Tales of a White Mage

Sands of Blood

(Chapter 3)

Night had already fallen by the time Deronis reached the tunnel leading to the secret beach. The evil aura was almost palpable this close to the source. Even the goblins who normally set up camps in the area were nowhere to be found, driven away by an unseen evil.

Deronis continued onwards, though each step filled him with more dread. He almost turned back as he reached the exit of the cave, fearing the sight that would await him. Silently asking Altana to lend him strength, he ignored his fears and stepped out into the open, scanning the beach that lay before him. Bodies lay everywhere. There were at least 12 young adventurers who had been torn asunder. One of them wore the ceremonial plate armor of the white order.

'I was too late.' Deronis thought to himself, as he dropped to one knee and began to pray for the fallen. 'It seems as though the demon has slain them all, and returned to whence it came.' Though upset by the loss of lives resultant from the disastrous battle, Deronis could not help but be relieved that the evil presence had vanished, instead of lingering as he had feared. However, a sudden scream from farther down the beach made him realize that he, and possibly many others, were not to be so lucky.

Deronis sprinted down the dark beach as fast as he could, attempting to find the origin of the screaming. He came upon a small alcove where a small group of young adventurers were backing against the sea cliff in terror, as a black skinned demon slowly advanced on them. A demon, it just so happened, that Deronis knew by name. "Marchelute…" He whispered to himself. 'But that's impossible. My friends and I destroyed him!' His thoughts racing, he continued to run towards the helpless group.

The young adventurers were trapped. They, like many on the secret beach, were the best up and coming warriors who still trained in the Valkurm Dunes. When a member of the White order had come to them and asked them for help in defeating a single foe, they had been more than happy to oblige. They had scoffed when he sought out and asked two more groups of adventurers to aid him as well. Surely he didn't think that he would require more than their most capable help, did he? Seeing no harm in it, however, they accompanied him and the alliance of adventurers to a spot where he claimed a great evil lay dormant, waiting to be vanquished. They had laughed and urged him on. "Call out your great evil and let us be done with it." They had said. If only they had known.

When the demon came forth, the entire alliance had attacked it all at once, hoping to secure victory quickly and get back to training. Two of them were dead before they could even swing their swords.

Stunned at the sudden loss of their friends, the adventurers backed away and kept their distance. Deciding not to get close enough for the monster to swing at them with its terrible sword, they let loose a volley of arrows in hopes of taking him out from range. The arrows bounced off the black armor that the creature wore on its chest, and its simply looked towards them, eyes emanating a cold, ageless rage.

That was when the truth of the situation first began to dawn on them. Still, they thought that victory was not unachievable. Surely the powerful white mage would be able to harm the beast. Indeed, their spirits were truly raised when the armored mage began to gather white magic to himself and prepare a powerful banishing spell. However, when the young mage stopped his casting to look down at the sword piercing through his magnificent armor, and his chest, their spirits plummeted back to earth like stones.

The 'battle' from that point on had been anything but. The surviving adventurers scattered, attempting to flee from the battle. Four of them, the best and bravest, attempted one last charge. So it was that the best and bravest were the first to fall. One by one the demon hunted down each of the survivors, until only three remained alive. Now, trapped between a rock wall and a being which must surely be the devil himself, it seemed as though they too would die. As the monster slowly closed in on them, they looked up defiantly, determined to look death in the eye. Instead of death, however, they saw only an incredibly bright light…

"Holy!" Deronis screamed, as soon as he was close enough to attack Marchelute with his magic. The demon let loose an unholy scream as its flesh was burned by the destructive force of pure white magic. However, as the light faded, it was apparent that the attack had been little more than an irritation. The monster halted his advance on the young adventurers and turned to fully face Deronis, who had finally arrived at the scene of the battle.

The sight of a new white mage, for indeed it was not the same one they had met earlier, momentarily stunned the young adventurers. As they got over their shock, however, the looked at one another and nodded. Silently they all pulled drew out their weapons, determined to help this new combatant or die trying.

