Angels Fall First
“Needed elsewhere
To remind us of the shortness of our time
Tears laid for them
Tears of love tears of fear
Bury my dreams dig up my sorrows
Oh Lord why
The angels fall first.”
The ballad sounded through Malik’s mind again. He couldn’t figure out what its purpose was and this was beginning to eat away at his thoughts. The sad melody was recited by the seer in the elven city on the day he left, yet it was still haunting his conscience. Not wanting to distract his thinking from the journey set upon him, he pulled the reins and slowed the horse to look around. The ends of the black trench coat he was wearing flapped around his legs in the wind blowing through the valley. Malik moved a hand to push a hair out of his face and looked around. The pony tail on the back of his head moved around in the breeze as he slowly scanned the area with a pair of brilliant dark blue eyes. Spotting no danger, he kicked his black leather boots into the side of the horse, and they were off again. Rolling the sleeves of his coat up past the elbows as they go, it revealed the black leather bracers underneath. This better be worth it in the end, he thought to himself as he rode through the forests. If the rumors aren’t true, then this will be a big waste of my time.
It had been a couple months since he had made his way back through the northern mountains of Norvetta from the lost city of the elves. Staying with them for almost a year, living with them, learning from them, and in return giving them his tragic tale: he had lost all of his friends and family and his home when the rebels struck his remote
Upon arriving, he found a number of buildings erected over the ashes of the town. It turned out that these buildings housed a small band of rebels. His heart, still broken from memories of his loved ones gone forever, thirsted for revenge. Drawing his sword from its sheath beside him, Malik blindly charged into the camp striking down a number of people before the rebels finally were able to surround him. They captured him and threw him and threw him in a holding cell within one of the buildings. He spent many days there, all the while being questioned for his actions, his purpose, and his past. They received nothing from him but glares of hatred and angry curses. It stayed this way until the group’s leader returned from a long scouting mission.
Lykaios had a reassuring aura about him. His appearance was similar to Malik’s, but with lighter colors than his. His trench coat was grayish-dark bluish color. His pants were more of a grayish- blackish, and his boots were a light gray with silver guards on front. As for extras, he had two silver shoulder armor pieces that had straps running across his chest, making an X, and connecting with his belt. His straight, shoulder-length hair was a grayish-bluish. His eyes reflected the same color, and he had a smooth face. He had an older look on him though. He had his sleeves rolled up past his elbows like Malik normally has, but he was wearing no bracers. Instead, he wore only dark leather gloves that almost matched his coat. Upon Lykaios’ arrival in the camp, he was told about the prisoner the group had captured and how he had injured a number of their soldiers. He paid Malik a visit and tried to talk with him. The conversation started like the ones before, with the person asking questions of Malik and receiving no reply. But Lykaios told Malik that he was the leader of the band of rebels and that he was quite influential within their army. He asked for Malik’s concerns and received an explosion of emotion form the depths of his soul. He retold the terrible story of his lost village and the cremation of his mother, the journey he had taken into the mountains to escape, and, most of all, how alone he was now in the world. The soldiers in the camp thought that their great leader had finally broken the prisoner, but Lykaios saw it differently. He saw what no one else had seen: the terrible longing for family and friends that were dead and the fear of being alone. Much to the shock and dismay of everyone in the camp who had witnessed the skirmish between Malik and the soldiers of the camp, Lykaios accepted Malik into their group and treated him as his son.
It seemed that the rebel army only was aiming to get their voices heard by the royal family and the people of Cussono, not to take over. Their story was that of myth and nightmare. According to their group, a demon army had risen from nowhere and had begun a bloody march across the continent, killing anything and everything in their way. They had sent messengers ahead of them to the royal family as a warning, but they were ignored due to the fact that their story was so outrageous. So as they returned to their fleeing country to the west, they relayed the news. Without missing a step, they simply drew their weapons against everything they crossed paths with as well, and eventually made their way into Cussono. Apparently, they made peace with the king instead of completely destroying the city. The rest of the story, in short, was actually quite simple. They began to rebuild, and they sent Malik out to see if he could find out where the demons had stopped and why.
That brings Malik back to the present time, where he is making his way through the valley north of the main road that leads through the forest from Cussono to the western land on the other side. He started to think of what the elves had told him when he made his little detour north back to the
Malik has now been traveling for many days. He has been making his way through the legendary foggy mountains that border the west coast. He was making his way up the tallest of the mountains he had come across, and was nearing the top. These mountains are endless. he thought to himself. The elves told me to make sure a make my way to the top of every large peak to see where I am, but the fog is too thick! As he arrived at the peak, he wasn’t prepared for what happened next. Ahead of the mountain, the fog cleared, and Malik was finally able to see his destination. But his destination was in flames. He was too late. “So it seems the war has destroyed another city…” he said quietly to himself. As he gazed at the destruction, a figure landed by a boulder near the spot Malik was now standing at. His good hearing caught it, and he turned with his sword drawn to face the unknown figure. As he looked closer, he realized that this person had large white wings growing out of its back. An angel. His heart began to pound as he noticed that the poor thing was covered in blood and very weak. He sheathed his sword as it looked to him with golden eyes. “What happened to you?” Malik asked the angel as he slowly approached.
“They…they…killed so many…” he breathed in jagged breathes. He stumbled and Malik rushed forward to catch him.
“What did this? Who was killed?” he asked fearfully. A chill had started to run down his spine when he saw all the blood, and now he didn’t like what was beginning to unfold.
“The demons! The demons…they came and attacked our people…” he replied, tears starting to form in his eyes. The scenario was going from bad to worse. The legend spoke of the demon army reeking havoc and destruction about the land. But when all hope seemed lost, the angels appeared and brought hope back to the land. They helped to fight back against the demons, and they ultimately finished them off and sealed them back in the fiery pits of hell from whence they came. Ever since then, their tribe has been recognized as a symbol of hope.
“What happened?” Malik quietly whispered to the angel as he held him in his arms.
“The demons attacked our city out of nowhere…We were able to kill the ones that had made it into the city and…we fought them back. We closed the gates…and we held out in the siege. It seemed like they were going to give up, but then…they received reinforcements that dwarfed the size of the original attack force. We only held out a couple days after that…I managed to escape…but I won’t…make it farther than this…”
“Yes you will! Don’t give up yet! Let me help you with your—”
“No! You have to carry my message to the elves…”
“The elves?”
“Tell them…the demons…have taken...Graceadonia..." he shuddered for a moment, looked deep into Malik’s eyes, and he fell limp. He was gone. Malik laid him gently on the ground and closed the angel’s eyes. He leaned over him and made a silent prayer.
“Be at peace my friend, I will deliver your message.” He stood up and walked back to his horse. He hopped up and looked to the burning city. “What happens now? Do we have any hope left?” he said quietly as his eyes began to gleam with tears. He turned his horse away and began the long journey home, all the while thinking of the angel who died in his arms and of the burning city. All hope seemed to be lost in the flames of the burning citadel of Graceadonia, as the angels fall first.
* The lyrics in the story are taken from the song Angels Fall First by the group Nightwish, a Finnish symphonic metal band.
