What Once Was One (Book 2)

by Marc Johnson

  The goblins’ noises ceased and Demay retrieved me. We carried all the supplies inside. Goblin bodies lay in impossible positions. Dark green blood oozed from their fatal wounds. The biggest goblin clutched his hand around a rusted broadsword.

  I peeled off my disguise. The slime stuck to me like molasses. When I finally got it off, I was thankful that the air seemed fresher, even inside a goblin lair.

  “Demay and Prastian, please prepare some food for us,” Jastillian said. “Behast, would you help me chop off the goblins’ heads and hang them outside? Lad, start preparing your ritual.”

  I nodded. The energy I had been gathering made my eyes twitch and the hairs on the back of my neck rise. It ached to be released. I stopped drawing in mana and meditated until dinner was ready, calming the inner storm trapped inside my body.

  “Why’d you hang their heads outside, Jastillian?” Demay asked.

  “To make others think this cave is being occupied by a couple of ferocious ogres.”

  “Why would that stop creatures from getting in?”

  Jastillian laughed. “It means there’s a mating ritual going on in here, and that things would get deadly for trespassers. There’s nothing worse than interrupting a pair of breeding ogres.”

  We all chuckled.

  “Will we need to rotate watch?” Behast asked.

  “Aye, but there’s only need for one person at a time. The heads will serve as a good warning for two days. No one would dare come in unless something far worse was outside.”

  After dinner, I started on the blood ritual, thankful to finally let the tempest inside my body out. The energy strained against my body, pounding to get out. I rubbed my temples and gasped for air. I had never held magic in for so long before. I’d cast powerful spells, but, like a roaring fire, they burned bright and were gone. Here, it was like carrying buckets of water across my shoulders for days. Magic wasn’t meant to be stored like this with no outlet.

  “Hellsfire, are you all right?” Prastian asked.

  “I’ll be fine as soon as I start the ritual.”

  “You don’t look all right,” Demay said. “You’re glowing.”

  I was about to ask him what he was talking about, but then I glanced down at my hand. A faint glow encompassed it. I thought it was a trick of light from the fire, but when I moved my hand, it was still there.

  “Let’s get this over with,” I said. I blinked, holding my eyes closed longer than I should have, and I nearly toppled over. “The sooner, the better.”

  Prastian was the first to volunteer. I painted a circle of blood around him from his slain goblin. The hard ground started to absorb the thick liquid. It didn’t matter. The essence of the blood was all I required, and it would still be there, soaked into the ground.

  I sat down in front of Prastian and handed him the goblin skin he had worn. “You’re going to have to put on your disguise. Unfortunately, none of us are going to be able to take them off, otherwise the spell will end. And whatever you do, don’t move. Understand?”

  “What happens if I move?”

  “Your spirit may be lost and I won’t be able to recover it. Or worse, an unwanted spirit may inhabit your body.”

  “What kind of spirit?”

  For a moment, I hesitated to tell him. I didn’t want to make Prastian or any of the others nervous. But they deserved to know the truth.

  “Dark spirits,” I said. “I will have to journey beyond our realm to retrieve the goblin spirits we’ll need. Other beings lurk in the place I will have to go. Beings that were never part of this world, yet would try desperately to cross over into this one. They’re more mindless and savage than the Wasteland beasts and more cunning than you or I. Their desire to cross over makes them yearn like a desperate man dying of thirst, so they can wreak untold havoc on our world. With their knowledge and power and twisted desires, there’s no telling what they’re capable of.”

  Prastian’s green eyes stared into mine and he nodded. “I understand.”

  I turned to everyone. “Don’t interrupt me and disrupt the spell. That will cause more harm to both myself and Prastian. Even if it looks like something’s wrong, or if we’re under attack.”

  They nodded.

  I turned back to Prastian. “Ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  I sat cross-legged in front of him and closed my eyes. The energy I had been gathering hummed in a quiet tune no one could hear but me. I reached out to the two most elusive mana—life and death. The warmth of life and the cold touch of death brushed against me like standing in a cold breeze on a warm day. I balanced and intertwined them until they became one gray mana.

