Dragon Fire, Angel Light
Shara Godwinson © 2017
All Rights Reserved
October 14th, 1066 A.D. The Battle of Hastings
The battle for Britain was done. The enemy had won. The fighting had lasted for nine hours, an unprecedented amount of time. When it was over, King Harold lay dead, and William of Normandy stood victorious over his slain enemy. However, for Willan, a humble Anglo-Saxon soldier, the battle was still very much ongoing. Willan lay on the slick bloody grass. He had suffered a blow to the head that had left him unconscious for some time. But now, he woke to find himself surrounded by his dead comrades and in a dire situation.
The Norman soldiers were walking the battlefield, seeking out their wounded and killing any of the enemy that they came across. His life meant nothing to them, and if they attempted to kill him, they would learn the truth about what he truly was. Still, he had no choice. If he stayed here, they would find him. If he got up and ran, it would mean a fight he was not sure he could manage, and he would still face destruction. He looked around as best he could. From his position on the ground, with the other bodies lying around him, his vision was obscured. If he rose even the slightest bit, he was sure that he would attract attention and probably get an arrow to the head, just like his king.
Someone drew near. Their footsteps rattled the fallen shields and armor. If he was going to move, he had to do it now. His weapons were lost to him, and all he had were his feet. He jumped up, but he was grabbed from behind and thrown back to the ground. A large armored foot slammed down on his armor-plated chest, knocking the air from him. The man standing over him raised his sword, ready to strike. Willan looked up at his enemy’s face. When he stared into his enemy’s eyes, he realized that he knew them.
“Marcus?” he cried, hoping he was right. That his words would stay the man’s blade. For Marcus was not a man either. Willan and Marcus were the same.
It worked, and the man knelt down by Willan’s side and gazed into his eyes as if not completely sure what he saw was true. Finally, he said, “Wit? Is that you, Wit?”
“It is, Marcus. It is Wit.”
Marcus stared at him again for a moment. Then he said, “Wait here. I will not hurt you. Wait here until after nightfall and I will come back for you. You understand, yes?”
“Do not move a muscle. You need to act dead.”
“I have to go report that all are dead in this area. I will be back for you. Do not move.”
“I will not, Marcus.”
Marcus left him then. Willan lay there and tried to think about the last time he had seen Marcus. It had been about a thousand years or so ago when they were living together in Rome. Marcus had been a soldier, and he had been Marcus’s servant. He had left the night that Marcus had hit him and Willan had decided he couldn’t take the other man’s anger anymore. He had loved Marcus, but Marcus…could Marcus love? He had loved being with Willan. But did he love me?
Marcus kept his word. After night fell, he came back to that place and escorted Willan from the field.
“I can’t take you back to the Norman camp,” he told Willan. “But there’s an abandoned castle nearby that will be safe.”
The Saxones had made many fortifications over the years. Some had fallen out of use, as the need disappeared. This one was down on the other side of a hill. On one side, the land could be seen perfectly well, but the back side pressed up against a small steep hill that sheltered the fortress from the back. That didn’t matter at the moment. Right now, it was unoccupied. They took over a guard room that was just inside the fortress gates.
Willan had been bloodied and bruised but had suffered no major injuries. Any wounds he did have would heal quickly, for that was the way of dragons. They could live for many millennia. However, they always had to hide in their human forms or remove themselves completely from human society lest they be found out. Revealing their true identity meant they would be slain, for that’s what humans did with dragons, despite the fact that dragons meant them no harm.
Marcus helped Willan remove his armor. There was a small stream running outside in the courtyard that Willan could use to clean himself a bit. As Marcus worked on removing his own armor, Willan slipped off the rest of his clothes and waded into the water. He scrubbed at the caked-on blood and mud. It had been a long hard battle, and most of his friends who had fought alongside him were dead. They had all been human, except one. Cadman. He wondered what had happened to Cadman.
