Blademage Dragontamer Read online

  “Where is everyone?” asked Crosseyes, turning to take in the village. With each turn the sunlight gleamed on his metal skin. “This place isn’t abandoned; somewhere was here not so long ago.”

  “Maybe they’re scared of us,” said Gully.

  Crosseyes shook his hand. He swept his coat back in one fluid motion and rested his hands on his katana handles, which hung from sheathes on his belt. “Where I’m from, you don’t just run away when a group of strangers come into your village. You either welcome them in, or you make damned sure they wished they’d never set foot within a mile of it.”

  “So, where the hell are they?” asked Charlie.

  The answer came in the form of chanting sounds drifting toward them. It was a long, moaning chant of words he couldn’t quite make out, almost guttural in the way it sounded, sing-song at times, before descending an octave into something more sinister.

  It chilled him. There was something dark and secret about it, and even without hearing the words properly, he knew they contained something dark.

  Longtooth pointed beyond the dark stone houses, which had taken on a more sinister aura in Charlie’s mind. He followed the rat’s outstretched nail to see a building wider than the rest, made form the same jagged rock, but with patterns etched into it. They were symbols of some sort, but he’d never seen anything like them. The nearest thing he could compare them to were Egyptian hieroglyphics, but these were more symbols than drawings, and they were etched deep into the stone.

  Larynk set off toward the symbol-marked building. Increasingly, Charlie found himself being the voice of reason, even when it came to the god.

  “Wait,” he said.

  “Whoever lives here, they’re in that building,” said Larynk.

  “I know but give me a second.”

  He held his hands in front of him. With focus, he gathered his mana in his palm and then cycled through his spells.

  Most of his magic was straight forward; Heal could fix wounds, Mend could repair objects, Ice Shield created a freezing barrier of defence. Detect Evil was different, and despite repeated use, he still wasn’t sure of its particulars.

  Sometimes, when he sent out the pulse of light, it returned back and fed him with information of anything hostile in the area. The problem was, he didn’t know if it was hostile to him, hostile in general, or could just become hostile given the right provocation.

  Nevertheless, with a flick of his will he cast the pulse, and the trembling pulse of mana sped out toward the blackened rock, spreading across it. When it returned, if fed no information to him.

  There were definitely people in the habitat ahead, given the chanting drifting from it, but they weren’t hostile. Or they weren’t hostile yet.

  “Larynk, I don’t think we should all march over there and interrupt whatever they’re doing. No sense drawing attention to ourselves before we know who we’re dealing with. Only two or three of us should go.”

  Larynk nodded. The crack in his marble face had healed a little, but he still looked like an age-worn statue. “Correct as ever. I was testing you. Human, gnome, you’re with me. Metal man, weird lion, and old wheezebag, stay here.”

  “What about me?” said Longtooth.

  “Find yourself some cheese.”

  Longtooth snarled. “That’s a stereotype, and I don’t think you should-”

  Larynk ignored him and set off toward the jagged rock building. Charlie and Flink followed, and they came to a set of stone doors. They were chocolate browns in color, decorated by more of the rune etchings. Charlie studied them but the markings were old, and the only ones that weren’t scuffed beyond recognition were a symbol of an owl, a wolf, and a dragon.

  One of the doors was half ajar, and the louder sounds of chanting drifted out. It was a medley of voices, youth mixing with age, deep manly octaves combining with more feminine tones, but it was a non-sensical chanting, more noises than words.

  Larynk listened with his hand cupped around his ear. Charlie raised an eyebrow at him, and the marble god shrugged.

  Charlie kneeled beside the door and looked inside. It was a giant curved atrium decorated with brightly colored rune symbols. The roof rose into a dome, where ravens rested on wooden rafters. An aroma drifted out; the utter stink of sweat combined with something earth, almost herby. Maybe incense or something like that. Whatever it was, it couldn’t hide the body odour of the villagers.

  Three dozen people were kneeling on the stone floor. To a man, woman, and child they were all completely bald, and the men and women were built with more muscle than steroid-addled gym bro. Some had symbols painted on their backs, while others wore necklaces with various teeth threaded through string.

  It was only after looking at the villagers and then focussing back on the atrium itself, that he realized he’d skipped over something. It was easy to do, since it wasn’t a question he was used to asking, but it was an important one; what were human beings doing on this distant planet, maybe billions of light years from Earth?

  There had been a few humans on the last planet, too. Did the gods use humans as some kind of universal civilisation placeholder? Like maybe they were part of a god’s starter kit when making a new world?

  That was a question for later. Now, he needed to get the size of these people. A man at the front of the atrium, older than the rest and with the stirrings of time making his muscles begin to droop around his arms and waist. There was something tribal about him but refined at the same time. He was half naked like the rest of them but he was nowhere near as muscled, and there was a depth behind his eyes. The most prominent thing about him, at least by Charlie’s superficial standards, was the third nippled on his chest.

  The older man led the chanting, and the sound changed now. It wasn’t just a hum of noise, there were words. Words in English.