  The gray mana buzzed and encircled me. I clutched onto it as hard as I could, lest it escape me. I manipulated its power to open a gateway and venture where few living had ever dared to go, and where all would go when our lives ended. My body collapsed and I blacked out.

  My spirit crossed over to another world. I couldn’t go into the afterlife because I still lived, but I could travel to a place between our world and the next, where the goblin could come to me.

  Because of my living, mortal flesh, the boundaries of that place afflicted my soul. I froze as if my body had been dunked into the iciest lake in the midst of winter. I burned as if I were trapped in the Burning Sands, my throat parched from lack of water. I drowned, trapped in the ocean while it pulled me down.

  Finally, I floated in the otherworldly void. A spectral, ghostly light surrounded me. I was staring at it, entranced by its beauty, when I realized I wasn’t alone.

  Those dark spirits I had warned Prastian of reached out to me, trying to tear me from the path and lead me to my own doom. One apparition enticed me with sweet promises of power and sex. Another specter lulled me with gold and riches. I ignored all the cries and songs. They had nothing I wanted.

  The tunnel I drifted in brightened and shifted into horrific pictures. The dark spirits forced images into my head—my mother’s head on the end of a pike, Krystal ravaged and beaten like an animal, dozens of people burning all around me while I fed the flames with my power.

  No mortal eyes were meant to see what I saw, not even those of a wizard. I closed my spiritual eyes and mind, trying to shut out the ghostly lights before the images burned into my mind and I went crazy. Then I opened my eyes, looking only out of the corners of my eyes. The pictures continued to run, but I didn’t directly look at them. My voice, imbued by magic, penetrated the veils of death.

  “The essence that once resided in this skin, please hear me.” I said in Caleea.

  While the goblins couldn’t understand the ancient language in life, in death they could. Even though I yelled, my call got lost in the loud jumbled tongues of the dead, the living spirits, and those in between. I was a single voice amidst a chorus. But since the spell was tethered to her body, she would hear me.

  “I beg you to come back.”

  I waited in that place between worlds. The images ceased, but the light around me dimmed. Shadows surrounded me, coming over, trying to pull and tug at my spirit. They hoped to control me and use my body for their own purposes. They were fools. I swung my arm in a sweeping motion, propelling a blade of fire. It cut the insubstantial beings like a scythe.

  The longer I stayed, the more attention I attracted and the weaker I became. A stronger entity would come—something that would take more than minor magic to fend off.

  A small black hole materialized in front of me. I peered into it, believing the goblin spirit would come. Translucent green tentacles shot out from it instead, wrapping around my wrists. They yanked me towards the hole.

  The hole grew bigger and an enormous, open mouth full of tentacles waited inside. The beast smacked its ghostly teeth in anticipation.

  I cut through its bindings with magic and it roared. More tentacles shot out and latched onto me. No matter how many I dispersed, more came. Inch by inch, it reeled me in like a struggling fish. I stopped focusing on its tentac
les and unleashed a torrent of fire into its mouth. It shrieked in pain, withdrawing all its feelers, burrowing itself back into its hovel.

  I propelled myself away from the shrieking hole and flew in the ghostly tunnel, ignoring the cries and promises of the other spirits around me. When more holes popped up, I dodged those lest I be pulled in and have to cast more magic. I needed to conserve it. I had five rituals to perform.

  I beckoned the goblin again, louder and with more force, even though I drew more dark spirits to me. I needed to hurry. The longer I stayed, the more I would be overwhelmed. And I worried about not having enough energy for myself and the others. There was far more at stake than I realized, and the spell scroll hadn’t gone into detail about the dangers that lay in wait.

  One spirit emerged in front of me, with more substance than the rest. Her form looked as if she still lived, making me realize that she was the one I had called.

  In the void, her transparent blue spirit floated next to me with a hollow look on her face. I knew goblins were ferocious and savage fighters, but I wasn’t sure how intelligent they were. Because of my friends’ sizes, we had to use goblins. The ogres and trolls were too big. Anything with too strong a spirit might also take over, and goblins were one of the weakest of the Wasteland creatures, unless they were in large groups.