Willan heard splashes and turned to see Marcus wading into the water as well. He hoped the other dragon would not come closer to him. His feelings about seeing Marcus again were still confused. While he was happy to find his old lover still alive, that did not mean he wanted to rekindle any relationship with him. Or did he? Marcus was still as beautiful as ever with his piercing blue eyes and strong features.
When Marcus saw that he was being observed, he smiled. “Do you still like what you see?”
Willan looked away. “I am merely surprised to see you.”
“And I you. I was trying to remember when I last saw you.”
“I do not want to remember that night,” Willan said.
“I understand. Still, I have missed you. Have you missed me?”
“In some ways, yes.”
“That is good to know,” Marcus said. “How long have you been here?”
Willan tried to remember. “Maybe nine hundred years. I am called Willan now.”
“A good name. It means wishes.” Marcus’s eyes glimmered as moonlight was reflected off the surface of the water. He moved toward Willan. “Have you wished for me, Willan?”
“I…” Before he could answer, Marcus wrapped his arms around Willan and kissed him. Willan did not resist and was soon kissing him back. He had missed this. He had not had a true lover in those thousand years since they had parted and had been quite lonely. It had been long enough for Willan to forget about the violent, unstable side of Marcus’s nature. He broke the kiss and took Marcus’s hand. Willan knew that if they made love in the water, Marcus would cause the water to freeze. Marcus was an ice drake, which meant that he breathed ice rather than fire. Willan didn’t want to be cold while they made love. He went back to where they had left their clothes in the guardhouse, spread out his tattered cloak, and lay down upon it.
Marcus knelt between Willan’s legs, then leaned over Willan and kissed him again. “I missed you so.” He prepared Willan with his fingers first, as he readied his love. Then he entered Willan. “You are beautiful,” Marcus said between his thrusts. Willan was in no position to respond. Marcus had never been a gentle lover. Tonight, he was being quite vigorous, and Willan was…really enjoying it. It had been far too long since he’d had something like this.
Unusually for him, Willan came first. Willan had always had rather silent orgasms, but this time, he did give a cry as he was overtaken by the sensation. Then Marcus released inside him. He was the silent one this time around. And when it was over, he nearly collapsed on top of Willan.
Finally, Marcus roused himself and lay beside Willan. “That was the best I have had in a while. Do you always yell out your ecstasy now, or am I special?”
“You have always been special. I have not really had anyone since you.”
“Really? A beautiful thing like you?” Marcus said as he ran his fingers through Willan’s black curls.
Willan’s chocolate-brown eyes met those cold blue orbs. “However, I think it is best if we part ways again tomorrow. I know that if I go with you, things will just be as they were. I cannot go back to that. It has been so very good meeting you again, though, Marcus. I will always remember this night.”
Marcus’s expression grew sad, but the show of emotion was fleeting. “Fine. I am glad to have seen you as well.”
Willan got up, put his tattered clothes back on, and lay down to sleep.
Willan would not leave him again. Marcus had decided. As he watched the other dragon sleep, he knew that he wanted him. Had to have him. Had to take him back to Normandy with him. He loved Willan far too much to watch him walk away again. He reached over and stroked his love’s curls.
“I cannot let it happen. You are coming home with me.” He got up and dug through a satchel that he carried with him always. He kept in it heavy chains that he knew could hold a dragon, at least for a while. And the building they were now in lent itself well to that. If Willan attempted to transform to break them, Marcus could quickly subdue him. It was perfect. There was even a large iron ring attached to the wall that he could tether Willan to.
He approached Willan and snapped one cuff around his wrist, closing the lock. Willan woke and tried to get out of Marcus’s grip, but Marcus hit him hard across the back of the head, knocking Willan into a half daze. He dragged Willan over to the ring and strung the chain through it, attaching the cuff to Willan’s other wrist and closing the lock. He helped Willan onto his knees, knowing it would be more comfortable. The chain was short, so Willan’s arms were pulled up at an odd angle and his body was forced forward. His head was nearly curled into his chest.
“What are you doing?” Willan asked groggily, wondering where the loving and tender Marcus of last night had gone.
