The Dragon Comes (The Serpentine God #1) Read online

  The Dragon Comes

  The Serpentine God, Book One

  A W Victor

  One. To War

  Petrio slowed his breath, fear licked at the back of his throat. He opened his eyes. The dim caverns around him were cool and the air was damp. Beyond the smooth black platform where the ceremony was taking place, water spilled over a ledge into the clear pool beneath. The moisture rose up, his face was damp, and he itched to wipe it.

  Petrio stood tall, tallest among his kind, a proud broad creature. His black hair was slicked back to his neck. His black eyes glittered with blue light as the old priest before him knelt at the altar and began to murmur.

  The others behind him waited, as he had done many times before. Now it was his turn, he was to go forth as countless others had done before him and take his place in the war.

  Servants, old men, came forth, not looking at him. They undid his robes, those that had been his for all his adult life, and slipped them off him.

  His robes were magnificent, made of his scales, shed when he was in creature form, they had been collected and sewn in. They were black with an iridescent sheen, he was so large when in form that his robes trailed long behind him, longer than any other of his kind, and it made them so heavy that it took four people to carry them from him. He was left unclothed, he felt light, and itched to change into the serpent.

  The priest’s incantation grew louder. Knowing what was coming made his breath come quicker. He had trained over many years for this moment, all of his kind did.

  The servants returned to him, and bathed his body in scented water. They scurried away from him, afraid as all were.

  Beyond the mountains and caverns was a deep ancient wood and past which was the city where people lived. They came to the wood when taking rites into manhood, it was then that they knew if they were blessed or not. His mother had wept when he passed the test. She didn’t see it as a blessing, it was a curse, as it was to many. He had taken the foul black tea, and slept out in a ring of trees, surrounded by one from the wood, and there were several boys with him. As the tea had worked, he convulsed, and the first sign of change took over. He was taken away while the other boys were still lying in a stupor.

  Their land needed his kind, more than ever, but it was no good, most people could see it. They were dying out, his kind especially. There were so few left.

  Blue light glowed in the altar, the thick black shimmering liquid in the pool rippled, and he shuddered in response. Yet for all his fear, it called to him, there was familiarity to it, he was going home.

  The priest turned, bringing a cup forth. The black liquid was brought to his mouth and the others came forward, still wearing their robes, varying hues of blacks and reds, they held him still as the liquid was forced into his mouth. He jerked at the taste, but the priest held his mouth closed.

  The liquid filled his body and mind. For a moment, all was darkness, a well of infinite despair and horror was on him.

  He screamed out, his whole body fought it, he threw off the others, and the priest fell, but he never stopped chanting.

  They knew this would happen, it was part of the process, but he being the largest of his kind, they struggled to suppress him.

  He threw his head back and roared. His body began to change, he lost his precious control, but the priest put his hand to him, and he began to calm. The liquid took over, and he stood unmoving, his ragged breath the only noise besides the priest’s incantation. He was led with a dead stare to the font. It was large and square, cut into the cavern floor. He stepped into the liquid. It pulled at him like tar. It was the stuff of their creation, all the history of their species welled into liquid form. All the history of his people was known through it, their magic was born of it.

  People beyond were terrified of not just them, but the liquid, for it brought terrible power and death to those unworthy.

  Petrio gasped as he was pulled downward. An errant thought came to his blank mind, one of his mother’s tears when he had been taken from her. He was leaving everything of his life behind again, into the unknown, into inevitable death. He was a warrior, and now he would fight in the war that had ravaged their land. He had waited many years for this, but now he didn’t want to go.

  The moon of Valtinth was large in the sky. It had always been populated by others like them, but different. For eons, they had been a reflection of each other, but a thousand years ago, when Valtinth had been populous and thrived, they had attacked. For centuries, the creatures on both sides had warred.

  Few knew the lore, and fewer knew the truth, the populous at large, what few there were left suffered beyond measure, and never knew why.

  Whole cities were razed into nothing. Landscapes left scorched and barren. Whoever remained became nomadic, all making their way to the ancient woods and The Last City.

  They were a dying people, the last of the magic nearly spent, the nobility they imbued dwindling to a few.

  Petrio was the last of the great creatures, those that followed were lesser, but with him, they had hope, and so little news came of the war, they kept him until the call came for aid.

  He roared into the great void that engulfed him, the thick taste of the cup was nothing to the feel of it in his body, it poisoned his heart and mind, and then there was nothing.

  Two. An unexpected Arrival

  There was a strange rushing, like a waterfall, but he couldn’t breathe. He rushed upwards, and broke surface, taking a huge breath. He felt like he hadn’t drawn breath in a thousand years. He choked as he settled into floating in the water, all was cold and loud about him.

  He instinctively swam, not knowing where he was or why.

  He turned around, bobbing up and down. There were no priests to greet him, no war around him. No women, he had been promised them, as they all were. Nothing, just water, and buildings of some kind. He had not seen anything like it.

  He called out, he was afraid, for something was terribly wrong.

