Tales of a White Mage

Sands of Blood

(Chapter 4)

Deronis was losing. He had thus far made an admirable effort in containing the unstoppable force that was Marchelute, but he was reaching the end of his bag of tricks. It had been over 45 minutes since the start of the fight. Deronis had only managed to drag it out this long by using hit and run tactics, forcing Marchelute to chase him back and forth across the sands. After nearly losing an arm to one of the demons wild attacks, Deronis hadn't dared to attempt to re-engage him in close range combat. Blood was flowing steadily from a deep wound in his shoulder, and several lesser injuries all across his body. His white magic would keep him alive, despite the blood loss, but he was exhausted. Physically, and even worse, magically.

Grimacing, he pulled himself together for another round. Marchelute was currently stuck in a patch of sand Deronis had soaked with water, using a minor spell of the dark arts he had learned during his studies abroad. While he was normally hesitant to use any such spells, he did know of them, and how to use them. In a situation like this, he was sure his goddess would forgive him for using a small amount of black magic.

Deronis stumbled slightly as he tried to stand. 'Only ten more minutes. You can handle that, their lives depend on it.' Deronis thought to himself. 'And so does yours.'

His thoughts were rudely interrupted by a wild scream of rage, as Marchelute broke out of the impromptu quick sand and ran into Deronis with his shoulder. Consumed with rage, Marchelute threw down his sword and began to attack Deronis with his bare hands. Deronis was pummeled mercilessly until Marchelute finally lifted him off the ground and threw him right in front of the wall of flames that had been created to cage in the fledgling adventurers, who had been turned into mere hostages. They looked on in horror as Deronis lay on the ground in front of them, dying.

Deronis looked up at Marchelute as he slowly stalked towards the prone mage, intent on beating the helpless mage to death. He could hardly see through the blood in his eyes, and he could feel the life leaving his broken body. Through all the pain, he never once broke his gaze from the eyes of the demon Marchelute, as he continued moving closer. In mere moments, Marchelute was right above him, looking down upon his fallen enemy. The three young adventurers abandoned all hopes at survival as Marchelute drew back his fist, prepared to finish the heroic mage off for good.

"Benediction!" Deronis screamed with a hoarse voice, his throat as bruised and beaten as the rest of his body. An intense white light surrounded not only Deronis, but the three adventurers as well. They suddenly felt lighter, as though they had been fully rejuvenated. As satisfying as the return of their health was, it was nothing compared to the restoration of their spirits. There, in front of them, Deronis stood completely renewed. Hope was still alive.

Driven back and stunned by the sudden white aura, Marchelute didn't know what hit him as Deronis pushed forward, pounding at him with his blessed hammer with renewed vigor. Deronis's physical strength had been completely restored, and Marchelute was unarmed against his sudden and unexpected attack. Deronis let loose a flurry of hammer swings with a strength he didn't know he possessed, each impacting on the defenseless demon with a force that would crush stones. As he pulled back his blessed hammer for another swing, however, Marchelute's fist caught him squarely on the side of the head. Stunned, Deronis could do little to defend himself as Marchelute once again took the offensive, pounding on Deronis with his bare fists. As Deronis was thrown backwards from the sheer power of the attacks, he looked up and saw that Marchelute was completely unharmed, despite having been hit with his best efforts.

Deronis nearly abandoned all hope at this point, but as the sky began to lighten and grow brighter, he realized that his attacks had served another purpose. Dawn was nearly upon them. He only needed to stall the demon for a few more moments, and then nature would finish the job. An idea was slowly beginning to form in his mind. He had once studied a dark spell which might be able to incapacitate Marchelute long enough to suit his purposes. However, being a dark creature himself, Marchelute might be able to escape the spells effects before the sunrise. It was a gamble that Deronis had to take.

Backing away from Marchelute as he continued his deadly advance, Deronis thought back to the training of a powerful old black mage he had come across in his travels. 'You must be at one with the elements. It is from them that true power is obtained. Your god can not help you with this task, young white mage. Nature is the benefactor of elemental magic, not any deities.' Blasphemous, Deronis had thought at the time. Still, desperate times called for desperate measures…

Drawing power from the air around him, the sand under him, from the very elements themselves, he began to gather energy for one last spell. As his power began to reach heights they had never known before, he pictured the spell he wanted to cast in his mind, above a burning seal that represented the forces of the elements. As the seal and the spell combined, he looked Marchelute in the eye and shouted "Bind!" Dark magic more powerful than any he had ever cast before rushed through Deronis's veins. Tendrils of pure darkness reached up from the ground beneath Marchelute, covering his legs and torso, rendering him immobile. With a roar of fury, Marchelute struggled against the bonds of darkness, but to no effect. He was stuck fast.

Exhausted, Deronis collapsed to the ground. 'I can't believe I did it.' He thought to himself. Behind him, the three young adventurers were laughing and crying at the same time, ecstatic to have survived the night. As the sky continued to lighten, Marchelute struggled in vain against his dark chains, roaring in anger. So it was that when Marchelute suddenly stopped yelling, and even struggling, that Deronis began to be concerned. A dark aura of unimaginable strength seemed to be growing around the devilish creature, and a wicked grin had broken out on its face. Determined to face whatever new threat this may be, Deronis wearily got back up on his feet.

The demon looked at Deronis with such malice and hatred that it actually startled him. The darkness surrounding Marchelute suddenly swelled, and then just as quickly, shrunk down to the size of a small ball in his hand. "Dimensional Death." The demon uttered in a voice that no living thing had heard in over one-hundred years. The ball of darkness shot out at Deronis and engulfed him in dark flames that burned away his armor and flesh.

Deronis didn't scream as the spell tore at his body. Not out of any kind of toughness or courage though. The air in his lungs had been superheated and burned his throat and chest from the inside out. Pain unimaginable was all that Deronis could comprehend. The last thing Deronis saw, which filled him with some measure of peace, was the sun rising over the sea cliff.

As the sun rose on a new day, the three young adventurers watched in horror as two beings were both encased in flames and fell to the sands, dead.

In a wordless vow, each of them looked at the fallen mage and pledged to remember the sacrifice he made for them, without even knowing their names. They spent the rest of the day burying the dead, and erecting a small monument of stones where the white mage was buried. They agreed to travel back to Selbina and tell the story of the white mage to all who would listen, in hopes of determining if he had left and surviving kin. With one last look back at the sands covered in blood, they began the long walk home.

Next chapter: Epilogue