by Deck Davis
There was something a little off about it all. Like, the trappings of Earth were here but with little tweaks that made everything not-quite-right, like the hulking great leather harness in the giant-sized kennels.
Putting the pieces together, he had an idea what was this place was. Or rather, what these people did. The harnesses? Dragons. Must have been. What else could they have fit? The scorch marks on the stone houses were a sign that something fiery had prowled around here not too long ago. Maybe these people bred dragons, or maybe they tamed them.
Right now, they weren’t breeding or taming anything. Instead, they were glaring at Charlie and the others.
“Who ate all my stew?” said a barrel-chested, bald headed woman, standing over empty cooking pot and stomping the ground in anger.
Charlie would have said she was the strongest-looking woman he’d ever seen, but every woman in this village looked just as tough. Hell, even the kids looked like they’d give put him out for the count. If he had a reason to fight one, that was. They all wore as little clothes as they could, content with just enough to keep them modest, and this meant their muscled skin was on show; biceps like footballs, necks all tendon and bulk. Most of them were tanned, and they were an unusually scarred bunch, with every other man, woman and child having some kind of burn mark on their body.
This wasn’t the only strange thing, though. It hadn’t occurred to him until now, because it was harder to notice the absence of something than the presence of it, but the longer he looked at the villagers, the surer he was. Something was missing; namely, old people. Out of every person there, every person he’d seen in the atrium, the only one approaching anything near old age had been the man at the front, the lovely fella who was about to sacrifice a young girl to Serpens.
It was a question he wanted the answer to, but no way was he going to ask the villagers who held him captive. They looked tough and mean to a person, but this woman, the one whose stew they’d eaten, was ready to pop.
“I said, who ate my stew?” she demanded.
Longtooth looked at the ground as the woman’s fury grew and grew, like a scolded child who believed avoiding an adult’s stare would stop him getting into trouble. Flink on the other hand, sat with a gnomish glare on her face, an expression just as mean as the villager’s. She could be scary when she wanted to be.
Charlie was more concerned with the collection of rakes, spades, axes and spears pointed at him than the angry woman.
If the villagers were angry, then Charlie was furious. The villagers didn’t bear the brunt of it; instead, he was pissed that Larynk and Serpens had gone away to talk together, leaving Charlie, Flink and everyone guarded by villagers. It was the idea of being discarded that he hated. Of being treated like a pawn, a weak mortal caught up in the games of gods.
One villager gave him a particularly provocative stare and held his rake just an inch away from Charlie’s neck. He almost flicked a dagger from his blade switcher, then caught himself.
He needed to get a grip. The villagers had seemed as scared of Serpens as he was. And what did people do when they were scared? They lashed out at someone else. They were mortals like him, and maybe they were scared too. Besides, he didn’t think they planned to hurt him. They hadn’t even disarmed him, and instead seemed content to point their farming tools in his face.
Flink stood up and stretched her legs. A villager prodded her with a spade. “Sit.”
Flink batted the spade away and showed him her spear. “This is a real weapon. Want to see far I can stick it up your-”
Charlie didn’t like where this was going, and if there was going to be trouble, he wanted to be ready.
He gathered mana in his palms in case he needed to use a spell…only to find out that nothing happened. His powers were shut off again. Was it because Larynk had gone too far away with his sphere?
“Sit down, little troll,” said a villager.
Flink’s eyes flared in gnomish fury, and her knuckles turned white around her spear.
“Calm it a little,” said Charlie.
“Calm it? I-”
Crosseyes tugged her down to the ground, rough enough that Flink grunted when her ass hit the dirt. She struggled, but Crosseyes held her back, his arm around her neck just enough to retain her.
“Count to ten,” he told her.
The metal demi-god was the epitome of Zen, sitting with his legs crossed and the sunlight gleaming on his golden face. His red expression lines were calm.
“Why aren’t you madder, like Larynk was?” said Flink. “You’re a demi-god. Why aren’t you going crazy?”
“Because it won’t do us any good. You need to learn know when to play a hand, and when to sit it out. Look at the odds and tell me what you see.”
“Hmph,” said Flink.
Now that he’d regained a sense of calm, Charlie thought about it. His first reaction was it was a good thing Larynk knew Serpens; maybe he’d know whether they could trust him or not. On the other hand, Serpens seemed a little…unhinged. If he was so unstable that Charlie couldn’t even look him in the eye, what would he do when he got really pissed?
He leaned over to Crosseyes. “I don’t like this. Maybe we should have taken our chances with Mia and the pirates.”
Crosseyes whispered to him. “Don’t worry; Serpens isn’t as tough as he looks. Gods aren’t infallible. Live a few centuries, and you’ll see that. Hells, some demi-gods become fully fledged gods by duelling them. It’s all about the spheres.”