  He slowly became aware of pain, his whole body hurt. He was tired and he couldn’t keep swimming. The shore wasn’t too far, if he could change it would take seconds, but he had no strength, going through the portal took great power, and his was used up.

  He swam slowly, his muscles screaming all the while. Someone called. The voice was strange, and he didn’t know the words.

  A small boat, unlike anything he’d seen came to him. The whole place was strange, and he had a feeling that he wasn’t on the moon of Valtinth. He looked up at the sky, it was a pale blue with light cloud, he couldn’t see Valtinth anywhere. He was so confused.

  His eyes grew heavy, the boat that neared shouted gibberish to him, and he winced at the volume. He was pulled out of the water onto the strange bouncy surface, as though it was filled with air. A blanket was thrown over him. His teeth chattered and he fell back.

  The people who surrounded him looked strange, small, much as the people of home did, but they were less afraid, less weak in their appearance. The two men on the little boat wore uniforms, and kept speaking to him, but he couldn’t stay awake any longer, and he closed his eyes.

  The room was bright and he groaned as the light hit his eyes. He blinked. He didn’t know where he was, he tried to think back, but he couldn’t remember, the more he thought, the less he could hold onto the truth. He struggled to sit up, as he looked around him.

  The room was small and white, he blinked it into focus, and the light settled. He was in bed, and there were strange boxes with lights and noises around him. He grunted as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

  He hurt all over, and as he looked down, he saw he was covered in bruises. He had on a strange wh
ite smock of sorts, like a child’s gown. He grunted again. Ridiculous. His feet gave way when he stood, and he fell with a thud.

  Someone came in, a woman dressed in white. She was beautiful. He managed to stand.

  “Where am I?” she looked at him blankly and said something. No, he was not on the moon of Valtinth. His mind reeled with questions as his memory returned.

  She pointed to the bed, as she craned her head up to look at him. He scowled and grunted, but she only pointed, and looked fierce. He smiled and agreed. It was good to lie back down again.

  He wondered what had gone wrong during the ceremony, how many times had it gone wrong before.

  The nurse was saying something but he just shook his head. She left him eventually, and he sat in the quiet, trying to think over what happened, and what he was going to do.

  A few hours later, two men came into the room in similar uniforms as the men on the boat. They asked him questions, to which he asked his own, neither understood. He sighed and rested back. What was he going to do?

  He poked at the substances on the tray before him later that day. He looked up at the man who’d put it on his table. He was dark skinned with short hair. Petrio was fascinated, all the people of Valtinth were the same, pale skinned and dark haired, no colour to their black eyes. There were a few who bore a little amber hue, or in the light their hair looked brown, they were considered exotic, but not here, in the few hours since he woke up, he had seen a glorious array of people in varying colours of skin, hair, and eyes.

  The man with the food put a spoon in his hand, he recognised the motion he made. He tentatively shovelled some of the food onto the spoon and tried it. It was good, he had no idea what it was, lumpy and yellow, but it tasted good, like eggs from birds, actually that’s what it was, eggs. He smiled and said it. The man just nodded and left.

  He devoured all of it, and was hungry for more, but he was tired again, his eyes closed before he could even smile as his name came back to him.

  He woke to someone bent over him.

  “You look terrible.” The man smiled, his face was familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

  “I had a terrible dream that I had gone to a strange world, and I hadn’t gone to the war, and no one understood me.”

  The man looked sad. “Old friend, it has been too long. You did not dream.”

  “Dunalin?” Petrio was astonished.

  “Yes.”

  “The last time I saw you…”

  “I went through the portal, just as you did. It went wrong for me, and I ended up here, as did you.”

  “Are there others, where are we?”

  “Calm yourself, be patient. The process takes a few days to recover from, I will tell you all I know. Can you walk?”

  “Yes, I need to pass to water.”

  “Come.” Dunalin halted and began to speak in another language to someone who had come into the room. He watched the back and forth, trying to make sense of the tone.

  Dunalin felt a presence that morning, he had not felt such a warming comfort since he left Valtinth. At first, he hadn’t noticed it, but as the years passed and he was alone on earth over year upon year, he felt the absence of his kind.

  Feeling such a strong presence made him sit right up in bed. He tried to remember where he had surfaced, but those first days were hazy, and the ones that followed were difficult. He was drawn down to the river, the Thames was long, but he felt a pull to the spot, it was familiar, the sensation tickled inside, he remembered drinking the tar, the gnarled priest’s voice, and being pulled down into the endless void.

  The magic and power that sent them through such distances were frightening, and he remembered months of anger and despair mixed in with it.

  He wouldn’t let whoever came through after him live that way.

  He saw from a distance the river police drag out a figure from the water onto the boat. It was Petrio. When he had left, he was still training, but he was bigger than most, he was magnificent transformed, a leader of their kind in the making. It made him sad to think of it, the disappointment of it for him, now cut off from their world for all their lives. It was probably for the best.