  I grasped onto Prastian’s mana, using it as a link so the goblin could see. “I give you a chance to live again by bonding your essence to the elf. Do you accept?”

  Silence. I couldn’t tell if she pondered her choice or if she even understood me. A dark tunnel formed around us as my spell started to fade, and began to collapse. The blood magic I used was ending. If I didn’t leave now, I would be trapped here, my soul forever lost.

  “I need your answer,” I said, extending my hand to her.

  Stradus once told me the dead would rarely say no to living again, even if it was only for the briefest time, but the goblin’s pause made me think otherwise. She might not understand me. The exit back to my world dimmed. I had to go. I couldn’t stay any longer.

  As I turned to go, she took my hand. Together, we departed the land of the dead and journeyed back into the land of the living.

  A flash of light blinded me. My eyes adjusted until they brought the world into view. Everything was tilted to the side, including Prastian’s tense and worried face. I pulled myself off the ground and sat up straight. Thankfully, Prastian didn’t move from his circle and the others didn’t break it.

  “Are you all right?” Prastian asked.

  I nodded and in a hoarse voice said, “I’m almost done. Prepare yourself. This is going to hurt.”

  Prastian’s body stiffened. He couldn’t see the goblin spirit invade him. I smiled and let go of the tiring black and white manas. I worked Prastian’s green mana, interweaving it with the spirit. Dipping my hand in the mixed Wasteland blood Rebekah had provided, I created markings across Prastian’s forehead, cheeks, nose, and ears. Normally, I wouldn’t do the ears, but elves believe that’s where an elf’s soul is, and this spell was going to bind to his soul.

  “May the two essences combine and let those of this blood see only the outer skin,” I said and took a deep breath. I was exhausted and still had a lot more work to do. “There. It’s done.”

  “I don’t feel any different,” Prastian said. His green eyes shifted up and down and his ears twitched.

  “You will.”

  Prastian’s eyes suddenly bulged out. He squeezed his chest, gasping for air. The goblin spirit branched into Prastian’s soul as the two became one. Prastian screamed. His body went taut, then collapsed on the ground. He didn’t move for several long minutes.

  “Brother!” Demay said, wanting to rush to Prastian, but Behast grabbed him. “Let me go! What’s happening to him? Is he all right?”

  Prastian’s body shuddered. He slowly rose and his eyes were glazed over. He peered at his own hand as if he hadn’t seen it before.

  “How do you feel, Prastian?” I asked.

  “Strange,” he said sounding awed. “It’s like having someone inside me with their cravings, thoughts, and feelings. It’s amazing, yet scary. I’m—”

  Prastian became quiet and his whole body froze. He didn’t even blink.

  I waved my hand in front of him and asked, “Are you all right?”

  He didn’t respond to me. I was about to reach out to his spirit to see if I had done something wrong, when Prastian leapt at me. He landed on top of me, slamming me to the ground.

  Prastian lashed out with his fingers, slashing at my face, his own contorted in a vicious snarl. I summoned my magic to attack him, but stopped when I remembered who he was. I tried to get a hold on him, but he was so fast and strong and I didn’t want to hurt my friend.

  Behast and Jastillian seized Prastian, binding his arms in place. Prastian still struggled, snapping his teeth at them.

  “What happened, Hellsfire?” Demay asked. “What did you do? What’s happened to my brother?”

  I touched the cut on my face, feeling fresh blood on it, and stared at Prastian. I leaned over him for a closer look, but when I did, it just agitated him more. “I’m not sure. He seemed fine a second ago.”

  I told the others to contain Prastian so he wouldn’t squirm. I scooted over to him, placing my hand on his face. I forced open his eyes, peering into them. Through them, I reached out to Prastian’s mana and saw his spirit deeply intertwined with the goblin’s. That was good. That’s what should have happened. The goblin spirit was overpowering the elf’s, though. I sighed. I had no idea how to separate them without ending the spell or harming Prastian.

  “Snap out of it!” Demay said, pushing me aside and shaking his brother.

