When Angels Fall (Demon Lord)

by Southwell, T C

  Majelin watched Bane march off, pondering the tales he had heard about urthdrae. The commonest was that, once they fell, the darkness corrupted them, and there were disturbing stories about the changelings having strange abilities. The tar’merin might be able defend himself against them, but if they attacked him in the village he would probably end up destroying the place and killing all in it, unless they fled quickly enough. Bane, he could tell, was becoming extremely fed up. Nothing had gone right for him since he had come to rescue Majelin, and he suspected that, on some level, Bane blamed him for it.

  The archangel gazed at the village again. Changelings were supposed to be extinct. The tales about them were aeons old, from just after the Times of Reckoning. Ordur had forbidden human-angel marriages, yet the village’s inhabitants were definitely urthdrae, and they had children. While urthdrae were not accepted in angel or human society, it was still unlikely that they would choose to live in such a strange place, cut off from the rest of creation.

  Urthdrae were reviled and pitied because they knew the consequences of falling in love with a human, and most thought them insane to give up their abilities. The reason for the changelings’ need for additional life force was the mingling of angel and human blood, as different as night and day and highly incompatible. Without a constant source of life force, the children wasted away. He wondered who had made this haven for them, if it could be called a haven. What must it be like, to have your life force drained by your children, and be condemned to produce more of them if you stayed with your beloved? The dilemma was worse for angels, being immortals. When their human spouses perished of old age, they had to deal with the products of their ill-advised union alone.

  Majelin stole closer to the village, noticing a well-worn path that most likely led to a stream. He made his way around the settlement and followed the track, wary even though he was unlikely to be in immediate danger. A few hundred yards down the path, a movement in the forest ahead made him step into the bushes and become invisible.

  A pretty red-haired girl came into sight, laden with two buckets of water, and she appeared to be entirely human. Changelings changed, though, so he watched her until she almost passed him before stepping forth. She stopped with a gasp, her pale green eyes widening.

  “Do not be afraid,” he said. “I mean you no harm.”

  She stared at him for several tense moments. “You’re not a changeling.”

  “No.”

  “You’re fallen?”

  “No. I am the archangel Majelin.”

  “An archangel…” She studied him with patent fascination, her eyes lingering on his hair, and then cocked her head with a slight frown. “How did you end up here?”

  “I came here by accident, and I wish to leave. How do I do that?”

  She shook her head. “You don’t.”

  “Why?”

  “The portal is one way.”

  “Where is it?”

  “It will do you no good.” She continued to scrutinise him. “Where are your wings?”

  “I was a dark god’s prisoner. Please… just tell me where the portal is and I will trouble you no more.”

  “So you’re fallen, but through torture?”

  “No… not exactly.” He hesitated, loath to recount the tale of his suffering. “My torturers took my wings.”

  “So, you’re a full-blown archangel. The changelings will feast on you when they find you.”

  He hid a shudder. “They will not if I leave.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Perhaps I could find a way.”

  She brushed past him and marched off. “Are you a mage?”

  “No.” He followed her. “Could a mage get out?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just a human.”

  “But your beloved is an angel.”

  “He was.” She stopped and set her buckets down. “He’s dead, and so is our child. Now I’m just food for the damned changelings. They take more from me because I’m alone.”

  “If you help me, and I find a way to escape, I will take you with me.”

  “Don’t you think we’ve tried to escape this place for centuries?”

  “That does not mean I will not,” Majelin said.

  “I’d say it makes it a fair bet.”

  “What do you have to lose by telling me where the portal is?”

  She eyed him. “You’ll never find it on your own. I’ll have to show you.”

  “Will you?”

  “Now?” She glanced down at her buckets.

  “Leave them. You will not need them if I find a way out.”

  “I suppose so. I’m Andriss, by the way.” She set off back up the path. “You seem confident.”

  “I have a few tricks up my sleeves.”

  “I’ve been here for five years, but it seems like an eternity. It’s been torture since Fryth died.”

  Majelin doubted that she knew the true meaning of torture.

  “We were only together for two years,” she continued, glancing over her shoulder. “We were unlucky.”

  He winced inwardly at the sentiment, that a child was a curse to be dreaded, although in the case of changelings, she was right. Such was the lot of urthdrae. “How did he die?”

  She pushed past a bush. “A changeling killed him.”

  “Do you know who made this place?”

  “No idea. Some god, I suppose. Do you really think you can find a way out?”

  Majelin knew he would have to tell her about Bane, and thought it best to do so in small doses, to ease her into the shocking truth. “Actually, I have a friend, and I think he can do it.”

  “Another archangel?”

  “No… but he knows how to use magic.”

  “A mage.”

  “Of a sort,” he hedged, not wanting to lie.

  “An odd companion for you.”

  “We were sort of… thrust together.”

  “So, how did you get here?”

  He hesitated. “A trap.”

  “A black trap?” She cast him a startled look.

  “Yes.”

  “Then your friend must be a powerful mage.” She stopped and swung to face him. “He’s not a black one, is he?”

  “Um… Does it make a difference?”