"Stop!" Deronis yelled at them. Confused, the group lowered their weapons slightly. "None of you are prepared to join me in this fight. Quickly, while his attention is diverted, you must flee from this area at once! Travel to Selbina with all haste and call for reinforcements."

The young party, after having seen the previous massacre, didn't need to be told twice. They immediately attempted to circle around the battle in order to make it back to the tunnel, which was the only way in or out. Marchelute, however, didn't seem to be content with letting his victims escape with their lives. Raising one hand, he lit the sand itself on fire, trapping the three friends behind the blaze. With nowhere else to turn, they could only stay and watch as Deronis and Marchelute prepared to do combat.

'Damn' Deronis thought to himself. In truth, he realized that he had no more hope of defeating Marchelute than the young adventurers did. He had simply hoped to delay him long enough for them to escape, after which he himself would have attempted to flee. His magic could indeed get him out of this situation, and teleport him back into the safety of Jeuno. Doing so, however, would condemn these young fighters to death, and that was unacceptable.

There was only one solution. Deronis would have to stop Marchelute by himself, impossible though it may seem. Steeling himself for what would most certainly be a harrowing fight, he prepared for the demons inevitable attack. His only chance would to be to drag the fight out as long as possible. Marchelute, like many beings of darkness, would be unable to survive in the open sunlight. During the day, he would be forced to seek shelter in a cave or otherwise protected area, or be destroyed. If Deronis could drag the fight on until dawn, which was still an hour away, it was possible that he could force the demon to retreat long enough to call for support.

An hour, however, is a very long time. Marchelute burst into movement, attempting to skewer Deronis as he did the last unfortunate white mage. Deronis, however, was more prepared, and the weapon was tangled in a shadowy image, which stole away all of its forward movement. Deronis's blink effect wouldn't last forever though, and he quickly jumped away from the demon and drew his blessed hammer. Diving towards his enemy, Deronis swung the hammer with all his might, only to be intercepted by Marchelute's sword. For several minutes the combatants fought with one another. Deronis was clearly out-classed in melee combat, as was evidence by the many strikes which Marchelute had already landed on him. Luckily, his magic had so far been able to protect him, with several blows being intercepted by shadows, and others bouncing off him as though he were made of stone. His enchantments wouldn't last much longer though, and he knew it. Sure enough, the next time Marchelute's sword slipped past his defense it glanced off his armor, still striking hard enough to bruise the flesh beneath it. Had it been a direct hit, it would have pierced the armor completely. The demons strength was monstrous.

Deronis gathered his magic to himself quickly, in a desperate attempt to buy some time. "Flash!" He yelled, as he threw his arm forward. Their, in his palm, a bright light that could rival the sun in its intensity blinded Marchelute, causing him to stumble backwards and cry in pain. Acting quickly, Deronis moved away and began the lengthy task of recasting his defensive enchantments. It wouldn't be long before Marchelute regained his eyesight, and he would be even angrier than before once he did.

Deronis had barely finished his casting when he was forced to duck beneath a wild swing from Marchelute. It was clear that he was still having trouble seeing, but enough of his sight had returned that he was once again on the attack. Deronis pressed his advantage though, and landed several blows while his enemy was having trouble fighting back. Despite having landed many solid hits though, he didn't appear to be damaging Marchelute at all. All he had accomplished so far was to push the monster into a wild frenzy. Though poorly aimed, the ferocious strikes were wearing Deronis down, forcing him back into the defensive.

The moon continued its descent in the heavens as the battle raged on. Deronis, driven by his desire to protect the defenseless, and Marchelute, fueled by his rage against all living things. It seemed clear to the three observers that despite his valiant efforts, Deronis was losing. Trapped between walls of stone and flame, the young adventurers could do nothing but pray that Deronis, a member of the holy order of white mages, could somehow pull off a miracle.

Remembering the fate of another member of the white order, however, they couldn't help but fear for the worst.

To be continued…