What Once Was One (Book 2) Read online

  WHAT ONCE WAS ONE

  The Passage of Hellsfire Series, Book 2

  by Marc Johnson

  In the land of Northern Shala, the dark wizard Premier raised an army of foul creatures from the Wastelands and led them against the ancient guardian city of Alexandria. Hellsfire, a young farmhand turned apprentice wizard, defeated Premier and saved Alexandria, but not before the battle claimed his mentor’s life.

  Hellsfire, now a full-fledged wizard, must finish what he started by hunting down Premier and seizing the source of the wizard’s dark power and corruption—the Book of Shazul. He must travel deep into the Wastelands, through Premier’s home territory, dodging the scattered remnants of a defeated army lusting for blood and vengeance.

  But beating in the heart of the Wastelands is an ancient power more dangerous than Premier or his creatures—and it’s been waiting for Hellsfire for a thousand years. It will force the young wizard to make a devastating choice—one that could change the course of history not only for Alexandria and the Wastelands, but for all of Northern Shala and the lands beyond. And to save his homeland, Hellsfire may have to lose the person he loves the most.

  What once was one, will then be two, and never again be whole...

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  CHAPTER 1

  I stared at the faded black words on the brittle page. All the letters blurred together until I lost focus and could no longer read what they said. I rubbed my heavy eyes. I knew I needed a break, but I couldn’t stop now. This was the last day I would have access to Alexandria’s library, and I had to find a spell, a secret path, a strategy—something that would get my friends and me safely through the monster-infested Wastelands and inside the spell-shrouded castle of the most feared wizard who had ever lived.

  Not much to ask of a seventeen-year-old who had been a full-fledged wizard for no more than a month.

  That whole month, I had been studying, doing my best to learn what awaited me in the Wastelands of Renak. My former master, Stradus, would have been glad to see me studying so hard. During my training, he’d had to nag or bribe me to keep me at my books. My face hardened and I glared at the book in front of me. The gap in my life where Stradus had been was still fresh and painful. He’d died protecting me, falling at the hands of the dark wizard Premier. The one I was going into the Wastelands to hunt down and finally defeat for good.

  I flipped a page, almost tearing it. I flattened the page out before scanning it for any helpful information about Masep, Renak’s old place of rule during the War of the Wizards, a thousand years ago. It was there I had to go to face Premier once more, bind his powers so that he would release his hold on the Wasteland monsters and no longer be a threat to the city of Alexandria or the lands of Northern Shala, which the city was sworn to protect. And this time, I would face him without my master at my side.

  Premier was weakened, his powers temporarily broken by his defeat, but he was still dangerous. He had access to whatever secrets Renak had left hidden in Masep, and he still controlled thousands of the Wasteland creatures. But the biggest danger was his possession of the Book of Shazul—one of the most powerful and deadly books of magic ever created, and one that had corrupted Premier to his very soul. From what Stradus had told me about his one-time friend, Premier wasn’t going to be waiting idly for me to come and get him. He would be plotting something, and he would want to strike back at the one who had defeated him—me. And I didn’t have much time before Premier got his powers back. Another month and he would be back to full strength and just as dangerous as he was before.

  I had promised Stradus I would capture that book from Premier, and I would. Stradus believed it was far too dangerous for any wizard to use, and it was definitely far too dangerous to leave in the hands of a wizard as evil as Premier. The problem was, Stradus also wanted me to spare Premier’s life. I didn’t know if I could do that. I wanted him dead.

  I glanced away from the book, my gaze settling at the foot of a wooden bookshelf. The gashes and scorch marks from the battle my friends and I had fought here had been smoothed away and polished over, but I knew they were there. I remembered every elf and every dwarf who had died in this room at the hands of Premier’s creatures, on the night he’d risen up with his hideous armies to take the city. The anger at their loss still burned in me.

  I gazed around the room, seeing in my memory the broken shelves, fallen books, and shattered tables, and worst of all, the bodies of those who’d fought by my side. They’d given their lives to get Princess Krystal and me inside the city that night, and I owed it to them to make Premier pay for what he’d done. He had to be stopped. Even if it went against Stradus’s wishes. If death was the only way to stop him, I’d kill him.

  A small smile escaped my lips, thinking about how the Princess of Alexandria had danced a deadly dance with her sword, twisting and turning, slashing and thrusting. For each goblin, troll, or ogre she’d killed, another took its place. She’d been exhausted and wounded but she never quit.

  I shook my head. The images of the battle disappeared and there were just scholars and scribes in the room, and my friends sharing my table and my research.

  I closed my book. I wasn’t finding anything here. I glanced at the empty spaces in the bookshelves, praying I hadn’t destroyed what I needed during the battle. Even now, they were still cataloging and re-shelving the books.