A villager prodded a rake at Crosseyes, and metal clanged against metal. “Prod all you want, my friend. If you’re feeling generous, maybe you could scratch my back.”
“Don’t talk about Serpens,” said the villager, a man with a tight-looking face, the skin dry and worn,
One villager approached them. He was smaller than the rest, and much less muscled. He was wiry and spry, and looked more suited to stealth than power. He wore a necklace of multi-coloured teeth, though none were big enough to be dragon teeth. On his bare chest, sitting proudly in the centre, was a third nipple. Charlie couldn’t take his eyes off it. It was the old man, the lovely older gent who’d been prepared to sacrifice a girl before Charlie had stepped in.
“Come,” he said, nodding at Charlie.
One village pointed a spade at him. “Where are you taking them?”
“Hush, Jonjo. Go and tend to your crops before next worship. It doesn’t take all of you to guard a few strangers.” Then he turned to Charlie. “I am Ozkar. Come to my house.”
He led them away from the villagers, who seemed to heed his words. They crossed the village until they went to the largest brown stone house. He tapped the jagged rock before entering. “Dragonrock,” he said, proudly. “Fire cannot burn it. I saw the flames in your hand, old man. Do not think to use them here.”
Gully gave a customary “humph” and then bent his back just a little more than usual, and they all went into the house.
Judging by the size of Ozkar’s house compared to the rest, he had some kind of importance in the village. Yet inside, his home was sparse, with just a mattress of hay in the corner of the room, and something curious next to it. Looking closer, Charlie saw that it was a book. The titled read: ‘Dune by Frank Herbert.’
It was so strange a sight that Charlie had to look twice and make sure he wasn’t going mad. He knew the book, because he had a copy of this exact edition at home. What the hell was one doing here?
Ozkar pushed the stone door closed behind them. “Sit,” he said.
Flink took a seat on the floor. Apollo nuzzled up next to her, and Flink didn’t move him, nor did she pet him. Longtooth was standing by the wall, marvelling at a series of symbols and runes that seemed to form a picture story. Crosseyes took his guns out, grabbed a cloth from his pocket, spat on it, and began polishing them. Papa Gully, without asking, stretched out on Ozkar’s bed.
If Ozkar cared about the presumption, he didn’t show it. Instead, he was standing in the doorway
, listening out, his third nipple sitting hypnotically on his chest and drawing Charlie’s stare.
No. The time for nipples would come later. Right now, there were more important things. A dizzying array of thoughts ran through Charlie’s head. How the hell did the inhabitant of a planet lightyears from Earth have a copy of Dune? Why did this village elder allow Crosseyes, a demi-god, to sit there with full loaded guns?
Ozkar turned away from the door. “Good. We can talk freely now.”
His accent dropped and changed into one that was unmistakably British. From the north of England, to be more precise. Charlie couldn’t believe it.
“Are you from Earth?” he asked.
Ozkar nodded. “I’m Oscar Jones,” he said. “Course, they pronounce it as Ozkar. You’re from earth too, aren’t you?”
Charlie was so glad to see someone from Earth he could have hugged him. Maybe if the guy wasn’t half-naked, he would have. Maybe if he hadn’t seen him about to sacrifice a young girl.
“You’re gonna have to explain, Oscar. Because I’m losing it here. You’re from England, right?”
“I was, until Serpens brought me here. He said he’d won me in a bet with some other god named Larynk.”
“Larynk? I could have guessed.”
“You know him?”
“Unfortunately. The damn gods and their bets. Why did he bring you here?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t have a goddamn clue. All I know is, I’ve been stuck here for eighteen years. I was an engineer at home, and now…”
“And now you’re living on a planet full of dragons. Jesus goddamn Christ. There’s so much I need to ask you. Like what was with the girl?”
Oscar held up his hand. “Not enough time. Serpens will come back soon. There’s something you need to understand about this place…what’s your name, by the way?”
Charlie went to answer, when Flink cut in. “He’s called Newchie.”
“Okay, Newchie. This is a dragon planet. The villagers, they were born as dragon riders. They used to worship Serpens, but they’d never actually seen him. He was like the gods back on earth; vague, mystical, never-present figures who demanded worship all the same. And then a few months ago, he visited them. You can imagine how surprised they were.”
Charlie thought about how, just months ago, he’d never even believed in god, or gods, let alone had seen them. Now, he’d been forced to abandon his atheism. “Let me guess…was he ranting about demi-gods, by any chance?”
“How did you know?”
“There’s a ruckus going on in the Pantheon.”
“What’s the Pantheon?”
“The god’s crib. But go on.”
“Well, things have changed. The people here used to tame dragons, and they’d ride them. They even used them for farming. And then Serpens shows up and takes the dragons away from them, and he sent them feral. Now, nobody can even leave the village without a dragon swooping down and scorching the crap out of them. We’re all dancing to his tune, because we have no choice. I know what you saw in the atrium, but believe me, it isn’t what it looks like.”
