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

  He told Dunalin, who looked askance. “Have you ever dreamt of it?”

  “No, I am glad to say.”

  “It wasn’t just a dream, of that I am convinced. I felt the liquid in me, it has never left me, I have brought it through with me. I felt the despair in it as if I had been there for an eternity. It is as though it is telling me something.”

  Dunalin thought. “In my grandmother’s time. She would tell us of things. One was the tale of the Serpent King, but there were others. Things, of which one did not speak, dismissed as tales for children. Always hushed, always quietly spoken into the fire.

  “She would say, a king would come, reborn in the Amnist’ah and a return of glory. She would say other vagaries and half-truths. The point is there is so much we do not know about it.”

  Petrio blinked. “Amnist’ah. That is what we are, it is what we come from.”

  “I think so. I have spent many years thinking of these things, but my friend, it does no good, we cannot change things, and it cannot be undone. Would you really wish to go back? I can see it in your face.”

  “I do not want to go back to the caverns, to our prison, but I fear for our brothers. It was as though I was asleep, blinded and bound for years, and now I see. There is something I need to know, to understand, and I’m hovering on the edge of it.”

  “It is well, be calm my brother.” Dunalin stood, and placed his hand on Petrio’s chest, much as the priest had done. Come, let us look at dinosaurs, and the like, there is something else you might find interesting.” Petrio frowned and followed his friend.

  Dunalin powered up the large screen of the computer in his office. When he typed the word ‘dragon’ into the search engine, Petrio made a little noise when the results came up. He was fascinated, and Dunalin left him to it. He sat there for some hours trawling through the results. A little before five, he came out, shaken.

  “I think I understand it.”

  “Do you? I have about thirty ideas, tell me your certainty.”

  “An idea has been forming in my mind all day, partly from the vision. Things I hadn’t realised at first. There is so much to take in, so much to learn, I hadn’t even thought.”

  “What?”

  “The light here is different, brighter, yet not warmer. I’ve only just realised this. This place is so different, the rules of nature, of science, are not the same as ours. Given, we could have come through a wormhole of sorts, created by the Amnist’ah, its power and properties are not understood by us, but it does not mean that there isn’t science within it. Yet, I begin to think that it is something different.

  “One question in my mind is why we look alike to them. I mean we are not the same, you look closely, and you see it, similar but not exact. These people are so varied, and their origins clear.

  “Then there are the dinosaurs. Again, almost like what we change into, but not. Again, they are varied. But, there are similarities. When we die, we return to the Amnist’ah. The dinosaurs died out all at once, and over time, they became oil. It too has properties, they made things out of it, they run their cars off it, they manipulate it into a thousand things. Different, yet parallel. We are like them, but not them, we are parallel.”

  “We are from an alternate plane of reality, alternate universe. I think it most likely. How did we cross do you think?”

  “If a wormhole can fold space and time, maybe reality too, who knows what can happen. Now, to dragons. We have been fighting the war for a thousand years. That is a long time for history to be handed down verbally, our planet has been slowly dying for many generations. What if it is ten or a hundred thousand years? What if the priests have been sending us to our deaths for that long? How many of us have been sent elsewhere, and left stranded. There would be no record of our existence, we return to liquid form. But people would have seen us.”

  “Dragons were a way to explain the bones of dinosaurs, or sea creatures only glimpsed, or crocodiles.”

  “Accepted, but most of them don’t have wings. Some legends are depicted as we look, not how dinosaurs or lizards look. What if we have been here for centuries, and been consigned to legends? There might be others here.”

  “I felt your arrival, I was drawn to it.”

  “Perhaps it was because I was close by. The planet is vast.” Dunalin seemed to think. “And, if we have been here, and perished, somewhere is the Amnist’ah.”

  “And what would you do? Try to go back? We could have been sent here by accident.”

  “The despair we feel in the void,” Dunalin shuddered at Petrio’s words, “is its consciousness. All our shared past, everything is captured within. We were spared.”

  “By the priests, or by the Amnist’ah?”

  “I don’t know, I will dream of it, I know it, I feel a growing certainty. I am tied to it, I feel it still.”

  Dunalin looked grieved for his friend. “Then I am sorry. Come, eat, before you meet your lady again, think of less weighty things.”

  Petrio nodded, his thoughts tempered by the thought of Caitlin.

  Five. King in the void

  Petrio bought flowers under instruction, he spotted the deep red velvety roses and smiled. They appealed to him.

  She buzzed him in and when she opened the door, she beamed. Clever Dunalin. He found her happiness at the gesture pleased him greatly.

  He followed her in as she took the flowers. She wore a short dress again, but it was loose, his eye faltered at the hem.

  “Petrio?”

  “Um.”

  Caitlin laughed, he looked up at her then and crossed the kitchen to her. He pulled her close and kissed her, he didn’t just kiss her, he ravaged her mouth. His arms held her tightly, she began to lose her footing, and he swept her up.

  She had always wanted that, a man to have the strength to take charge of her, and here he was, a fantasy come to life.

  His lips left hers. “Are you recovered?”

  “Yes.”

  “I cannot wait.”

  “Then don’t.”