  I hadn’t told anyone, but I was also hoping to find a way to help Alexandria. Krystal and her people had suffered—not just at the hands of Premier, but for their whole lives. Ever since the city was built, over a thousand years ago, their main purpose had been to protect Northern Shala from Renak’s monsters to the north. All alone, for centuries, they’d held the border of the Wastelands, giving their lives so that the rest of Northern Shala could live in peace.

  It was a wizard who had been the cause of this. Perhaps it was a wizard who could fix it. It would be the greatest gift I could give to Krystal—the chance to enjoy the peace her people had brought to the rest of Northern Shala. She had welcomed me into her city with open arms. Sadly, her people had not done the same.

  I understood why. I was a wizard, the embodiment of those whose power had started the Great War that had torn the land in two and loosed the Wasteland monsters. Alexandria had been dealing with the mess wizards had made for a millennium.

  I tried not to let the people’s hostility and mistrust bother me. I didn’t even tell the princess about it when we were alone together. She didn’t need to know. I had tried to change people’s minds by helping with the rebuilding, using my powers to make things easier. All I got were stares and whispers. The carpenters and blacksmiths didn’t actively turn me away, but they didn’t let me do much of anything, either. I finally gave up and settled on not using my powers. But even when I’d tried to help clean the library by scrubbing away the blood from the stone floor or sorting the books
into piles, I got the same veiled looks and resentment.

  I had eventually given up trying to get them to accept my help, and started spending more and more time in the one place where I could be sure I wouldn’t run into any other people—Premier’s tower.

  During the time he’d spent in Alexandria as the king’s advisor, before he made his move to take over the city, he’d taken one of the castle towers as his private living quarters and workroom. Cleaning out the tower and making sure it was clear of any leftover spells or traps was a way for me to kill time while the library was restored.

  I also searched for any clues Premier might have left behind about what his ultimate goals were or what he planned to do next, but I didn’t find any. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. I’d only found out after he was defeated that the Premier here in Alexandria was only an avatar—that he’d been projecting his personality, power, and essence into it from his stronghold in Masep.

  Once I was done cleaning it out, the tower also gave me a quiet place to practice my powers and meditate. I labored to access the powerful, frightening black fire that had allowed me to defeat Premier. For some reason, I couldn’t. That both reassured me and worried me. I was afraid of the power rising up and going out of control, but I also wanted to be able to access it if I had to face Premier again.

  The only person who would visit me in the tower was Krystal. It was one of the few places where we could be alone together. But she would never stay long. She had her duties to attend to, and after what Premier had done to her, I didn’t blame her for not wanting to spend time in his private space.

  I lifted a hand to my mouth, trying to stifle a yawn. I failed.

  “Tired, lad?” Jastillian asked from the other side of the table. The weathered dwarf lowered the book he had buried himself in. His beady eyes shone with energy. He never tired of paging through ancient books.

  “A little.” I glanced at the sun outside the window, then back at him. The sun had reached its peak. Where had the time gone? “How do you always have more energy than me?”

  “As much as I love exploring the lands the gods have created and digging for artifacts, researching is half the battle. And you know how we dwarves crave a good battle.” He laughed. “Books like these transport me to faraway lands and times. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being a historian, it’s that you must do your research.”

  “Hey, I found something interesting,” Demay said. The young elf poked his head up from behind the huge tome he held. He grinned at us, his long ears twitching in excitement. Of the four of us, he hated being confined to the library the most. “This says that Renak used the Wastelands’...nexus?” He peered at the book again. “Nexus, that’s right. He used it to fuel the spell that holds the Great Barrier. And according to the scholar who wrote this book, that’s what’s responsible for the barrenness of the Wastelands.”

  Jastillian, who had perked up at Demay’s announcement, slumped back down in his chair. “That’s just a theory, and not a widely accepted one. I’ve never seen any definitive evidence put forward to support it. The dominant theory is that the Wastelands are the result of the War of the Wizards and all the mana drawn from the land in its final battles. And, of course, those foul creatures lurking there.”

  “Maybe,” Demay said. “But the Wastelands are growing—you know they are. Look, here’s the border of the Wastelands when this book was written.”

  He laid it down to show me, and I looked at the map he pointed to. I was shocked. The book showed the border to be miles from the city wall. Now, the Wastelands ran right up to the city’s northern edge. I turned to Jastillian. “Is this accurate?”

  He looked at the map as well, and then flipped to the front of the book to see when it was written. “Aye, well, lad, I wasn’t around then, so I can’t say for sure. But even in my lifetime, the Alexandrians used to have farms north of the city, all abandoned now. The land’s no good for growing any more. Still, the idea that anyone, even Renak, would do a spell that would result in such devastation would be...unbelievable.”

  Jastillian was right. As wizards, we had a responsibility to the world and those around us. I couldn’t imagine even Renak purposely doing a spell that had the potential to erode the land on the scale of the Wastelands. On the other hand...I drummed my fingers on the tabletop.