  Prastian didn’t recognize him. He snapped his teeth snapped at Demay and struggled to break Jastillian and Behast’s grip.

  Demay slapped Prastian hard. The cracking sound rang in the small cave. Prastian ceased fighting. His frantic eyes settled onto Demay, and his pupils focused on his brother. “I’m all right now. You can let me go.”

  Jastillian and Behast glanced to me, and I nodded.

  Prastian gave a small smile and brought his hand to his face where Demay had left a mark. “That was quite a slap you gave me.”

  Demay reached out and hugged him. “You needed it.”

  “I did. Thank you. Hellsfire, what happened to me? It felt as if she took control. I attacked because I recognized you all as a threat.” Prastian paused and put a hand to his chest.

  Behast shifted his body, getting ready to hold him again.

  “It’s all right,” Prastian said. “Controlling her takes some...getting used to. You’ll see. I will get used to it. We have to.”

  “Just let me know if anything at all changes,” I said. “And if you feel any more outbreaks.”

  He nodded.

  I exhaled and looked at everyone else. “Who’s next?”

  ----

  I was able to successfully perform the ritual on the rest of us. After each ritual, we were all on guard to see how the person would react. Everyone else’s bodies seized up much like Prastian’s did. Mine didn’t. It could have been because I was a wizard, or even because I was human. Yet, I was bone-wearied.

  By the time I was done, my head was throbbing and I could barely keep my eyes open. My chest tightened and I gasped for air. The room spun, and I couldn’t stand, much less sit up. At least I had the goblin to keep me company, as strange as that sounds.

  The goblin skin I wore no longer felt unnatural and weird. The flapping skin of the dead husk, which didn’t even cover my ankles, was now part of me. The nauseating stench became my own scent and I was able to tell the difference between that scent and the others’.

  As exhausted as I was, my goblin had lots of energy. He was a wild one. He wanted to roam the Wastelands now that he had returned. But underneath that excitement lurked pain. I didn’t understand why. I drank a rejuvenation potion and rolled up in a corner, as I didn’t have to take
a watch. Even with the potion and the goblin’s energy, I couldn’t keep myself awake. With the second soul a part of me, I fell sound asleep.

  I woke up refreshed the next morning, as the goblin’s strength added to my own. He was just as eager to get on the way as I was. I needed his strength, because after performing all those rituals, there was no way in the Inferno I could go on without him. My magic wasn’t strong, and I needed more time to recover. We left the empty bags of blood and departed from the cave.

  As the days passed and our group inched our way closer to Masep, the number of Wasteland creatures increased even during the daytime. We were all alone. There were no signs of patrols from Alexandria, and we didn’t expect them this deep into the Wastelands.

  Jastillian didn’t know of any more safe places, as we had reached the limits of his travels. We spent all our time outside, and we couldn’t even make a campfire in case we attracted attention. Two of us were on guard at all times.

  The good thing was that, with our new disguises, we didn’t have to go out of our way to avoid other creatures, although Jastillian would steer us away when groups got too close. We all knew my magic was successful; we felt it. But when we looked at each other, we felt ridiculous.

  Eventually, though, we ran into trouble and had nowhere to go.

  A group of four loud humongous ogres stumbled our way from behind a rock cropping, cutting us off from our route. We didn’t hear or see them coming until it was too late.

  My heart nearly burst out of my chest, and I ached to scream. It wasn’t because I was scared of the gigantic creatures. I had killed many before, but this time was different. The goblin smothered me with anxiety. I had to calm myself and not tremble because of him.

  I glanced around, judging the ogres’ distance from us and calculating how fast I could run northeast, deeper into the Wastelands where I would be safe with more of my kind. I shook my head. That wasn’t right. This wasn’t home. Home was in Northern Shala. With Krystal.

  I stared at the others. They were having the same problem I was. Demay’s left hand was shaking, and he grabbed it with his right to stop it. Behast snarled, drool dribbling down his chin, straining to attack. Prastian froze like a statue, his eyes glassy. Jastillian’s lower lip quivered, and he couldn’t even look at the ogres.