  Petrio was in bad shape, he remembered that well. He wondered how others fared, how many others were scattered through time and space.

  Dunalin checked hospitals and finally found his friend in the late afternoon. He’d managed to bypass any questions and officials in the process.

  “You can’t take him.” The nurse blocked the door.

  “I am his only family here.” His English had an accent, almost Scandinavian in intonation, but not quite.

  “Be that as it may sir, but you can’t walk out with him until the doctor has seen him and the police have spoken to you, he was attacked you know.”

  “Was he now?”

  “Beat up, stripped and dumped, so what do you want with him?”

  “Well why don’t you fetch the doctor.”

  She pursed her lips. “May I suggest you sit for a few minutes. The doctor will be along shortly.”

  Dunalin smiled at the woman and took a few steps to her, she blinked into his eyes, they were sharp and black, but as she stared at him they appeared to glow, she looked sleepily into nothing. “We’ll go now I think.”

  “Yes.”

  Petrio looked at his friend in question. “It is a perk.” He shrugged, and helped Petrio up. He was astonished as Dunalin showed him the mechanics of the bathroom. They walked outside, if anyone thought it odd that a six foot seven man in nothing but a hospital gown walking through the carpark, no one bothered to say.

  He looked at everything as they went, the tarmac, the buildings, the cars. His face was horrified.

  “Do not worry, it will come naturally in time.” The car Dunalin stopped at was black, and Petrio put his hand on it, just to feel the texture of it.

  “Open it.” He looked it over, and guessed at the handle. He raised his brows when the door opened.

  He copied Dunalin in putting on his seatbelt but cried out when he started the car. They moved along at speed, and he grasped the dash in front of him, convinced he was going to die.

  The car stopped at a tall new building, he looked up in awe at the glass. It was a shining tower, and oddly, it reminded him of the Last City, though the towers there weren’t smooth and they were rounded not square.

  A sudden comprehension of it came to him, but more than that, underneath there was a truth, one he couldn’t quite grasp.

  “I am trapped here.”

  “We both are.”

  He nodded and followed his friend.

  He exclaimed at the little box they stood in that moved floors, he was laughing by the time they stepped out of it.

  The penthouse was all glass ceilings, and the views of the city left him slack jawed. It was incredible.

  “How many people are here? Where is here?”

  “There is a lot to say to the last question, things that I have figured out, I have been here a long time.”

  “You only left eight years ago.”

  “To you. This place is different, the world is different, and we are different because of it, we are not like them.”

  “But we look alike.”

  “Yes, I have theories about that too, but that can wait. Let us stay with the subject of time, it is easier to say that time here is different for us. It goes slowly. I have been here for more than fifty years of the years here, I think it is the equivalent of about thirty of our years, roughly anyway. The days are shorter, years are shorter, but it is hard to tell, it feels like thirty of our years, still, it is hard to know for sure. You will adjust to it.”

  “But you look the same age.”

  He sighed. “I’ll tell you all, but it is important that you rest. Come.”

  The bedroom was unlike anything he’d ever known. The floor was plush and soft on his feet. The bed high and firm, thick comfortable linens made him groan as he lay down, shedding the hospital gown. He mumbled so
mething before he closed his eyes.

  “I miss my robes…”

  Robes were defining for his kind, as they signified strength and position. The weight helped to control the need to change, being naked and free made the change easier. His hazy thoughts as he fell into sleep again were of the notion that he felt light here, as if he could float away, it was good that he was so tired, making it impossible to change.

  Petrio had never been so comfortable, he snuggled into the pillow and turned over. Light was edging into the room from the tightly shut blinds, and his eyes opened.

  He staggered out of the bed, his body felt less sore, but he was hungry, his stomach growled at him. He stumbled out of the room into the main living area, the morning light made him blink. It was unlike any living quarters he had ever known. He explored the place, finding a bathroom. He flushed the toilet with as much surprise as he had before. Such an odd notion using water to remove waste. He caught sight of a mirror, the bruises on his face were already mottling, and he wondered how long he had been asleep.

  The mirrors at home were never this clear, he looked at his own reflection for some time before deciding to find food. He had a full sharp face, angled cheekbones, square jaw, full mouth, he looked cruel, but he smiled into the mirror and his face was warm.

  He looked at the array of cupboards at one end of the penthouse and found drinking vessels, so he knew he was close to food. He finally found bread, similar to a staple of home. He ate it out of the bag until he was full. When however, he discovered the fridge, he found room for more. Fruits and vegetables, and cheeses. Yes, this was good. He opened and closed the fridge, marvelling at the magic that kept it cold.

  He turned at laughter.

  “You know, the world was a very different place when I got here. The marvels of technology still amaze me.”

  “Technology?” The word was odd to his tongue.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Thirsty.”

  “Here.” Dunalin pulled out a bottle of water, and Petrio drank it in one as Dunalin put all the contents of the fridge back. “There is much to discuss, so, let’s start with one thing at a time. First, shower and clothes. I don’t want to look at you naked all the time.”