Johnathan had known, undeniably, that this time would come. He steeled himself against the aching pain that threatened to shatter his soul. What would he become, in the ring, to murder his own father? He imagined an image of himself as a wolf, a mirror of the creature his father was. He imagined both of them circling in the ring, teeth gnashing, huge bodies twisting in a dance of raw and bloody death. He told himself that he would not fight but he knew that he would, once he had changed he became the thing he had changed into completely. There was simply no Johnathan left. If he turned into a dragon then it would be with that dragon's lust for blood that he tore into his father.
He shuddered at the thought. To have come all this way just to mangle the man he was trying so desperately to save, or be mangled by him. It was a thought to terrible to bear. His mother's face swam on the edges of his mind, her wide blue eyes begging him not to answer the bell that was tolling in the stands above, not to heed the call to the arena battle. In the shadows of his mind he turned away from her. I'm sorry, his soul called. He knew both he and his father lacked the discipline necessary simply NOT to kill each other in battle. In their very being lay an uncontrolled sympathy with the creatures that they became. There was no mind in the monsters that sprouted forth from their bodies, only the mindless urge to to be whatever it was that they were and completely.
His father could no more deny the bloodlust of the wolf than Johnathan could control whatever thing sprouted from him on the wings of his rage and fear at the prospect of battle. Whatever he became, whatever manner of winged and fanged beast his body deemed necessary to win the battle ahead, he would fight to the death and with no remorse.
The bell called again, drawing him toward the fight. Already his body was churning in answer to the call of blood so readily offered. He looked at the weapons pooled for those who did not bring their own and chose a blunt stick. It wouldn't matter what manner of weapon he carried into battle. He would never use it. His body would change and he would sprout whatever manner of weapon, claw, fang, tentacle, it deemed necessary to survive.
He strode toward the light of the doorway that would lead to the battle ahead. His body smelled the blood from previous battles and his cells did a dark and happy dance that called for a swift change in form. His body began to feel less and less his own as he stepped into the golden ligh of the arena and his feet swept across the floor made of golden sand and sawdust.
His father was on the other side. Even from across the arena Johnathan could see the shadow of the wolf in his eyes.
" You should not have come!" David howled miserably, his voice was already deep with the change. The wolf was coming, unbidden and his father was helpless to fight the beast when the smell of blood and death was so ripe and rampant in the air.
Johnathan felt his own body changing. Dark hair sprouted from his body. His worst nightmare had come true. He would meet his father, wolf to wolf on the battle field. Those that had paid their well earned coin to view the battles in the arena today were going to get their money's worth. The carnage would be legendary, made worse by the fact that those watching knew that the battle was between father and son.
In the few moments where Johnathan was still himself he heard his mother scream his name. Then she was gone, along with the rest of his mind. A terrible pain roared through him as his version of the wolf came, in the distance he could see his father, bathed in the unnatural sunlight that he loathed, as did all creatures who bore wolf's blood. The unnatural change, the day change was well upon him and the beast within would be all the more fierce for having to face the sun.
Johnathan, the thing he was becoming anyway, felt the horrible agony of his bones breaking in his legs, turning backwards and then binding again. He screamed. The crowd in the arena howled in pleasure as the two combatants writhed on the ground in dark agony.
The thing that stood up in Johnathan's place was covered in a thick matting of darkly silver fur. It had a ebony streak on its broad back. It was well over nine feet tall on two legs, and it had large, yellowed fangs coming from its wide and snapping jaws.
The other monster wolf was inky black with slitted golden eyes that watched the creature standing across from it with a cruel and calculating intelligence born of its disconnected human brain. The David wolf was ten feet tall, broader than its oponnent, with long inky black claws ready to rip and tear into silver fur and the flesh beneath.
The came at each other on all fours and met in the middle of the blood splattered, saw dust covered arena. The Johnathan creature threw its head back and howled as the David thing tore at it with inky claws. Blood flew from the wounds in Johnathan's silver chest. He backed away and came at his father again, enraged.
Older and wiser the David thing watched the pup coming and turned suddenly, so that Johnathan passed him. David reached behind him with sharp claws and tore much of the fur and skin from the pups back.
Johnathan the wolf howled in agony. He whirled on his opponent quickly and tore at the other creatures throat with his sharp yellow jaws. He had a hold but the black on fought furiously, pain came from everywhere, as the creature tore into every part of him that was availabe and sought to rip him open in several place. Johnathan did not let go, he snapped harder until he had what he wanted the most. The creatures pulse beat strong beneath his teeth.
He had only to bite down to end this, and feast upon the warm blood and flesh beneath the skin.
High above, in the stands, nestled in the treasured place created only for the wealthy or politically important Calirath watched, his golden eyes mad with the desire to join the beautiful crimson fray playing out on the ground below him.
He smiled with sharp, golden fangs. The pup thinks he's won, Calirath thought, amused, but the older one, he's crafty, going for the heart . . .
The dragon wondered what it would be like to face the two of them at the same time, visions of blood danced like raw meat in his eager brain. A blood bath, he thought, envisioning his hard fought and well one victory. His smile widened as the silver wolf yelped, just now beginning to feel sharp claws digging into the the fleshy cage of meat and bone that protected his heart.
" Well fought young one," Calirath whispered to himself, " but now it is time to die."
Johnathan howled in agony and bit down on David's neck hard enough for sweet and salty blood to flow into his waiting jaws. He tried to shake himself free of the other's grasp and save his heart from being ripped free of his body.
The wolves stilled in the arena, each one held the power to kill the other instanly, the crowed drew back in silent awe, watching, waiting . . .
They . . .
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