Fiend Angelical

• Steven Kyriazis, Grade 10, North Rockhampton State High School
• Short Story
• 2015

Excellence Award in the 'Read Write Repeat 2015' competition

“Commander Meradahl!” I screamed. The shining arrow had pierced his chest, and now quivered there like a final ray of sunshine, beautiful before darkness. The Commander’s black blood began to flow freely from the wound, dripping down his demonic armour. His face had been frozen in shock since the arrow had struck his breastplate, but only now it seemed to register the fact he had been hit. His knees buckled under him, his tail flopped limply to the ground with the rest of his body. His skeletal horse crumbled to dust under his collapsing form, no longer supported by the Commander’s thoughts. His horns clicked against the cold, marble ground, and the black blood began to pool into a large puddle around his body. Yes, he was a demon. But the angel who shot the arrow was something much worse.
His name was Lieutenant Samandriel, and his cold, emotionless face did not betray any remorse that the serpent heart with a flowering face may have for the crime he just committed. Even though it was unlikely that such an unfeeling entity like an angel could fathom any emotion other than distaste for us demons. We had never done anything to act against the angels. It was simply because we were demons. This war that raged on around me was by the order of Gadriel, the Angel King. He was responsible for the carnage and death that had ensued. I dismounted my horse and ran over to the Commander. He was still breathing even though the dark blood had formed a black halo around his bulk. I tried to pull the arrow out of his chest, but it seared my hands on contact. The Commander turned his head toward me.
“Maraxar, is that you?”
I tried to hold back my tears. The same Commander that had trained me from a spawnling was now lying in front of me, dying.
“Yes, sir,” I said, my voice trembling.
The commander seemed to smile, and his tears flowed as freely as the blood from his chest.
“You have grown so much,” he grasped my hand tightly, “Go and show them how much of a demon you have become.”
The strength that had grasped my hand left him, and he exhaled one final time.
I sat back in disbelief. This is how war goes. War is senseless violence and death because of differing beliefs. People you care about murdered because they are on the opposing side.
I didn’t want to stand up. I didn’t want to fight. Those angels had a family, too. They had friends, just like us demons. I just wanted it all to end. Then I looked at the arrow protruding from the Commander’s chest, and his lifeless eyes staring up into the sky.
I stood up. I looked at Samandriel, still smugly firing his arrows of death. I drew my twin swords. I spread my wings, leaped into the air, and screamed with all my rage as I charged.