“But in the forest, we saw some kind of weird blue lights that stop the dragons.”
“That was me. I told you im an engineer, didn’t I? Well it turns out there’s this thing called mana here, and you can do all sorts of things with it.”
“Isn’t Serpens pissed that you stopped his dragons landing I the forest?”
“He made me design it. Said he needed to defend the planet from anyone flying down. He could have made it himself, except he used all of his – what did he call it? Sphere power, that’s right. He used all his sphere power creating more dragons. He’s god damn crazy, Newchie.”
“We’re getting off the planet,” said Charlie. “The first chance we get.”
Oscar held up his hand. From outside the house, they heard the unmistakable flap of wings.
“Get up and get out. Act scared, and don’t look him in the eyes,” he said.
He led them out of the house and back into the village, where a dragon swooped from the sky. This time, it wasn’t Serpens’ giant dragon. It was a smaller one, and Larynk clung to the back of it. The dragon hovered closer to the ground, and Larynk jumped off. The dragon flapped away and became a slinking shadow in the sky.
When Larynk approached them, his eyes were wide, and he muttered under his breath. He beckoned at Charlie. “Come on. We need to talk.”
Two burly villagers stepped forward, one holding a broom, the other a wood-felling axe. Larynk gave a dismissive wave. “For Arcana’s sakes. Serpens said we can stay.”
The villagers looked to Ozkar, who arched an eyebrow. Once again, Charlie couldn’t help staring at his third nipple.
“Go and ask him, if you don’t believe me,” said Larynk. “I know you’re the village elder. Serpens told me you keep a dragonrune in your house.”
Ozkar went into his home, emerging a minute later. “He speaks the truth,” he said, his British accent gone, replaced by his exotic one.
Larynk led them away from the village and toward the forest, without entering it. When they were far enough from the village, he sat down and sighed. His marble features twisted into a grimace.
“It’s official,” he said. “Serpens has lost his goddamn mind.”
“You knew him from before now?”
Larynk nodded. “If I ever went to the pantheon bars, I could count on him being there with a barrel full of the purest amber, sloshed out of his mind. He used to be so easy going…but the damn dragon god has lost it. Completely and utterly lost it.”
“Spill,” said Crosseyes.
“He left the pantheon shortly after me. He knew the score; if he didn’t join the demi-gods, they’d strip his sphere from him. He came to the place he knows best – Dragyuren, his planet. Only, he never bothered keeping his planet a secret, unlike me.”
Charlie cottoned on. “So, he’s using the dragons he created as protection against the demi-gods if they try and follow him here. Listen, there’s a guy here from earth…”
“Ozkar? Don’t believe a word he says. He’s a quasi-god.”
“Great, so there are quasi-gods now?”
“And sept-god, oct-gods…let’s not get into that. Ozkar can read anyone he sees. If he told you he’s from Earth, he’s manipulating you.”
That was hard to believe. His British accent was perfect, and it wasn’t the clipped, Queen’s English accent people expected of a British person. It was deep and northern. Not only that, but he had a copy of Dune in his house. If he wasn’t from Earth, where had he gotten it? The intergalactic version of Amazon?
Now wasn’t the time to argue the point. British or not, Ozkar had told him something, at least.
“You know the weird blue lights in the forest? It’s some kind of planetary defence.”
“Yep. Serpens is paranoid to the point he’s ready to attack his own reflection. He’s fortified the whole damn planet, he’s creating more dragons…he’s getting ready for the demi-gods. Only, he’s gone too far. If he’d talked to me, I could have warned him. But nobody listens to Larynk…”
“What has he done?”
“He’s used all his sphere power. And now, he’s getting his people to worship him like crazy while he fills it.”
“I know another god who wasted his sphere,” said Flink.
“I didn’t waste it, you ungrateful little gnome. I saved your life.” He ran his hands through his long fringe. “Serpens…I don’t like seeing him like this. He used to be like you, Charlie. Sure, he was the God of Dragons, but he never used them as an army. They were more like his pets.”
“But he’s letting us stay, right? So, if this place is fortified, we’re safe to stay here until Crosseyes can fix his ship. Or maybe we could find the portal.”
“Someone’s forgetting their oath…” said Crosseyes.
“The portal’s a no-go either way. I told you – Serpens is losing his mind. He removed his portal. He doesn�
�t want anyone getting in or off his planet without his say so. That’s why he shot your ship from the sky.”
“But if he’s so paranoid, then why’s he letting us stay?”
“This is where he’s a crafty bastard,” said Larynk. “He let me think that I’d talked him around. But he had this look in his eye…I think he wants something else. Tell you the truth, I think he would have killed me if he could. But it’s not easy to kill a god, especially if you don’t have a full sphere.”