Christopher's POV

Christopher used the hilt of his sword to hit the soldier  in front of him on the side of his head. The man went down with a thud and stayed down. He continued on his march through the stone castle without a second  glance at the man that now lay unconscious.

Things could be worse for the man. He could be bleeding out to death on the floor rather than just supporting a concussion. Luckily for him, Christopher didn't like unnecessary bloodshed. He didn't go out of his way to kill people. Unfortunately that was more than he could say for the rest of the soldiers in his company.

The King's right hand had sent out their small raid party to seize the Dilston Castle. They were attacking under the command of King William.

The Duke of Colchester was one of the fewer remaining noblemen that still resisted the Conquest of Normandy. Their guild was sent to take over the castle and take the Duke to King William, where the man would most likely be questioned for his loyalty to the king and forced to show his devotion to serve for the king or face the consequences and be executed. His gold was on the latter.

Christopher made his way through the stone halls of the castle to reach the keep. The Duke of Colchester had ran into the heart of his castle to hide when he had undoubtedly received the news of their arrival.

Even with the force they brought, it didn't take a fool to notice how quickly the fall of castle Dilston would occur. Resisting the reign of the new king had taken it's toll on the village. Without the support from the neighbors, the trades were limited, crops had less farmers to take care of them and the soldiers that dared to defy the king and his army were almost slim to none. It didn't help that Duke of Colchester wasn't a noble man that people lined up behind to serve either. Consequently the barricade of soldiers were easy to overcome when they had pushed their way inside from the dense forest surrounding the north side of the castle.

Christopher ordered his men to hold back the guards flanking the Duke.  As one of the few knights that served under the King's name, the soldiers followed his lead. He had proved his loyalty to his men as he bled and shed blood during countless battles besides them. The numbers of knights were dwindling during these times of war for the King's overtaking and the experience and knowledge of knighted men were valued.

That was one of the reasons why a week ago a letter had arrived with the king's seal ordering the capture of Colchester, addressed to him. In it's ruined state, a small band of soldiers were dispatched under the command of Christopher and had travelled for a few days until they started their march into the castle. Their army was standing by on the outskirts of Colchester, waiting for their return before marching back to the King.

The Duke was trembling with fear and Christopher could see that he was trying his best to hide his emotions. Like any other noblemen, he was dressed head toe in jewellery from a gold crown to rings and clothes made from rich wools. The armour he had on him was just as lavish as the rest of him and mostly intended for display than the battlefields. Not a dent or scratch on the breastplate to be seen.

As Christopher closed the distance between himself and the Duke, the profusely sweating man lunged to Christopher with a small knife that he was holding behind his back.

Christopher quickly parried off with his long, steel sword. The duke tried to swing his knife from right again but his obvious inexperience on sword fighting quickly made itself known.

In less than a second, the small knife of the duke was separated from his hand by Christopher's sword. With the blow, the duke lost his balance and fell to the floor with a thud and lost his grip on his knife which clanked on the stone floor beside him.

Christopher was standing above the Duke of Colchester in the next moment and his shining sword was angled at his neck. He tipped his sword upwards, raising the man's chin higher, baring his vulnerable neck.

The Duke's eyes widened in fear from his apparent predicament and began begging, "Stop, Stop! Don't kill me!"

Christopher quickly cut the man off by saying, "We have no plan on killing you Duke." And at hearing this, the Duke visibly relaxed. "The King simply wants to talk with you and has asked for us to escort you to the castle."

And with that, the Duke's face drained of colour as fast as he had relaxed.

"No." The Duke started saying. "That Norman bastard is not my king! I will not heed to his wishes. No!..." As the man continued sputtering his objections, Christopher stopped listening when something caught his attention.

He lifted his head and looked outside from one of the tall, glass panes of the castle.

There, on the dusk lined blue sky, something red was shining. He couldn't quite make out what it was but as he squinted his eyes, he could swear that whatever was flying was on flames.

He didn't know why it captured his attention so much but Christopher couldn't tear his gaze off of the falling red sphere covered in flames.

It was like a falling star. But those were only visible at night and this seemed much closer than usual stars. It was quickly descending to the ground and it was so close that it disappeared from Christopher's sight at the forest behind the Colchester Castle.

A moment later, the ground shook with the force of what had just fallen in the forest. The soldiers that were fighting swayed on their feet a little bit and surprised sounds rose from people around them.

After the trembling ceased, the soldiers continued on fighting but Christopher wanted nothing more than to just go into the forest and find what had hit down to Earth with such force. There were no armies with catapults within the border of this region, the army had secured the neighbouring villages in these past weeks. This couldn't have been a catapult.

He called out to two soldiers that were standing to the side of him and told them to take the Duke away. Christopher gave orders to the rest of his men to take the guards prisoners and to head back to camp. He told them that he would meet them at the camp on the outskirts of the forest later.

After he made sure the soldiers were following his orders, he quickly left the castle and mounted his black horse.

Without really knowing what he was riding towards, Christoper galloped his horse into the forest. By the force the castle had shaken, it couldn't have landed far.  The burnt wood smell was already spreading. He rode towards north and just as he had guessed, it wasn't long before he arrived to where the red flames had struck down.

The surrounding trees were burned to ash and crackles could still be heard from the dying embers on the grass surrounding the area of impact.

He slowed his horse down and dismounted him. With a pat on the horse's neck he said, "Stay here."

The horse neighed and obediently held his ground as Christopher cautiously made his way forward. There were burned leaves on the ground and broken branches on trees.

He followed their trail, getting closer to the center of it.

