinship between us two, but also that between me and the whole tribe.”
Kald slowly started applauding, and soon everyone joined. Nara’zen paid it no heed, still stroking her new friend.

[narazen]

3.


The red-hot sun rising over the hills, Nara’zen was awoken by scared yells, calls to arms, and Nightfur nuzzling his snout in her face. Half asleep, she turned around to pet the wolf.
“What is it, dear, had a bad dream?” she yawned.
It was then that Azeru stormed in her tent and shook her awake.
“By the Naaru, wake up, Nara’zen! We’re under attack, we must flee! Damn it, wake up!”
Nara’zen calmly rubbed her eyes out, then jumped up and gasped as she saw the scene outside her tent. Fire, everywhere, eating its way through the village. Broken running any way that wasn’t blocked yet. And towering over it, a huge fire elemental, large enough that it could have been Ragnaros himself, if he wasn’t slain a few years ago. A few shamans were trying their best to either get a hold of the elemental, or battle it with water, but were quickly forced to retreat as well.
Nara’zen jumped out of bed, grabbed the first rags she could find for clothing and ran out the tent, closely followed by Azeru and Nightfur. It seemed all other Broken had already fled for the hills. She occasionally threw a gush of water from one of the deserted buckets to the flames blocking her path, ever saying her prayer to the Spirits when she called upon them.
Just as they saw the exit of the village up ahead, a huge boulder of flowing lava, bound together by an immense red bracelet, crashed into the earth in front of them. The elemental had spotted them, and now concentrated all his rage onto the three. As it threw its other fist towards them, Nara’zen called together all water she could find in the vicinity, colliding with the fist as a shield. The elemental flinched and raged in pain as the water evaporated and consumed a part of its mass.
“Now is the time, go!” she yelled, and the three started running again. Big as it was, the elemental still had a hard time keeping up, most of it energy wasted on only being able to stand in the real world. The shamans had made a good distance, enough to talk while running.
“How in the world did that thing get here?!” Nara’zen demanded.
“Elementals escape from their planes regularly,” panted Azeru, “though we’ve never seen one this huge. Regardless, that is not at matter, we just need to survive! Run to the lake, it’s allergic to water!”
Nara’zen nodded. The lake should bear enough water to annihilate the elemental if it dared step foot inside, providing safety for the shamans. There was no hope for the village.
They reached the lake. Without hesitation, she dived in, and felt her lounges get blocked while her cheeks formed holes, drawing oxygen out of the water instead of the air. The rest of the tribesmen were there already, praying, counting their losses, or idling as if nothing was happening. Azeru and Nara’zen quickly joined them, and searched for Kald. He found them first.
“Azeru, Nara’zen, I’m glad to see you two alive and well.”
“Ash’al Thela, elder.” Azure replied, “We two are the last ones. Have we lost many?”
“Many, not, but of importance. Kaltheron has given his life for many to escape the village in time. The Spirits bless him for this honourable deed.”
“And what of the animals?”
More Nara’zen didn’t hear, stunned with fear. The animals. Nightfur couldn’t swim. An eerie howl sounded through the waters, and awoke her. She swam faster than any fish to the surface, and saw what she had feared to see.
The great elemental had followed them to the lake, and seemed to still be attacking someone. Before Nara’zen could act, it swung down its fist and crushed the form underneath it, a loud yelp was the last to be heard. Still carried by fear, she rushed out of the water, and stood at the shore, looking at the corpse of her lost companion.
Her eyes turned red. She bolded her fist. Her fear had vanished making place for ten times as much anger. Her breath got heavier, her vision blurred with tears in her eyes. The air surrounding her weaved around, getting hotter by the second, not thanks to the presence of the fire elemental. The earth trembled, the water rushed violently.
And with a roar louder than that of a thousand orcs, Nara’zen shot out. The water from the lake engulfed her in a massive ball, the edges freezing on the spot as she charged the elemental.
Clouds of steam hided the scene from the world. After a few minutes, when most of it had drawn away, the broken emerged from the crater that first held the waters of the lake. Still trembling with power, Nara’zen stood in the middle of a patch of grass, scorched earth all around it. Then, she fell on hands and knees, exhausted. Tears streaming down her face, she whispered.
“What have I done?.. Enslaved the elements… To my bidding… My own selfish revenge…”
No, Shaman. You have used my power to accomplish that which I was unable to by myself. For that you have earned my gratitude to offset your actions.“But in vain… Nightfur is lost…”
A too familiar voice barked behind her.
“You spoke too soon, Nara’zen,” Kald said, holding up a glowing rock in the shape of an ankh. “The shamanistic ankhs do not only work on humanoids.”
Nightfur ran at Nara’zen, jumping in her arms. She had just enough strength to catch him, before she fainted.


She glanced back one more time to the tribe, before walking the path out of the valley, Nightfur by her side. Kald’s last words echoed through the mountains.
“Remember the times, Nara’zen. For they were different from that you think.”
Nara’zen had learned to pay little heed to Kald’s riddled lines at the start.

Haldore was just packing his heavier armor in his bags when he spotted a last traveller approaching Shattrath City. He respectfully saluted her, before recognising her as the shaman that he had told of the rumours earlier.
“Greetings, Nara’zen of the Balance! What brings you back so soon?” he greeted her.
“Soon? What do you mean, I’ve been away for over a month, like I said.”
“A month? No, oh no, it was three days ago that you left. I always remember details on a pretty face like that.”