  “Serpent, oh king, Serpent, we give to you…”

  “What are they saying?” whispered Larynk, behind him.

  “Something about a serpent and a king.”

  At the end of the room, behind the older man, was the focus of the worshippers’ attention. It was a giant statue of a hulking figure. He was bald like the rest of them but two feet taller, packed with enough muscle that, were he real, he could have torn down the rocky building with his hands. He looked like an ancient warrior, a Hercules type who belonged in the pages of old legends.

  Wait. Was this guy…Yeah! Charlie realized that he recognized the figure; it was the dragonrider he’d seen when they were crashing.

  He was about to tell the others, when the older man turned. Charlie ducked behind the door, his heart hammering, but the man hadn’t seen him. Instead, he addressed the congregation.

  “And now Serpens must have his gift,” the man said.

  He walked among the first row of kneeling worshippers, eying each of them intently, before stopping in front of a young girl.

  “You are the gift, child,” he said.

  The girl cried out. The older man tried to grab her, but she shrugged away. Charlie began to get a horrible feeling watching this. He almost stood up, but Larynk must have sensed it, and he rested a marble hand on his shoulder. Charlie stayed still.

  Two adults, a man and a woman, pulled the girl to her feet. Together with the older man, they led her until she was in front of the dragonrider statue and made her kneel by it.

  The girl’s shoulders shook as she cried. The old man showed no pity for her; instead, he drew an object from a sheath on his waist. It was as long as a dagger, except pure white, and curved. It looked like a tooth; was it a dragon tooth?

  “Lift your head, child,” said the old man.

  The girl didn’t respond.

  He grabbed her chin tenderly and lifted her head so that her eyes met his. He showed her the tooth. “Do not be scared, my love. You are Serpens’ gift. This is a happy occasional, and any pain will be fleeting.”

  And with that, he held the sharp curve of the tooth against her throat.

  Some of th
e crowd gasped, others stayed rigid as though they were hiding their emotions. Charlie was behind them, and he could see what they tried to hide. He saw how tense their backs were, and he felt his only muscled tighten too.

  No. Charlie couldn’t watch this. What kind of man would he be if he just watched a young, terrified, girl get killed in the name of some kind of idol?

  He shrugged Larynk’s hand away, and he stood up and pushed the stone door fully open. It scraped against the ground, creating a noise so loud that the congregation turned to face him, and he found himself looking at three dozen heavily-muscled people, each of whom could tear him limb from limb.

  He flicked Lifedrinker into place in his bladeswitcher, and he let mana flow into his palms, tense and ready to cast as soon as he commanded the right spell.

  “Intruders,” said the older man at the front. “Bring their flesh to Serpens.”

  The congregation stood up as one, and they marched through the room and toward them as one, as a giant throng of thudding feet and bulging muscles and skin blemished by cuts, scars, callouses, and dirt.

  Larynk dragged Charlie away from the door. Flink held her spear horizontally, and she gritted her teeth. “There are too many,” she said.

  Charlie backed away as the congregation marched toward them. As odds went, he had never faced worse; the savagery in the congregation’s faces left him with no doubt they didn’t need weapons to tear him apart with their hands, but it wasn’t just their desire that scared him, it was that they looked fully capable of doing it.

  Larynk glared at them. “Do you know who you’re marching at, mortals?” he said, putting on his deepest god voice. “You dare look on a god in this way? You dare meet my eyes?”

  He seemed to grow in size a little now; not much, just a foot taller so he loomed high over the congregation. His marble skin darkened a touch, his eyes grew tar-black. An energy seemed to hum around him. Charlie couldn’t see it, but he felt it, and it was the first time he’d ever looked at Larynk and really felt he was in the presence of a god.

  “He is no god,” called the older man. “Serpens is the true god.”

  Larynk stopped. His marble eyes widened. “Serpens?”

  “He is the true god, the almighty, heaven rider, dragontamer…”

  “…And heavy drinker,” finished Layrnk.

  His energy left him now, and his marble skin lightened and his eyes lost their darkness, and the energy faded like air hissing out of a popped balloon.

  “You know this guy?” said Charlie.

  He heard wings flapping behind him, and he turned to meet the stare of a giant dragon, neck-achingly tall, its skin rough enough to cut your finger on, green light burning where its scales didn’t meet. Up close, it was even more terrifying than it had been in the air, when it had bared down on their ship with fire burning in its cavernous mouth.

  A man leapt down from it, thudding on the ground. It was the dragon rider; the man from the statue in the atrium. His mere presence made a hush descend on the villagers, and they froze on the spot, their eyes turned to the ground.

  “Serpens,” said Larynk.

  Serpens stopped. His chest rippled with muscle, and he was naked except for a modest looking pair of pants. If you’d tanned him up and lathered him in baby oil, he’d have won every body-building contest in the universe. Instead of skin, his giant arms were covered with spiky dragon scales. He was human in form – if not in size – but a dragon-shaped thin mist hung around him, moving as he did. It was almost imperceptible, only existing when Charlie stared at it. When he didn’t, he just saw Serpens, this hunk of muscle and skin and scales.

