The Tale of Daemonica

The Moment Before

She had always thought that before every important decision there was a moment that froze in time when it was clear to you that you were going to have to choose no matter how much you didn't want to. It is imperative for your will, by its decision, to push this moment back into the time where it belongs. Only then can the decision become the present, your own reality, the great Now, which can no longer be escaped. That was the kind of decision that hung over Daemonica's head now, and she felt it. Slowly, she began to accept what they were about to do. No... what they were trying to do.

She realized that Sorcerer's power could be truly unprecedented. When she was a child, she had heard and read many stories of wizards who came from the Xix.

In the lands of the people of Raia, it was possible to come across individuals endowed with the gift of magic quite often, especially in larger cities. Those born among the people of Raia most often resorted to healing, herbalism and study. But when it came to real combat, some of them could summon the power of the gods they worshiped and become deadly adversaries.

In the wild lands of the North, whose names changed so often that few of them caught on long enough to be recorded, in harsh conditions determined by nature itself, gifted wizards often appeared among men and women. Depending on what other qualities were innate to them, they chose, according to the rules of their own tribe, the path they followed all their lives, regardless of their wishes. In the end, the vast majority of them became either warriors who could boost morale among their comrades, let them forget their wounds, and plunge back into battle with a light heart. Or they became often insurmountable herbalists and healers, but their help was not easy to obtain. The people of the North were often hostile to the people of Raia, which was mainly due to their increasing efforts to expand south and conquer disputed territories on the frontier.

Then there were the wizards who came from the wasteland of Xix. The proximity of these people to the epicenter of an ancient magical catastrophe has predestined them to a much greater concentration of magically gifted people. Their power lay primarily in destruction in all forms, and rarely also in the temporary (fortunately) resurrection of the dead.

When she became a young lady, she spent many long hours reading about the lands of Xix, which, also thanks to her father's influence, fascinated her. Their magical superiority over the territories to the north was beyond question. Sorcerer (if indeed he had come from somewhere in Xix) could surely do a great deal in terms of magic, but Daemonica had also witnessed, just a few hours ago, what the beast they were now pursuing could do without any magic at all… She was beginning to doubt that his power would be enough to defeat the beast. Daemonica didn't even bother to count with herself.

She could no longer tell how many hours they were on the road. There was only sand all around them. It was a fascinating sight, but Daemonica was tired and her mind was still tormented by swamp scenes. And though it seemed to her that they were moving very fast and that the horses were relentless, she still doubted the chances of reaching their destination.

How much longer will it take? How long before they definitely run out of energy? And even if they found the beast, what would happen then? Fight... and probably the death of at least one of them. Yesterday, she saw with her own eyes what death can be like… She shivered. She didn't want to die, she wanted to live. She'd be willing to live anywhere and in any way. She would even forget her beloved Andala forever, if only she could live no matter how miserable her life would be.

The heat of the sun drove her mad. She thought the sight of them must be remarkable. Especially her. She, a young blonde woman, almost a girl, fair-skinned in the middle of the desert, her whole body and face stained with blood, unarmed, for she had long since lost it, only in a shirt and underpants, at the heels of the wizard in the gold-and-black robes before her, racing off to nowhere.

'Damn...' Daemonica thought. What if I turned the horse around, would he notice? He's quite far ahead of me, and he hasn't looked back at all the time, not once... He knows how weak she is. He'd had a chance to see it even twice before. So maybe he'll let her go... She's just a burden to him anyway.

But even if she escaped, would she be able to survive alone in the desert? How could she possibly know which direction to take when she had never seen a desert before? Supplies were almost nonexistent because they needed the speed. So how would she survive?

She'd die.. Only a long, lonely death would await her. She was dead certain of that.

Damn!

As if he knew what she was thinking, Sorcerer increased his speed sharply, and when Daemonica looked at the horizon, she saw the lone rocks, as if waiting impartially for them to reach them. The sun was slowly lowering towards the west behind them, and the desert sand had turned a blood-red color from the dying sunlight. They hadn't seen anything alive for hours, but now she thought she saw small groups of hyenas watching them closely, waiting.

They were among the rocks now. Sorcerer slowed his pace as if searching for something. And indeed. When the sun was long over the horizon, they stopped at one of the rocks that had been half buried in the sand. Now they climbed it. They had left the weary horses below, and Daemonica told herself that their fate was not hard to guess. The mage obviously thought the same. They stopped at the top of the rock, which was strangely flattened and gave a good view of the surrounding area. The first stars appeared in the sky. She felt the air slowly cool and the desert wind began to blow.

Daemonica stood nearby, watching him. Sorcerer stopped at the edge of the rock and stared westward for a moment with no sign of movement. Then he turned to her, as if remembering that she was here with him, and motioned for her to follow him. So she did. Her heart was pounding frantically in her chest, and her whole body ached from the day's wandering and, of course, the consequences of the night before. Sorcerer found a place where they could see the horizon in the growing darkness of the coming night. He sat down and nodded at her again.

They sat in silence for a moment, but Daemonica could no longer resist and asked the question she wished to ask him from the first time she saw him.

'Who are you?'

'Friend of your king.' He laughed softly, staring out into the desert. She already knew the laughter, and there was certainly no joy in it.

'You can't make me believe you're just that.' Daemonica didn't give up. Sorcerer finally looked at her. 'Why is it so important to you who I am?' He looked her straight in the eye, and his eyes reflected the icy glow of the stars. She was silent for a moment, biting her lips. For a moment she thought she'd seen that look before. But the moment was far gone, and she cried out to him in boundless despair:

'We don't stand a chance, do we?' Daemonica felt tears of despair creep into her eyes.

Sorcerer watched her silently.

'Why did you save me? Just to die a day later?... Do you hear me?!'

After a moment of silence, he finally answered, but his voice was chilling: 'I can hear you, Daemonica. But I told you once before that this is your fight. A fight that you will have to fight alone. That's the way it has to be. I'm only here with you because I'm supposed to be here right now. Don't ask me who I am. Ask yourself who YOU are, then maybe you will understand.“

She kept quiet. She was breathing rapidly, her heart pounding wildly. As angry as she was, she didn't dare to speak.

And then, out of the blue, she calmed down... and understood. There was a kind of comfort in that. She looked at Sorcerer, and he looked at her for a long time. It seemed to her that she could see, or better feel, all the lonely days of this man after great things had been done, blood had been shed, and a new order of the world had been established. Until it collapsed again. He was always there, watching, dying, and rising again.

Daemonica slowly closed her mouth, which she was opening in another verbal attack, and which she did not even know she had forgotten to close. She looked deeper into his eyes. He slowly nodded.

'I'm sorry, but that's the way it has to be.'

After a moment of eloquent silence, Sorcerer continued.

'Promise me you will fight. You have to fight no matter what. Do you understand me?'

Daemonica touched the sword beside her with a trembling hand, but could not answer. Panic engulfed her heart and made her tremble uncontrollably.

Something was coming.

Sorcerer was silent for a moment, then rose to his full height in an instant and now towered menacingly above her. And he looked pretty pissed.

'DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!' He repeated, and his voice drowned out all other thoughts in her head. Without thinking, Daemonica gripped the handle of the strange sword and rose briskly.

'Yes, sir.'

Soon after, she heard the screams of deadly frightened horses a few hundred feet away.

And then silence.