What Once Was One (Book 2)

by Marc Johnson

  The magic dispersed throughout the garden, penetrating and reviving everything it touched. The plants twisted and ripened. Stalks and branches rose to their former stature. The faded colors darkened and deepened until the room became alive with vibrant greens and browns. The flowers reawakened, blossoming so that they painted the room. Familiar pinks, purples, oranges and yellows stared back at me and said their hellos. Reds blinded my eyes.

  The shaking ceased. I gazed around the room, open-mouthed, at the garden restored to its former beauty. The scent of fresh flowers and plants tickled my nose. How was Stradus able to perform such magic after his death, just from his ashes? I hadn’t known such a thing was possible. I realized then that life and death means more for a wizard—more than just the extended life Stradus had enjoyed. I bent down and grabbed a handful of dirt. I inhaled the scent of the fresh, soft soil, wishing I had Stradus’s guidance. There were questions and I needed answers. But his presence would always be in this one spot for all of time.

  “By the gods,” Behast whispered, putting a hand to his mouth.

  A leshii’s body crashed in front of the entrance, interrupting our gawking. Behast pulled his weapon free and started for the door, then stopped and looked back at me.

  “Go,” I said, and motioned with my head. “Help the others. I’ll hurry and prepare the potion.”

  Behast glanced to the open doorway. “I was told to stay here with you. If one of the creatures gets through, you may not have a chance to finish the potion.”

  I smiled. “Then don’t let any of them through.”

  Behast nodded and left.

  I yanked the dagger from my waist and ran around the garden. I cut the flowers and tugged out the roots from the plants I needed. I took more than was necessary, but there wasn’t time to be delicate about it. I hated to waste materials, especially after what I had just seen and what Stradus had taught me, but my friends were out there fighting for their lives.

  I brought everything to the workbench and tried to block out the sounds of battle—the grunting, shouting, screeching, dying. I shook my head free, trying not to remember when I fought in Alexandria.

  I measured everything, then ground the ingredients with the pestle, hurrying to blend them all together. I dumped it all in a flask, poured in some water and heated it.

  “Come on, come on,” I said, rubbing my hands together, watching it boil and listening to the sounds of battle outside the door. They came closer, then faded, then moved closer once more. I was tempted to use my power to make the flame burn brighter, but Stradus had taught me not to. If I was off, I would have to start over and waste even more precious time. I ignored the mess I had made on the bench, wanting to scatter the extra petals, leaves, and roots to the ground.

  The ingredients melted into a greenish, oozing liquid. I inhaled the scent of the minty liquid and knew it was done. I poured it into a flask, taking care to not spill a drop. I used my robe as a barrier while I carried the still-hot flask in my left hand and sprinted out of the room.

  I ran down the hallway. At the end of it was an open door. Dozens of leshii funneled out of it. My friends held the line, doing their best to stop the leshii advance. Jastillian, Prastian, and Behast met the creatures with their melee attacks. From behind those three, Demay shot his arrows, piercing any leshii that crawled on the ceiling or got too close to the others.

  They fought well, but my friends couldn’t hold them off forever. Behast was injured and they had already been fighting for quite some time against an overwhelming force. Their movements slowed, and instead of giving inches of ground, they started to give chunks.

  I conjured fire and wind magic. My body crackled with energy until an aura of fire surrounded me and the torches in the tunnel blazed hotter. A shield of air encompassed me, my hair and robes flapping as if I were in a storm.

  “Everyone down!”

  My friends dropped to the ground just as I released a torrent of wind and fire from my free hand. It funneled down the tunnel, burning and slashing at the leshii. They screeched in chorus as the skin peeled from their bodies. The sharp wind snapped at them like a wild animal, cutting and slashing.

  I willed the spell to keep the burning wind from harming my friends. Yet it brushed against them, singeing their clothes. The fire pursued the leshii, heading through the open doorway and blazing deeper into the mountain.

