The last room

"Haren" The single accursed word rang through the air setting off every biological warning system Badurad had. The air surrounding the mage was a pale blue. The room exploded with a rapid torrent of water that sloshed around the far side of the room swaying from side to side until the water rushed towards Badurad. Badurad without thinking kicked off of the second cultists and managed to reach the back of the room. The water was rushing at him with a vengeance. It would kill him if it touched him. The time he had bought would be valuable but it was running out. Badurad thought. He thought of anything anything to help him out of this any technique to help him anything to stop this water. He thought of the years of training in the prodigies, USELESS! All the fights he had been in, USELESS! Even the story books he had read as a kid, USELESS! All of it USELESS in the face of water. He was going to die from water. He had fought goblin armies and hordes of mages and water was going to kill him. The water was nearly at him now. It was maybe an arms length from him. Badurad stared down his impending doom, a wave. His life flashed before him. It wasn't like what he had been told. It was a quick voley of all his memories. Then it focused on one memory in particular. It wasn't a particularly happy memory. Itr was about two months after his sister had been born. He was sitting there with his mother in front of a fire. He just held his sister for the whole night and drank his boiled water. He cradled the warm clay cup as the steam... steam... STEAM!

He stretched out his arm towards the rushing water and closed his eyes. Flame rushed from his palm but it was quickly overwhelmed by the crushing speed of the water. He needed more. He needed more fire. The hope that was being crushed made Badurad scream. He let out a ferocious roar, his voice distorting with rage. He cried out "Burn Burn Burn Burn BURN BURN BURN BURN BURN BURN BURN BURN!! BURN IT ALL!" The flames danced out of every inch of his body creating a vortex of flames that expanded outwards pushing back the water like a wall. However the immense heat caused Badurad to drop to his knees. There was still more water that flew towards him. Badurad opened his palm once more and the fire came rushing out. His gloves disintegrated and the steam burned his hand but badurad kept pressing on pushing through the pain and the exhaustion and pressed forward to the mage who started chanting frantically. To stop this badurad shot more fire at the mage setting his robes on fire and replacing his chants to screams and screeches of pain. Badurad snapped his fingers and drove his sword into the chest of the charred cultist mercifully killing him. Badurad stumbled backwards and collapsed onto a chair. He sat their for about five minutes until he stood up and turned his attention to the next door.

Badurad pushed the door again revealing another room. Hoping to god that there weren't more cultists he looked around the room. He let out a sigh of relief as he saw that there were no uniformly clothed cultists with books clutched to their chest ready to unleash a volley of magic spells. Instead there stood a man. He was standing in front of an altar. The floor was scattered with the bodies of women and children. They had all been cut through the gut leaving entrails to spill out of a gaping hole. Badurad had to bring his hand up and force himself to not vomit at the horrifying scene. There was a kid strapped to the altar. He was wriggling and squirming to avoid the strangely shaped dagger held by the man. The man himself was wearing black robes that dragged along the floor. It had a hood that was wider than the man's head. The man was wearing the skull of an animal, Badurad guessed that it was a lamb or goat. Seeing the child Badurad flung his hand in front of him and flames shot from his hand in routine fashion. Graham twisted his head and saw the flames. Then in a split second shadows swallowed the man and he disappeared. The flames were now heading for the child so Badurad snapped his fingers and the flames disappeared as quickly as they had appeared.

"Well that was amazing such mastery at such a young age." The voice crept from behind Badurad, as Graham rested his head on Badurad's shoulder. Badurad swung his sword around to where the cultist was standing but again the man was swallowed in shadows. "Well how rude I am appalled. I thought they taught you better in Dedenford. Aren't all their knights nobles." The man was now perched on the tip of Badurad's sword. Badurad reached out with his palm and again flames jetted outwards and again it was in vain. "Ah no it seems you're more. How do I put this? Rough. But you are from Dedenford right? well I suppose that doesn't mat..." Graham's speech had been cut short by yet another slashing attack from badurad and yet another teleportation spell from Graham. This pattern continued a volley of attacks from Badurad followed by the mage teleporting away with a snide or sarcastic comment. "Well this was fun but I feel like our play time has come to an end." Graham levitated upwards to the ceiling and a barrier formed around him. The air was illuminated by a bright white light.