  He carried her into the bedroom, and lay her down. She pulled at his clothes, and he obliged her. Out of his coat pocket, he pulled out a large box of condoms. “I do not want to run out again.” She could only raise her brows as he kissed her again, undressing her like she was a gift for him. He kissed and tongued every inch of skin.

  She came alive again at the sensation, as if a whole day hadn’t passed in anticipation. She had waxed, exfoliated, moisturised, and preened most of the afternoon. He ran his cheek up her thigh and purred, she decided it had been worth it.

  She was naked and panting by the time he sat back. He looked her over.

  “Open your legs.” She swallowed and did as he asked. He ran his hands and brushed his face against the inside of her thighs until she begged him to touch her. He made little noises in the back of his throat as he went, teasing her, when he finally ran his hand between her lips and inside her, she cried out. He nipped her thigh and tongued her clit, he felt her tighten, and withdrew.

  He pulled her up and turned her over. He tore open the box and sheathed himself. He entered slowly, he pushed her shoulders down, and she rested on her elbows. He grunted with every thrust. He reached forward and felt down her body, feeling where they joined, he rested two fingers either side of her clit and let his thrusts push him to and fro on her clit.

  She responded immediately, and he smiled. She contracted and bucked wildly as she came, he called her name, begging her not to stop. She felt the intense sensation fade a little and continued bucking against him. He stilled, and then lost all reason as he took her.

  They fell onto the bed. Satisfied again, he relaxed, and closed his eyes.

  He was floating in the dark. It was bitterly cold but he couldn’t feel it, he couldn’t feel anything anymore.

  He opened his eyes, and saw nothing. There was total darkness. The inky nothing seeped under his lids and his vision focused. In the dark, there were vague outlines of bodies. They changed from
the forms of men, into the great sprawling changed forms they took.

  They spread out and soared through the abyss. Those still in man form gathered to him. Their hands outstretched, begging him to help.

  A form, clearer than the others neared, the largest creature he had ever witnessed swam through him. He cried out, and the liquid filled his mouth, he breathed it in, he swallowed it down.

  He arched back, his naked body swathed in the great serpent, holding him, comforting him in the despair. The outlines of men became clearer, nameless faces, but others, as they became clearer were known to him, ones gone before, mentors, teachers, warriors. All lost to the void.

  He stilled and calmed. He understood, he knew all.

  Caitlin lay panting in the quiet after Petrio curled up, spooning his body round her. He was so hot to touch. She felt herself sweating. She removed the condom for him, he was already dozing. She smiled as she binned it. She went to the bathroom, and then to fetch a drink, and she wasn’t gone for more than ten minutes, when she heard sounds from the bedroom. She stood in the doorway watching him twitch in his sleep. He looked anguished.

  She wondered again at what he had suffered. She wondered if the sex was a way of trying to forget it, not successfully by the look of it.

  She considered waking him, but his whole body convulsed. He arched backwards in a way that no man can. He shuddered and called out, she realised he was speaking, but the language sounded so alien. She could only watch in horror, a creeping fear rising every second.

  She dropped the water, and put her hand to her mouth and leant on the doorframe. The words became strangled as his mouth opened, it stretched unnaturally, bones cracked, and his skin, waxy and pale, took on a golden sheen. His eyes opened and he looked right at her, they were no longer black pits of nothing, but golden, a yellow light in them. She cried out and sank to her knees.

  There was a guttural roar, and in a second, he closed his mouth, his back curled forward, and he returned to normal.

  She made no sound, she didn’t even breath, and she was utterly still, in shock.

  Petrio sat up, bruises began to form on his body. He winced as he moved. He spoke the strange language, and he sounded tired. He blinked and spotted her kneeling on the floor, a single tear fell from her eye.

  He blinked again, trying to remember English words.

  “Caitlin?” he made his voice gentle, but she didn’t respond.

  He slithered off the bed and to her, moving in a strange crawl. She recoiled when he reached out to touch her.

  Her shock fell away and she whispered. “What are you?”

  He regarded her for a moment. “What did you see?”

  “You first.” She hissed, and he pulled away, hurt and afraid.

  “You would not believe me if…” At that second, a pain doubled him over, he clutched his middle. The foul taste in his mouth worsened and he pulled himself up and staggered to the bathroom. He vomited the black liquid.

  Caitlin cautiously followed, and saw him. He was a grey colour, his body sweating. He fell back. “Help me.” His voice shook.

  “How?”

  “Phone.” She dug out his phone from his coat pocket and handed to him. He managed to open it, and dial, but dropped it when another wave of sickness hit.

  The phone was answered and a tinny “Hello?” echoed over Petrio’s retching. She picked up the phone, her face twisted at the black vomit pouring forth.

  “Hello?”

  “Who is this?”

  “Caitlin.” Silence. “There is something wrong with him. Something happened and he was glowing, and now he’s throwing up this black stuff.” She gave him her address when asked and she hurriedly dressed.

  She was loath to go near him, but he was so distressed when the sickness passed, his body was battered, huge bruises covered him, and he curled up and wept. She felt his brow when she neared, it was cold. She fetched her heavy bedspread and the comfort of it when she tucked it round him seemed to ease him. He clutched her hand, pulling it to her lips, murmuring things she didn’t understand.