“I have decided you are coming home with me. I cannot let you go again. I would miss you too much.”
“You cannot do that,” Willan said.
“I can and I will.” Marcus pulled some cloth bandages out of his satchel and wrapped them around Willan’s head as a gag. “Just relax. Soon we will be together forever.”
Willan did not want to relax. Especially after Marcus had wrapped another chain around his waist and pegged it to the ground. Willan protested loudly, but Marcus silenced him with a few good kicks. It was better to be silent than to be kicked. His legs cramped so badly, though. He was forced to lock his arms behind him so that they would not break, and breathing had become difficult in his bent-over position. But there was no escape from it at the moment. He could not transform to free himself. Marcus would subdue him. There was no getting away until he was out of this position.
It was an uncomfortable night. The position Willan was in didn’t lend itself well to sleep. Plus Marcus was watching him, his glistening eyes visible even in the darkness. It was incredibly disconcerting. Despite his discomfort Willan was exhausted, and finally dozed.
When he woke, it appeared that Marcus was getting ready to leave, gathering up his things. After what felt like an interminable period of time, Marcus came over to Willan.
“I know it is not comfortable for you, but you have to stay here. I need to go and arrange some things. I will come back as soon as they are finished.”
Marcus brought his hand down hard upon the back of Willan’s head. Willan fell into darkness. When he came to, Marcus was gone. Willan had no idea how long he had been out. Some time, he guessed, since the sun was high overhead. He struggled a bit, but found that it was impossible to pull himself free, as anything he tried threatened to wrench his arms out of their sockets. He could transform. It would break the chains, but probably his wrists too. Also, the process would take about twenty to thirty minutes, and afterward, he wouldn’t be able to fit through any of the doors. He would have to make the slow return to his human form before he could.
Someone was coming. He did not dare look up because he knew it must be Marcus. The person came closer, and a pair of mud-covered boots appeared in Willan’s line of vision.
A voice said, “Need a little help there, friend?” It was not Marcus’s voice. Willan looked up as best he could from under his curls.
“I have come to rescue you, Willan. Looks like you could use it,” he said. “I saw that man take you off the battlefield. I just could not track you in the dark. For a dragon, my eyes are terrible. What is he doing with you anyway? Ah, hold on a second.”
Cadman undid the gag around Willan’s mouth.
“Thank God you have come,” Willan said. “It is my former lover, Marcus. He wishes to take me back to Normandy, where I will end up his slave.”
Cadman reached up and broke the chains that held Willan’s wrists. He was in a better position to do so. Then he pulled up the pegs that held the other chain to the ground.
“We should go quickly then. I know of a place in Ireland where we can hide for a while, if you are strong enough to fly.”
Willan got up. He was bruised and achy but otherwise all right. “I can fly.”
“Then let’s get out of here and fly!” Cadman smiled. He slapped his young friend on the shoulder.
Willan stepped out of the guardhouse and into the sunlight. Cadman joined him. They both stripped themselves of their clothes, then Willan got down on his hands and knees. His back began to elongate, and his leg muscled bulged as they grew and reshaped themselves. Dark scales like a lizard’s appeared on his skin as a black strip of hair sprouted along his spine. From his shoulder blades, small nubs formed and grew into webbed wings. Willan’s five fingers bulged and his nails crooked into claws. His eyes became orange orbs with a dark slit down them.
When it was over, he was his true self. A twenty-foot dragon with dark scales and a sixteen-foot wingspan. He was smaller than Cadman, who was a fire drake and had at least twenty feet on him. There were other breeds of dragon, all larger than Willan—ice drakes, wind blowers who shot hot air from their mouths, and water dragons. He was a poison spitter, rare in the world of dragons, which meant that he could spit out amounts of an acidic poison at his prey or enemy. He could also do this in human form, but only at the most desperate of times.
Cadman stretched his wings and let out a loud roar. He flapped them several times and, with a slight running start, took to the air. Willan followed him into the sky. He had escaped a fate worse than death. At least for now.