  This was a God; no doubt about it. While he knew Larynk was a god because he went at great pains to remind him of it at every opportunity, he could tell Serpens was a god just by looking at him. He emitted a feeling of power and terror, and Charlie’s spells and blades suddenly felt flimsy.

  He leaned toward his dragon and scratched its chin, and the dragon purred, a deep enough sound to make Charlie’s skin tingle.

  “Hello, Larynk,” said Serpens. “I wish I had known you were coming.”

  “I’ll explain,” said Larynk, holding his marble hand vertically so his palm showed to Serpens. Similarly, Serpens held his palm up to, three inches from Larynk’s, and little static bolts of light zapped from palm to palm.

  After that, the two gods eyed each other, neither moving, neither speaking. Charlie started to feel uncomfortable in a way he’d never felt when he was with Larynk. Now, he felt like he really knew what a god was, and it seemed like a sensible idea to stop staring at him.

  Before he moved his gaze from the god, he saw Crosseyes and the others came up behind Serpens. Crosseyes held his twin pistols up, while Longtooth drew his bow. Gully was sitting on Apollo, with fire flickering in his open palms, though the chimera stayed behind them.

  Larynk held up his hand. “Stop it, Crosseyes,” he told him. Then he faced Serpens. “Two mortals and a demigod are behind you. Don not act rashly; they mean no harm.”

  The dragon huffed. Its breath was hot, enough that Charlie wondered if one particularly strong breath could ignite his beard. This wasn’t the greatest situation to be in. With Serpens and his dragon in front of them and the muscled congregation behind them, they were stuck.

  Larynk glanced at Charlie and whispered. “Don’t look Serpens in the eye, and don’t speak to him. It’s an insult for most gods to have a mortal talk to them. Just let me handle this.”

  Charlie nodded. He knew when to shut up.

  “What is the meaning of this, Larynk?” said Serpens. “I find you on my planet, unannounced, interrupting my worship. Explain yourself.”

  “Serpens…my friend…I’m sure you realize that the time for announcing visits is over. I don’t have to tell you what happened at the Pantheon.”

  “The demi-gods sent you here, didn’t they?” boomed Serpens.

  Charlie felt anger begin to ignite in him. Being trapped did that; it brought out the worst part of his personality, and he was sick of being treated like a god’s play toy. Don’t look Serpens in the eye? Who was Larynk to tell him that?

  “They damn well didn’t send us here,” he said, finding his voice.

  “A mortal dares address me?”

  “Yeah, he does,” said Flink. “And I do too.”

  “I don’t know what games you are playing, Larynk, bringing mortals to my planet. Mortals not of my own creation.” Then, he turned to face Crosseyes. “And you, you wretched thing. A demi-god not worthy of his own immortality.”

  Charlie could see the anger building in Serpens, and with his own temper calming a little, he cursed his inability to keep his mouth under control. He needed to keep it shut, but speaking out had helped. It had let out a little of the pressure building in him.

  “Listen,” said Larynk. “We need to talk. Let my friends remain here safely, and we’ll discuss this. There’s a lot I need to tell you, and…”

  Serpens pointed at Charlie, his muscles trembling. “You! There is an energy I do not like around you, mortal. A waft of an aura you should not have.”

  Charlie fought to keep quiet. An energy? What was he talking about? He wanted to ask, but he held the words in.

  Larynk strode toward the god. “Serpens, please tell me you have something to drink on this planet? Let’s go and talk away from the mortals, and I’ll fill you in.”

  Serpens nodded. He addressed the elder of his congregation, who towered behind Charlie and Flink. “Keep them prisoner,” he said. “And I will return soon. Do not kill them until I command it.”

  Keep them prisoner. Great. Charlie looked past the god and at the sky, where somewhere beyond it was outer space, and nestled there, in a cosmos he’d never seen, was the home of the gods. There, in the Pantheon, someone really had it in for him.

  Chapter Eight

  Since he was being held prisoner, he had a chance to take a better look at the village. Most of it consisted of the strange brown
stone buildings, which were of varying sizes and shapes. It seemed like the stone was a stubborn building material, since every house looked like it had been thrown together on a whim, or maybe like the rocks had already been here, in the village, and the people had simply carved their dwellings into the mounds. The place wouldn’t have won any Most Beautiful Village of the Year awards.

  There were crop fields to the east where some bare-chested men worked, but he’d never seen crops like them before. They looked like starfish growing on thin, pointed stalks, and fist-sized honey bees buzzed around them. In the distance there was a lake, the water glinting green under the sun.

  He began to reassess how he thought about the place. He couldn’t say exactly what it was, but there was a kind of harmony to it. Honestly, in a different time, a different place, maybe he’d have vacationed here. There was an air of simplicity to it that would have been a welcome escape from the grind of 9 to 5 office life. Course, it was a different matter when you’d crash-landed here, and you were being held prisoner by a dragon god’s worshippers.