What Once Was One (Book 2) (2 page)

“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 it. 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.

I hated the idea of taking more time to go through Stradus’s library. Every day that went by meant that Premier was that much closer to regaining his power. If only King Furlong or Princess Krystal would allow me into Alexandria’s magical archive. Over the years, they’d collected a legendary cache of magical artifacts, scrolls, and books, safeguarding them so wizards wouldn’t misuse them. I could understand the king not wanting me to have access to the archive—he didn’t know me or trust me the way Krystal did. But the princess? It hurt, after all we’d been through and after all I’d done for her, to have her turn me away as if I were another Premier or Renak.

I also needed to return to the White Mountain to finish off the binding potion for Premier. I had found some of the rare ingredients here, but the others could only be found in Stradus’s garden.

“Hopefully, we’ll find something tomorrow,” Prastian said. “We haven’t learned anything here that Jastillian doesn’t already know.”

Demay pushed against the table and stood. He stretched his short elven frame and yawned. “I need a break.”

“Me too,” I said, rising and doing the same thing. “Would you like to come with me to the marketplace?”

Demay nodded.

“Do you two want anything?”

Prastian peered at Jastillian, who shook his head no. “Thank you, but we’re fine.”

Demay and I left the library and walked the stone halls of the castle’s keep. My heavy feet clattered against the floor, but Demay’s light footsteps didn’t make a sound. Demay greeted the guards we passed by. Their stony faces relaxed and they returned his greeting with a nod. Some of them even acknowledged me, which is more than I got from the servants who passed us. They edged by, not looking me in the eye.

The stone halls were decorated with great tapestries of dragons, Alexandria’s symbol. Right before the exit into the courtyard, I lingered at a mural of Shala fighting Renak in the War of the Wizards. I ignored the sensationalized streaks of red and blue lightning shooting out of their hands, and concentrated on the background.

Shala stood on fertile ground, full of grass and lush trees. Renak stood in a barren and desolate place. Clearly, the builders of Alexandria believed that Renak had caused the Wastelands to be created. But how? I looked at Demay, still walking toward the courtyard, and wondered if the young elf could be right about the nexus and the Great Barrier.

I rushed to catch up to him and headed into the fresh air and sunlight. We walked by a giant marble fountain with a dragon on top, water pouring out of his mouth. My old friend Cynder, the dragon who had been Stradus’s guardian and companion, always laughed when he saw it. According to him, no self-respecting dragon would spit water instead of fire.

I searched the castle grounds, hoping to see the giant red dragon. He wasn’t in his normal, resting spot within the castle walls, next to his little shrine that the Alexandrians had erected to honor him. People constantly came to see him, giving him little carvings of himself, slabs of beef, whole chickens, and incense and candles. The people worshipped him, making him far more unbearable than he normally was.

We crossed near the practice yard, where a group of soldiers sparred with each other. Through the surrounding circle of people, I saw Behast fighting a Guardsman of Alexandria. Demay yelled to Behast, whose back was turned. Behast started to turn, and the Guardsman struck him, causing him to stumble and fall. Behast recovered and glared at Demay as we walked by.

“That felt good,” Demay said and chuckled. “He does that to me from time to time to remind me not to be distracted in battle. He’s made many an arrow fly wide.”

We continued downhill, from the keep to the castle walls, making small talk. We greeted a guard named Jerrel, one of the few who was friendly to me. He smiled back and we went through the open gates and under the killing holes.

Only a month had passed since the battle, and the city was still being repaired. The buildings of Alexandria all had a uniform look to them. They were square and block shaped, built mostly of stone from the Daleth Mountains, with little in the way of unique designs or elaborate decorations. Krystal had told me it was because all of their energy went into the fight to keep the Wasteland creatures at bay. They had little time or patience for frills and ornamentation.

We wandered through the wealthier districts of Alexandria that housed the nobles, merchants, and craftsmen. These buildings were far nicer than in most of the city. They were large and spacious, with grass and trees between them, and almost all of them had guards and gates.

We left that district and came to the more common part of town. This part of the city needed far more repairs than the inner city. The fighting had been heaviest here. Premier’s creatures had tried to hold the southern gates from inside Alexandria, against the allied army of dwarves, elves, and humans trying to liberate the city. The allies had broken through eventually, crusading their way to the castle. This area was bigger and housed more people, but there weren’t enough skilled craftsmen to go around. They were just now getting the castle into pristine condition.

Fifty feet from us, a crowd swarmed around a tall woman—Princess Krystal of Alexandria. A few of her guards surrounded her, including the captain of her personal guard, Ardimus, and her close friend, Captain Rebekah, but she was never in any danger. The people adored her. She was looking back and forth between a piece of parchment in her hands, and a building that had its roof caved in. As I watched, she began giving the workmen orders about what she wanted done. They dispersed and when she turned, her eyes met mine.

As always, I became lost in the princess’s enchanting violet eyes. The thumping in my chest increased, drowning out the chatter of the surrounding people. The air left my lungs and that inner fire within me burned brighter. It was only a moment, but she always made me feel that way.

She allowed herself a small grin and broke the eye contact.

I sighed, trying not to stare at her. I wished I could spend more time with Krystal, but we agreed that we shouldn’t be seen in public together unless it was during a special function. Our relationship was a secret, both for her sake and her father’s.

“Why don’t you go to her?” Demay asked, jolting me out of my thoughts.

I looked down at the little elf and raised my right eyebrow. Did he mean what I think he meant? I brought my hand up to my face and wiped the little droplets of sweat away. I wanted to smack myself. I was a fool for letting my look linger for too long. I cleared my throat and asked, “What do you mean?”

“We elves have a saying, ‘Heed the forest.’ That means be mindful of your surroundings and listen to what’s out there.” Demay had a small smirk on his face. “We all know about you and the princess.”

I stopped, and my back stiffened. “Have you or the others told anyone?”

He shook his head. “Of course not. It’s none of their business.”

I blew out a small stream of breath. I was thankful for that. I risked glancing back at her. “Things between us are...complicated.”

“That’s what my brother said too,” Demay said. The elf was silent for a moment. “In time, I think you can change things. You saved the king, helped save the city—”

“From another wizard.”

“From another wizard, and are going to make sure Premier is no longer a threat. You humans are overly emotional creatures, but you have short memories. They’ll remember what you did for them lately.”

“You think?”

“In time.” He smiled at me. “Jastillian even told me they’re writing a song about you in Erlam.”

I laughed. “Really?”

He nodded.

I shrugged, allowing a glimmer of hope to seep into my mind. “I guess anything’s possible then.”

We resumed our walk and finally reached the market. Although it was crowded, with people pressing in on all sides, there always seemed to be a space around me and Demay. I knew it wasn’t the fact that he was armed that made people edge away. It was the sight of my wizard’s robes, and their fear of anyone who wore them. I sighed and strode on to the booth selling honey bread.

A little girl ran in front of us, carrying a huge loaf of bread. She stumbled and dropped the loaf.

I bent down and picked it up. I dusted off the dirt with my hand before handing it back to her. I gave her a smile and said, “Here you go, little one.”

“Thank you,” she squeaked.

“Would you like to take some honey bread home with you?” I asked. “We were just about to go to that stall right over there.”

The little girl hesitated, but her face lit up when she saw the vendor and took a huge whiff of the smell of his delicious bread. She stared at Demay with huge eyes, her mouth hanging open. “You’re an elf!”