  I cut the fire off, gasping for air and feeling a trickle of blood drip down my nose. I wiped it away, along with the droplets of sweat hanging from my forehead. It was hard to create a spell that powerful and focus it to not burn the entire tunnel.

  My friends rose. Demay brushed the soot from his tunic. Prastian soaked up the sweat from his forehead with his arm.

  “Excellent job, lad,” Jastillian said, smothering the small fire in his beard. “We weren’t sure how long we could hold those blasted creatures.”

  Demay laid his hand on the now scorched, blackened wall and yelped. He blew on his hand and shook it. “That fire was a bit close.”

  “It’s not over,” Behast said. He closed his eyes and his ears twitched. “There are more coming.”

  We ran to the open doorway and peered down. The main stairwell split into other passageways. The caverns and tunnels were like the rest of the White Mountain I was used to, but far bigger. The cuts of the stone were smooth, but looked like they hadn’t been maintained in centuries. A branching passageway’s entrance had collapsed, the pile of rocks blocking it off. There must have been an entire city within the mountain, spreading to gods know where. The dwarves must have built it before they turned into leshii. I had lived here for a few years, thinking that I was in no danger and that the White Mountain was a comfy home. It was far more than that.

  The sounds of the leshii grew, flickers of shadows creeping out from those passageways. More shades joined until their piercing sound of shrieks thundered closer to us.

  Prastian grabbed a torch and tossed it down. The torch tumbled against the steps until it finally hit the bottom. The shadows merged together, moving and swirling like a basket full of snakes. There must have been hundreds of them. The leshii hissed and shrieked at the light. After peering up at us, they charged.

  “I’m going to need more arrows,” Demay whispered.

  I flared the torch at the bottom. The leshii cried out in pain. I burned a few, but not enough, before they extinguished the light. I summoned more fireballs into the dark abyss, but it was like throwing stones into a well.

  The creatures growled and screeched. Their collective voices sent chills throughout my bones, carrying with them the promise of death. The wave of leshii swelled as they clawed closer, scrambling on the walls, ceilings, and floor. The lure of live meat overwhelmed them and they climbed over each other, not caring that others in their way got hurt. One creature slipped and stumbled, and the tide of bodies surged over it, claws gouging its body.

  “I’ll need time to seal the doorway,” I said.

  “We’ll give it to you,” Behast said.

  “Demay,” Prastian said, sheathing his sword. “Draw your bow and help me.”

  Prastian and Demay stood near the doorway, bows at the ready. The elves took aim, drawing their bowstrings back. Behast and Jastillian guarded and flanked their sides.

  “I’m not going to be able to help you while I’m in the trance,” I said. “You’re going to have to protect me. But try not to risk your lives needlessly. If you’re overwhelmed, wake me and we’ll leave.”

  They nodded. Prastian and Demay let their arrows fly. One after another left their bows and hit their marks. Arrows riddled the bodies of the deformed dwarves as they smashed into the ground, imparting one last shriek before heading to the afterlife.

  I forced the battle out of my mind and stepped back from the fray. I couldn’t focus on if my friends could hold the leshii off. I knew they would. They had to. I poured the green potion on my hands until it coated them, and flung the flask aside. I closed my eyes, slowed my bre
athing, and ignored the leshiis’ shrieks and the iron blood smell of battle, leaving the world behind.

  I visualized the doorway and began to weave my web. My hands moved in the intricate pattern I had memorized from the book. My fingers shot out in precise movement and my hands danced up, down, left, right, and zigzagged.

  Webs were the strings that linked together all the elements of mana. I had to grasp that magical force and entwine them into the web I was creating. Those without magic couldn’t see it, but there was a faint web growing in front of me. I strengthened it with the fire burning inside of me, along with my former master’s strongest mana of wind, and pushed it out in front of me. The invisible web passed through everything and clung to the doorway, glimmering like the morning’s dew stuck to a spider’s web.