  She peeled herself away to let Dunalin in rubbing the sticky residue off her hand as she went.

  The other man from the bar, the cousin, stood before her. He could see her fear, and reassured her. He had the same eyes, and when she met his gaze, she looked away shuddering.

  Dunalin knelt down to Petrio, and whispered words to him. The man’s presence seemed to calm him.

  Petrio opened his eyes, the whites had turned red where the blood vessels had burst, he blinked. He spoke their language quietly to Dunalin.

  “I know, I saw it all, I know.”

  “Saw what?”

  “The truth, the serpent, what we are, what they want.” He clutched at Dunalin’s shirt, and clenched his teeth. “They are coming, through me. He has come.”

  Petrio arched back again, a growl came from him. Dunalin look horrified, and Caitlin was silently crying.

  “We have to get him out of here.” Petrio slumped and lost consciousness. “Just help me dress him.”

  She nodded and between them, they dragged him out and dressed him as best they could.

  She swallowed her fear and asked the burning question.

  “What are you?”

  “Not men. You have seen it now, you know we are not like others. You will not comprehend the truth.”

  “It will kill me not to know.” Dunalin paused and tilted his head at her, much as Petrio had done. “You’re not from Finland.”

  “No. Do you care about him?”

  She looked down, even with what she had witnessed, even as the shock wore off, she knew that she did. As soon as she had seen him, she knew something was off, she had sensed it about him. Like a predator among men. They hadn’t spoken that much, but the time together had been intense, and special. She feared for him, as much as she feared him.

  “Yes, I care for him. I'm afraid though.”

  “What you want to do? I can take him, and then you can be done, or you can help me, if you want to.” In truth, as he looked at her, he felt something, as though she was familiar to him, or important, it was a vague instinct. He had learnt to trust those instincts and they had served him well. He needed her help.

  “I’ll help.”

  “Good. Take his feet, he weighs a tonne.”

  They strained to pick him up, they took him downstairs, and looked about to make sure no one was about. She put his feet down, and took Dunalin’s keys. He had a large SUV and she opened the back door. She went back and grabbed his feet, and carried him down the steps, both straining with his weight.

  They slumped him in the back, pushing and pulling him. She settled in the back, resting his head on her lap. Dunalin got in the front and started the car.

  “Wait, I don’t have my bag, my phone.”

  “That might be best.”

  “What?” he turned.

  “I will explain this to you,” his eyes glanced down, “I shouldn’t, I never have uttered a word to anyone, yet since Petrio arrived, things have changed. He is changing things. You are part of that.”

  “How?”

  He shook his head. “He had a dream?”

  “Yes.”

  “I had it too.”

  They drove north, both quiet. He gave her chance to absorb an uncertain new reality, and he needed to think.

  His mind raced with the conversation they had earlier, he held onto the dream he had. It was after midnight when he exited the motorway and pulled into a spot at the service station.

  He turned to see her asleep, her hand on Petrio’s brow. He sighed and rested his head back.

  After Petrio left that evening, Dunalin sat in thought for some time, he remembered his first weeks on Earth. Starving, and alone, he had shuddered in doorways, scooped up by police, raging and crying the whole time.

  His journey through the void was a long nightmare of nothing, it had sent him mad at first. There was a time when he thought all of his life a nightmare
, and this new reality was alien to him because he was mad in it.

  He shook his head.

  He had given up, prepared to die, when he saw a vision, a sweet blond creature. She was beautiful. Took him in, fed him, clothed him. She was a prostitute and he had been given work by her boss. Fighting. They were glorious days. The warrior in him loved it, all his anger, all his wrath purged.

  The void was responsible for that, all that pain, and now, with Petrio’s words fresh in his mind, he was wondering if there had been purpose, why he had been sent. He thought about it most of the evening, falling into a calm state, and then came the dream.

  He was watching Petrio, sated and loved. He was folding around what appeared to be a cream and copper fabric, his vision focused, and he saw it was the woman, but Petrio was rent away, and both he and Petrio were pulled into the tar. He saw a brief vision of a priest, bent over the font, blue light about him as he chanted, and they were inside the void.

  All around them were others, some more distinct, and circling them were the great serpents of old. Huge creatures, trapped for eons, their power building, for hundreds of thousands of years circling in their prison.

  For that was what it was, a great prison of their own power, trapped in a construct of the priests making, so that they could take all their magic, until spent. Feeding those who could transform to the prison fed the power.

  The Serpent King, the greatest of their kind embraced Petrio, and there was love in it, he felt the sense of home and rightness of their gathering, but through it was the pain, the anger and despair, in a place where there was no time, no meaning, no hope.

  But for many, they were the hope. Dunalin saw his place, saw his role.

  He gasped awake. His head rang and spun, his body ached, and then his phone rang.

  “Caitlin.” She opened her eyes, blinked and looked down at the prone form resting on her lap.

  “Where are we?”

  “Service station. I need to eat, you?”

  She shook her head, she felt sick. He returned with bags of food. He handed her some wet wipes.