  “Yes! The magic of the portal is blue. A black mage won’t be able to use it.”

  “Ah. Then no, he is a blue mage.”

  She scowled. “You seem uncertain. How can you be uncertain?”

  “Uh, well, I am not. I just was not sure which one was right for the portal.”

  “So he is a blue mage.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Andriss continued down the path, and Majelin wondered if he had just made a monumental blunder. He could not tell her the truth, however, and perhaps the dark god could find a way to change the portal. Majelin knew little about magic or powers, since angels had none, and even less about mortal gods, never mind tar’merin. A mortal tar’merin was so unheard-of he doubted anyone knew much about Bane’s abilities. If Bane could not use the portal to escape, though, they were well and truly trapped.

  “Where’s your friend?” Andriss enquired.

  “I told him to wait in the forest. I did not want to attract the changelings with too much life force.”

  “A wise decision, although the adults can sniff out a living being leagues away.”

  “How many adults are there?”

  She grunted. “Not too many. Most die in puberty. Things get much worse when they become adults.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, they require more life force, for one. Their parents can’t provide enough, so they hunt… other things. When they go through puberty, though, things get very weird. They get stuck in one form or another for days, and sometimes they get stuck in a half and half form, then they die.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “No one knows. Maybe the two halves are incompatible.”

  “Could be…”

&nbs
p; “We need to fetch your friend if he’s the one who can change the portal.”

  “Yes. Show me the portal, and then I will fetch him. You can wait at the portal; that way you will know I cannot leave you behind.”

  “It’s quite far.” Andriss led the way into a sizeable clearing with a stream on the far side. Majelin stopped dead, and Andriss halted a few paces further on. Four changelings lounged beside the brook, two girls and two boys, who all looked about ten years old. The girls sat on the rocks and trailed their fingers in the water. The boys appeared to be sharpening sticks.

  The changelings’ eyes flicked past Andriss to Majelin, becoming intent. He wanted to spread the wings he no longer possessed and leap into the air, or into a Channel. He stepped back, his blood chilling. The changelings’ faces resembled angels in their inhuman refinement, but had a brutal caste, hinting at a savage side. Two of them had blue eyes and two golden, one of each sex, and one was a brunette, while the others were blond. They were huskier than angels, especially for children, but their cheeks were gaunt. The girls wore shapeless grey shifts and the boys were clad in loose brown trousers and shirts. One girl had stunted wings, and, even as he stared at them, her face became more human, with a broad nose and pouty lips.

  Andriss shot him a horrified look. “They must have tracked me here.”

  The archangel turned and sprinted into the forest, his heart hammering as quick footfalls pursued him. He risked a glance back. The changelings ran lightly, their strides long and powerful, far faster than a human child of their age, but then, they were probably older than they looked. Immortal blood would slow down their maturation and extend their lifespans. He was usually able to outrun most, but he was weak and his injuries sapped him. Even so, he stayed ahead of them for perhaps a league, heading towards Bane’s location, he hoped. Leading the changelings to him was probably a bad idea, and most likely fatal for them, but in his panic he did not care. At that moment, the thought of crispy fried soul suckers was most appealing. Majelin slipped on the treacherous leaves and narrowly avoided colliding with a tree, and the changelings gained.

  He bellowed, “Bane!”

  His lungs burnt and terror squeezed his labouring heart. After five hundred years chained to a wall, his stamina was not what it had once been. “Bane!”

  Majelin skidded again and fell, rolled down a gentle slope and thudded into a tree trunk. As he lay winded, trying to suck in air, the changelings gathered around him, whispering. He wondered how they fed on life force, dreading his first experience of the enervating drain when he was already so weak. A girl knelt beside him and peered at him with what seemed like concern.

  “Why did you run, angel?” she asked.

  “I… You… Why did you chase me?” he gasped.

  “You ran. We thought it was a game, did we not?” She looked up at the others, who nodded.

  “It was,” Majelin said in an attempt to allay their suspicions. “And you caught me. Well done, children. Let us go back to the village now, hey?”

  “Did you just come through the portal?”

  “Yes.” Majelin was sure that if he told them he was not urthdrae they would drain him to death.

  “Where is your mate?”

  “She… went for a walk.”

  “You let her go wandering alone in the forest? It is not safe.” The child seemed almost normal, and her friendliness surprised him.

  “Why not?”

  She giggled. “There are animals, silly.”

  “Right, right, silly me.” Majelin glanced at one of the boys as his face became more angelic.

  The girl leant closer and sniffed him. “We should go and find her.”

  “She prefers to walk alone. It clears her mind.”

  “You smell good.”

  Majelin cringed despite himself. “Thank you. You are right; I should go and find her. Hurry back to your parents now.”

  “Would you like to feed us?”

  He wondered if changeling children always asked so politely. “Um, not right now; I need my strength to search for my wife.”

  “What is her name?”

  “Ah.…” His mind was blank. “It is… um… Sarmalin.”

  “Do I frighten you?”

  “No, of course not; why would you? You are just a child.”

  “I am seventeen.”

  “Exactly.” He wanted to shout for Bane again, and wondered if the dark god had heard him.