  My trance broke, and the roaring chorus of the leshii hit me like a wall. Their high-pitched screeches burned into my ears. Agony? Or triumph? I couldn’t tell. My hands were numb and throbbing, still covered in green goo.

  Prastian and Demay leaned past the edges of the doorway, loosing their torrent of arrows down the shaft, their quivers almost empty. Jastillian and Behast were nowhere to be seen. When I went to the brothers, I saw Jastillian and Behast had forced their way down into the staircase. They fought back the swelling tide of creatures with brute strength, superb battle skills, and higher ground. Bodies piled up around them, and their footing threatened to slip in the blackening blood.

  I gave a shrill whistle. “Fall back!”

  Inch by hard-fought inch, the pair retreated. Jastillian covered their escape while the wounded Behast retreated. The dwarf killed another leshii, laughing and hollering. He seemed to enjoy slaying his people’s mortal enemies.

  Prastian used the last of his arrows to kill two of the creatures, creating a small window of opportunity for Jastillian. He turned and sprinted back towards us, pushing his muscles as hard as he could.

  Behast had made it to the doorway, and we pulled him through. We yelled for Jastillian to hurry, but because of his age and heavy weapons, his feet moved as if through molasses.

  A group of five leshii scraped their way to him, their sharp claws grabbing the stone and allowing them to gain speed with each passing moment. Prastian and Demay were out of arrows and I couldn’t use any magic, lest the spell of the web I hadn’t finished casting be broken.

  The leading leshii leapt out, its sharp fangs and claws aching to dig their way into Jastillian’s exposed back.

  An arrow burrowed into its gaping mouth with such force the creature flew backward, tumbling into the leshii behind him.

  “Got it!” Demay said with a triumphant smile, just as Jastillian flew past us. Behast flung the burnt door shut.

  Jastillian had his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. Buckets of sweat poured from his head.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  He waved me off. “I’m fine. I hate running.”

  “Are you sure this will work, Hellsfire?” Prastian asked, glancing at the door. “The door’s ready to fall apart.”

  “It’ll work. The magic will keep them at bay, not the door.”

  The almost completed web shimmered like a crystal as it clung to the door. My friends held the door in place. There was no way to keep it barred, and the wood was already brittle from my earlier spell. My four friends held fast, straining their muscles against the incredible force of all the leshii tearing and scratching at the door.

  I lifted my hand and spaced my fingers out. The mana I’d gathered for the web flowed around me, encompassing me. I transferred it to the drying potion on my hands. The green potion glowed in response. It flew from my hands and flung itself towards the door.

  “Move!” I yelled.

  They let go of the door and dove out of the way. Before the potion hit the web, I empowered it. A gust of fire poured out of my hands, forcing its way through the cracks, burning the creatures close to it. The web, potion, and fire all coalesced together like a polished candlestick. The green potion clung to the web and glowed, shining in all the colors of the gods before vanishing. The door and the web became one.

  The relentless leshii pounded at the door. The old door held strong as the web reinforced it and made it immovable. My friends still cradled their weapons and stared at the door, afraid it might burst at any second.

  “It’s over,” I said, gasping a deep breath and leaning against a wall.

  “But what about the leshii?” Demay asked, still clutching his bow with a tightened grip. “Can they get through?”

  “If they knew what was good for them, they’d stop.”

  I twirled my fingers and gestured to the door. A dark green light flashed through the cracks, deepening to a crimson red.

  “They have one more warning,” I said.

  The web combusted into fire. An intense orange and red cascaded through the far side, illuminating the outline of the door. The heat radiating from it brushed against our skin. The leshii shrieked to the heavens one last time before the God of Death claimed their lives.

  “What happened to them, lad?” Jastillian asked.

  “They burned.”

  “Good.”

  One of the leshii on the ground squirmed. My friends readied their weapons, then lowered them when they saw the huge gash in its body and how it could barely move. The leshii’s beady eyes stared at Jastillian. Such anger and hate seared into my friend. “Foolish…dwarf. You’ll never…understand.”

