A cross-post today from my Patreon page, in a brazen attempt to lure you from the antechamber that is the FL blog into the Aladdin's Cave of true treasures. It is of course specific to the fantasy world of Legend from Dragon Warriors; other medieval imaginaries are available.
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How can you tell a faerie from a devil? The first thing is to ask why it should matter. The fays of Legend were once deities. They embody the gamut of human passions and, though capricious, they’re fond of wagers and contests and they are bound by codes of behaviour that oblige them to keep to the letter of an oath. (Pay attention at the back; these details could save your life.)
Devils on the other hand are not merely whimsical but outright malicious. They will lie and deceive and are so eager to break their word (unless sworn on a symbol of the True Faith) that their very contrariness is one of the few ways to outwit them.
Faeries fear cold iron and have a distaste for holy things. Devils fear faith and goodness and can be harmed and driven off by holy things.
But this world is not a place built on scientific principles. Ask a village priest if Ned from Gallows Wood (The Elven Crystals) is a goblin or a devil and he’ll tell you they’re the same thing: 'Whatever is not godly is ungodly.' What about a White Lady? Is she a ghost? A faerie? A devil? An enchantress? A pagan goddess? At this point our friend the priest may be fixing you with a suspicious eye and wondering where he’s left the holy water.
As most people take their lead in such matters from their priest, everyday folk don’t draw a conscious distinction between the fay and the diabolic. They might say, ‘Old Robin in the spinney, ’e’s no ’arm to man nor beast. Might occasionally carry off a baby, but only if it was set to be a wrong ’un.' Or alternatively: ‘If’n you see red eyes looking out at you from the ol’ barn, you turn tail and you run. Looks like a mangy cat, but that’s an imp right out of hell, that is.’
So in the acceptance of some locally cherished goblins you may sense an echo of the time when they were propitiated, whereas the devils that came tumbling along in the wake of early missionaries are shunned and feared.
Scholars are the only ones who would perceive and debate the difference. In Ellesland that means educated clergy or wizards or both. ‘The Gentle Folk are known to be shapechangers,’ says Brother Mulk of Osterlin, ‘but we might say they are more often met in a form somewhat like a man or woman, even if gnarled or covered in thorns, though also sometimes in unblemished forms of dangerous beauty. Devils enjoy appearing in the shape of a cat or toad or rooster, especially when acting as familiar to some damned soul, but they too will sometimes appear with two arms and two legs – often with the addition of little wings, horns, or cloven hooves. Bat wings, that is, bald and leathery; the Lords and Ladies, they’d favour gossamer wings if any. But none of these rules are hard and fast. The mortal form given to us by God is one they all like to copy, the only distinction being that it’s harder for devils to put on such a shape without some disfigurement to mark out their unholiness.’
'Faerie glamour is a kind of illusion, is it not?'
'No mere mirage. Faerie glamour is a weft and warp that overlays reality. If we are to call it illusion, it is illusion that fools the senses of the world. Devils, on the other hand, more usually manifest by possessing the body of a blameless creature. We have the example in scripture of the Gergesene swine.'
‘There are stories of bargains to be done with such creatures, both fay and devils.’
Brother Mulk throws up his hand as if to ward off a blow. ‘Devils bargain for one thing only, and for that they can never offer enough. It’s true that the others can be held to a deal, for their words are anciently forceful and have power to bind even themselves. Thus in parts of Chaubrette you hear tales of the sotay or sotré, a sprite that inhabits a household and takes a proprietorial pride in keeping it swept and the cows milked in just the same way that the lares and penates of the ancient Selentines watched over the family homestead. If you meet such a one, who may take the form of a wizened old man as swarthy as a charcoal burner, you must be careful to treat him with the nicest manners. Do not compliment him directly, but even more importantly do not slight his appearance or make any reference to his incongruous clothing.’
‘What about his clothing?’
Mulk admits he is only relating what he’s heard. ‘Perhaps they affect the toga of the Selentine nobles. But the strictest rule you must follow is never to draw attention to the unusual nature of the fellow.’
‘Is that why you refer to them as “the good people”?’
‘You know that the Kindly Ones were anything but. You would not call them by their older name. God is our protector, but why tempt fate?’
‘Is there no sure way to tell a faerie from a devil?’ you might ask.
Brother Mulk (no doubt wincing at the term ‘faerie’, for he is careful to respect the fallen gods even though he knows they can do nothing against the True Faith) might reply, ‘There are signs for those who would see. The reek of brimstone hangs around devils, for example, as they have always one foot in the infernal realm. And colours too may guide you. Green is often taken to betoken the elfin folk, while many take the red of licking flames to denote a devilish presence.’ He spreads his hands. ‘But nothing is certain.’
‘Except faith.’
He nods, a pensive frown on his face. ‘Except faith.’