  “And I am a changeling.”

  “Well, you cannot help that.” He forced a smile, hoping it did not appear as sickly as it felt.

  “My father is an angel.” Her human face melted into an angelic one, and she leant closer, her nostrils flaring. “But you are more, are you not? You are an archangel. My father told me about your kind.”

  “Yes.”

  “I am hungry.”

  “Later, all right? I must find my wife.”

  She giggled. “We do not need your permission. We only play with you.”

  “I must go. Excuse me.”

  The girl lunged at him, gripped his head in a vice-like hold and clamped her mouth onto his in a violent kiss. The strength drained out of him in a rush, and he went limp. She released him and jumped up, and the archangel shuddered as one of the boys moved in for his turn, unable to fight him off or even move his limbs. More strength drained out of him, along with much of his will to live. The boy seemed to suck it from him, his soft lips wet, and when the child sat back Majelin wanted to vomit. The next girl crouched over him and fastened her mouth onto his, and everything went black.

  The Demon Lord looked up at a faint shout from the direction of the village, turning his head to listen. It sounded like someone calling his name, and the only one who knew it here was Majelin. He rose to his feet as a second distant shout came, able to get a bearing from it, and loped in that direction. Without power, he could not form an Eye or far-see, and he cursed the dense forest. After several minutes, the soft sounds of giggling and voices came from ahead and to the right, and he veered towards them, slowed his pace and silenced his footfalls. A few yards further on, four strange children came into sight, one of whom crouched over someone on the ground. They fell silent and turned their heads to gaze in his direction, as if sensing his approach. Bane stepped out from between the trees, drawing in blue power, since he was loath to take up the shadows again unless he absolutely had to, and four children hardly rated it. They stared at him. Majelin lay at their feet, his eyes closed.

  “Get away from him,” Bane ordered.

  The youngsters glanced at each other and smiled, and the tallest girl licked her lips. “Now we have a bonanza.”

  “Now you have a problem,” Bane retorted. “Move away from him, now.”

  “Oh, we are finished with him,” she said. “Now it is your turn.”

  Their shifting faces and forms revolted Bane, and their boldness annoyed him. Raising his hands in a sweeping gesture, he unleashed twin streams of blue fire that engulfed the boys. They screamed and collapsed, writhing as their skin sizzled, clothes charred and hair frizzled. The girls retreated, their eyes wide. Bane was somewhat surprised by the changelings’ ability to withstand fire, wondering if they had inherited it from their angel parents. The boys scrambled to their feet and fled before Bane could strike at them again, the girls hot on their heels. In truth, he was reluctant to burn children, changelings or not. He approached Majelin and bent to check his pulse. Finding it strong, he settled on a log to wait.

  Awareness returned to Majelin in waves, and, when a particularly strong one washed him into the light, he opened his eyes to stare at the leafy canopy, on the brink of passing out again. He fought the encroaching darkness, birdsong wafting to him faintly, as if it came from a great distance. The pale, hazy spot that served as a sun moved a fair distance before he could summon the strength to sit up, swaying. Every iota of energy had been sucked out of him, and he gazed around, dazed.

  The Demon Lord sat on a log nearby, looking bored.
“Not clever of you to get caught,” he remarked. “Are you all right?”

  “No. I have no strength. They ran faster than me. They are monsters.”

  “That goes without saying. Did you find out how they get here?”

  The archangel groaned and flopped back. “You are a heartless monster.”

  “What do you want me to do, hold your hand?”

  “There is a portal, unless the girl lied.”

  “Where is it?” Bane asked.

  “I do not know. She said she would take me there, but led me to the changelings instead. I think they almost killed me.”

  “I think you will recover.”

  “She said it is formed with the blue power. Can you use the blue power?”

  “Yes.”

  Majelin heaved a sigh. “Then we just have to find it.”

  “It will not be that simple. It must be a one-way portal, and I am not a blue mage. I have only dabbled in the blue power, so I will have to figure out how to change it, if it is even possible.”

  “You have got to get us out of here before those bastards drain us dry. It is the most horrible experience I have ever had, save for the torture.”

  “They regretted meeting me.”

  “Ugh.” The archangel’s stomach heaved. “What did you do to them?”

  “Only singed them a bit; they do run fast.”

  “Right now, I am glad you are worse than them.”

  Bane stood up. “Let us find somewhere to rest while you recover.”

  Majelin nodded, but it took him several more minutes to gather enough strength to climb to his feet, his legs shaking, and follow Bane deeper into the forest. They made a rude camp under a particularly dense tree, and Bane reclined on his cloak, summoning a cup of ambrosia to sip. Majelin eyed it, surprised when the dark god offered to share it. He held the cup while the archangel drank, and the creamy fluid restored a lot of his strength, healed his injuries significantly and filled him with a warm glow, all of which told him that its source was the white power. The light in the sky, or, presumably, roof of this weird realm descended beyond the forest and vanished, plunging the pseudo-world into darkness that only a few bright spots in the sky relieved. He stretched out on the soft leaves and closed his eyes.