  Jastillian spat and raised his boot. He stomped on the creature until its head caved in. Blood squirted on Jastillian’s face, but he didn’t care. He stormed off, leaving blood-filled footprints on the ground.

  I left everyone there to tell Cynder what had taken place. When I stepped through the door, a stream of fire twisted and flew at me. My eyes widened, and I lifted a hand, parting the flame. It crashed against the cave walls. The fire stopped and the dragon smiled. Sulfur smoke billowed from his nose.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I was afraid you were one of those creatures,” Cynder said. “Such annoying little things. Those screeches gave me a headache.”

  I glared at him. “What if one of the others came here?”

  “I would have had a nice lunch. Now, aren’t you glad you didn’t get past the web a couple of years ago? That was such a bad idea you had. You could have been killed and we would have never found your body.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “My idea? It was your idea, you stupid dragon.” I waved him off. “Some help you were. Couldn’t even get your big head inside. We could have used you against the leshii.”

  “Leshii? Stranger name than yours. You did fine, little one. Stradus would have been proud. If you really wanted my help, I could have cleansed the caves with a stream of fire. That would have killed all those vile creatures.”

  “You would have burned everything inside, including us.”

  Cynder performed the dragon equivalent of a shrug by slightly raising his front foreleg. “I’m sure you would have shielded yourself and your friends.” His eyelids flickered and he stared at the blood on my wizard’s robes. “Now tell me what happened and leave in all the good bits.”

  I relayed to him what had happened, and then went to the spring to clean up. I finished the binding potion I had started in Alexandria, knowing it would be a few more days before it set. Instead of helping Jastillian and Prastian do more research in Stradus’s library, Behast and Demay carried the charred leshii bodies out into the main tunnel. Cynder finally made himself useful and took care of those bodies.

  I rummaged through Stradus’s old belongings, trying to find anything of use for our trip to the Wastelands. Without knowing the origin or reason for the artifacts, I couldn’t tell what they were used for. I didn’t have time to research more than a couple of them. I scoured the library to look for a spell or ritual that could help in our quest, but I came up empty. I knew then that I was going to have to tell my friends about the soul binding spell.
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  Jastillian and Prastian found something useful though—a detailed map of Renak’s tower in an old book. Etched into it were intricate markings of the way Renak set up his place of rule. It showed us where his throne room was, the cells, the kitchen, the living quarters. We knew the tower might not still be like that, but it would be a good start.

  I gathered everyone in the library and explained to them the magic the princess gave me and how I couldn’t find another spell in Stradus’s library that would work as well or get us as close to Masep as this. I outlined the dangers of the ritual until they understood the possible consequences.

  They stood there, not looking at me or each other, as they gazed into nothingness. Questioning looks soon passed across their faces, and I knew it was only a moment before their emotions exploded to the surface.

  “It’s bad enough we’ll be wearing those smelly little goblin skins, but now we can lose our souls?” Demay asked, bug-eyed. He glanced to his brother and thumbed his bowstring.

  “Death happens to us all,” Behast said. “But if these creatures take over our bodies, what will become of us? What if our bodies die and they’re in control?”

  “Then our souls will be lost forever,” I said.

  “Is there no other spell that could help us?” Prastian asked.

  I shook my head. “I went through all of Stradus’s books and couldn’t find anything. There are no secret passageways to get us closer and no other spells to camouflage us. This is it.”

  “I’d rather go back to our original plan of getting as close as we can and fighting our way in,” Demay said. “You’re a wizard. The creatures should bow down to you or something.”

  “You knew it was dangerous when you agreed to go,” I said.

  “I know, but this is something else entirely. This wasn’t what I expected.”

  I sighed. “I understand if any or all of you decide not to go. You’ve helped me enough already. I’ll go alone if I have to.”