As he side stepped a large oak tree, he saw what had shaken the ground so profoundly. But it was who, rather than what.

A few feet away from where Christopher was standing, a female was lying on the ground. The ground around her was blackened to the colour of ashes. The force with her body that had hit the ground had left a deep indentation.

But what made Christopher stop dead in his tracks was a pair of wings that were emerging from her back. Big, glorious, magnificent wings that had white, pearly feathers on them. His next breath caught in his throat as the realisation dawned on him.

An angel. Christopher couldn't believe his eyes.

All reason seemed to go against his claim but there she lay. An angel before his eyes.

Christopher looked high up in the sky to make sure she had really fallen down from there. He still couldn't comprehend the situation fully but as his gaze returned to the angel, he realised that her divine wings were still on fire.

He muttered a curse under his breath for not realising it sooner and quickly made his way over. He slid down from lip of the ground next to her. As he got closer, Christopher realised that her body did not adorn any clothes. The angel's beautiful body was laid with nothing to obscure it.

He was sure this angel before him was Aphrodite herself. For he could not conjure up a more beautiful sight than this.

Christopher was hypnotised as got even closer and knelt down beside her. She had fiery, red hair reaching down to her waist in silky waves. Her white, smooth skin was perfect and it was not marred by anything, anywhere.

Christopher slowly extended his hand to the ethereal beauty before him, scared that it would disappear like a dream as soon as he touched her.

She didn't disappear as Christopher gently brushed the red strands of hair that hid her face. And as soon as he saw the face of the angel, he lost all the air in his lungs.

He was certain no one would ever find words to do justice or even come close to describing her beauty. She seemed to be crafted from the materials of dreams and hopes themselves.

Long eyelashes on her closed eyes, an elegant nose, and a full blush lip that called to be kissed. Her cheeks were flushed and her skin glowed ever so slightly.

Christopher remembered to breathe when the angel's soft lips parted and breathed in air as well. The angel took her first breath and as Christopher took in air as well, his brain started functioning again.

Her exquisite wings still had embers in them and the white feathers were burning. Christopher quickly took his metal chest plate off and then took off his tunic.

With the wool fabric, Christopher took out the remaining burning flames on the angel's wings. Before soon, all of the fire was out and that gave Christopher time to lean back to examine her wounds.

The blunt of the fall seemed to be taken on her wings. Some of the feathers were black from burning and some of them were falling off. The ones that were burned to ashes and falling off were disappearing in the wind. It left no sign of the feather behind. And as twisted and damaged they seemed, her wings were still the most magnificent sight he had ever seen.

Christopher left the angel's wings and leaned down next to her face again. He couldn't help himself as he reached out and tenderly brushed the side of her cheek.

So soft and so smooth as if her body had been made from clouds. And just as Christopher was revelling in her beauty, the angel stirred.

Christopher's eyes darted to her eyes to see if she was awake. Her eyelids fluttered the tiniest of bits but did not open.

Her lips parted and Christopher leaned in a little to hear if she was going to say anything.

Her lips moved slightly as she uttered in a foreign language. Christopher could barely make out the phrase from her hushed tone. She was saying it unconsciously.

She said it again, this time a little bit louder, it sounded foreign and unlike any language he had heard but her voice could be heard clearly and it sounded like a soft wind carrying the news of rainfall. Light and calm, and mesmerising to all ears that listened.

The angel's brows furrowed slightly and her lips parted as in a silent scream. It looked like she was in pain. He had barely laid eyes upon her but seeing this beautiful creature in pain ached his chest.

"I'm sorry." The angel said, this time in his tongue. And just as her pained expression had come on her face, it was gone. Christopher knew that she was unconscious again.

Then suddenly, the angel's white damaged wings started to turn black and burn to ash. He had put out their fire, but still as if an invisible flame burned them, they crumpled and dispersed into the wind. Christopher watched with wide eyes as the great wings disappeared until there was no sign of them. Not even a scar remained where just a second ago two great wings were attached to her silky white back.

Once her wings were gone, Christopher thought she would look more like a human but that was not the case. Her beauty and ethereal aura stopped anyone from making the mistake of classifying her with people like Christopher.

Even without her wings, anyone could tell that there lay a mighty creature under her skin.

Christopher snapped out from his dazed state and took his only remaining shirt off. It was his white under shirt and he pulled it out from his pants.

He had to return back to the camp or they would start looking for him but he couldn't leave her alone, lying on the ground, in the middle of the forest either.

He decided to bring her with him and get her wounds tended to. Christopher didn't have extra garments with him, thus his undershirt was the only clothing he could offer the angel.

He gently pulled the garment over her head and dressed her in it. The garment only managed to reach a little above her knees.

It wasn't anywhere close to decent but it would have to do. Christopher didn't want to think what would happen if he happened to bring the angel to the camp without any clothes on.

He looped his arms under her knees and back and lifted her, close to his chest. Picking up his metal breast plate, he returned back to his horse and tied his armour on to the saddle. Then he gently lifted the angel to the saddle and mounted after her.

The angel was sitting sideways on the saddle in front of Christopher and he was securely holding her in place. After he made sure she was comfortable, Christopher turned his horse and started riding back to the army camp.

************

Helloo 👋

I really wasn't planning on the first chapter being this long but I just kept on writing :D

Anyways this is a new book idea I had for a while and I finally decided to take it down from the draft shelf.

The picture is Christopher and he is holding the Duke of Dilston on his sword's end.

I hope you like this new story and please vote and comment to let me know what you think.

Love you 💙