  “What is it, lad?” Jastillian asked.

  “Well,” I said slowly, thinking, “I don’t know much about the kinds of enchantments used to create something as big as the Great Barrier. But I always wondered how the spell had survived Renak’s death. When a wizard dies, any spells he has in place usually die with him. That’s why it’s so important for us to get to the White Mountain and secure it. Now that Stradus is gone, all the protections he put on the mountain and what’s inside are gone too.” I turned back to the matter at hand. “But if Renak powered the spell off a nexus, then that might explain it—a constant source of power. But a nexus draws its power from the land around it. A spell the size of the Great Barrier could possibly draw the mana faster than the land can replenish it.”

  Jastillian stroked his beard. “Fascinating. No scholars have ever put forth that theory.”

  I grinned. “I guess they never asked a wizard before.” Which wasn’t surprising, considering that, as far as I knew, Premier and I were the only wizards left on this side of the Great Barrier. My grin faded, though, as I thought about the implications. If I could bring down the barrier and restore the land, that could lighten the burden on Krystal’s shoulders. The Wastelands would recede again, and the creatures with them. She and her people wouldn’t have to worry about so many attacks.

  “Jastillian, when you traveled the Wastelands, did you ever find the nexus, or hear of where it might be?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Sadly, no. It would be a great find if I did.”

  “Maybe it’s in Masep,” Demay said. “You said yourself you’ve never been there.”

  “Aye, but many went there after the war. I’ve never seen any records suggesting they found the nexus there.”

  “But—”

  “Brother, please.” The fourth person at our table, the elf Prastian, gently closed his book and laid it down on the small pile of others next to him. “We’ve been reading these books to get a better understanding of what we’ll be facing in the Wastelands, and to find something that will help us get safely to Masep and defeat Premier. We don’t have time for theories, however fascinating they may be. If you didn’t want to be in here, you could be outside, sparring with Behast.”

  Behast was also an elf, but one who had been raised by dwarves, so his favorite thing was beating on people with his sword. Tired as I was, I’d rather be in here leafing through books than out there with him.

  “I’m sorry, Hellsfire,” Demay said, staring at me with his green eyes. “It’s just I’m a little tired and I miss the forests.”

  I put my hand up. “It’s all right. I’m just glad you three and Behast are brave enough—and foolish enough—to venture with me into the Wastelands.”

  Jastillian grinned through his thick gray and brown beard. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world, lad. We have a chance to do what no other has done in centuries. Great songs will be sung about us. I can’t wait.”

  “Me neither,” Demay said. He pushed the book in front of him to the side. “It’s far more interesting than reading these boring old books.”

  “We’re coming along because Hellsfire needs our help,” Prastian said. “He’ll need our protection and our ears, plus Jastillian’s considerable experience.” His long, pointed ears twitched. Elves were famous for their hearing, and if you were worried about monsters sneaking up on you, it was good to have them at your side. And Jastillian had spent years traveling in the Wastelands, dressed in the skins of dead goblins to disguise himself from worse things.

  The dwarf frowned. “I still think we should kill Premier. I would love to even the score, even if it wasn’t my axe that did i
t. It’s foolish to leave such a deadly enemy alive.”

  “I’m sorry, my friend,” I said, wanting the same thing. “But it was Stradus’s last wish. He said Premier would still be of use in the days to come. That he would play a part in my destiny.”

  Jastillian crossed his arms, frustrated. “I know. As long as we take the fangs off that snake by taking his book from him. I can’t wait to see his reaction when you bind his powers.”

  We all shared a smile. None of us could wait for that. Premier had been nothing but pain and trouble.

  “My biggest worry is I’m not sure how useful our goblin disguises will be as we approach Masep,” Jastillian said. “There are too many creatures, and we’ll have to get too close to them. It’s why I’ve never been to the city or deep into the Wastelands.”

  We were silent. We’d had this discussion many times. Even though Premier was weakened and his control over the creatures loosened, there were still thousands of them. King Furlong had wanted to send his army to Masep, and it had taken many late nights of arguing in the council chamber to convince him that a small party was the better choice. The army’s numbers were already diminished because of the recent battle, and they would have no reinforcement from the dwarves or elves. Neither Queen Lenora of the dwarves or King Sharald of the elves saw any reason to send their troops into the Wastelands.

  A smaller group would have the advantages of secrecy and speed. I had tried to find spells or potions that would conceal us from the Wasteland creatures, but there were none to be found in my spell book or in Alexandria’s library. The only option was to check Stradus’s library and workroom in the White Mountain. There might be artifacts or weapons of power that could help us. Unfortunately, that was going to take time, and it could be dangerous.

  With Stradus’s death, the magic used to enchant and protect the White Mountain would have dissipated. With his safeguards gone, deadly creatures from elsewhere in the mountain could have found the caves where he and I had lived. I needed my friends’ help in case we ran into them when we were there.