Cults of the Dragon Gods Read online

  I faintly sigh. "The engineering team from the company that originally developed these chips was murdered on Jinmu's orders. Even though he did not understand the technology, he was more than smart and cagey enough to realize the power that control over this technology would grant him. He has always been a decisive man who would do anything to protect his own interests."

  Dacbold half-turns toward me. "The way you talk about Jinmu, I can't be sure whether you like him, respect him, or hate him."

  For a time, I stare at the chip patterning machinery. My feelings regarding Jinmu are complex. Like, respect, and hate are just a few emotions that man stirs up inside of me. Even though he betrayed me and sold me to the DokkAlfar, for more than a decade before that, he was the closest thing that I had to any kind of family. After the accident, when my aunt was seldom home and mostly ignored me, Ryouske Urehara became my de facto parent or guardian.

  I am going to kill Jinmu, and I hate him for putting me in a position where I have to do it. I want to let him live, but whoever stands in the way of me killing his daughter and her friends will be destroyed. There is no way that I will allow Selestra, Mei Urehara, to live.

  "… and. Brand."

  I look at Elan. I was lost in my memories of the past. I am not sure how long she has been saying my name for.

  A slight smile turns a corner of Elan's lips, but it is not reflected in her eyes. If she were anyone else, I would say that the expression in her eyes was worry. Maybe, it is. Over the past couple of months, she's been acting differently, strangely. She is still a vicious, murderous bitch with anyone but me, but the side of herself she keeps revealing toward me is softer.

  Dacbold clears his throat, and I turn my eyes from Elan to him.

  "You have a very strong variant of pattern sight. Don't you?"

  I nod.

  "Look at these machines. Look at the patterns that they are infusing into the chips. If you watch the way they move and flow and imagine the lows and highs in it to be a sea of 0s and 1s, you can start to see the logic processes. I do not know what to call this. Whether it's a spell pattern formation or something else entirely, I really can't say, but what I am certain of is that while it is a type of computer program, is is one created using Trinity."

  I glance at Dacbold. "I already knew it was something like that. The question is how did something like this ever get created on Earth? This is clearly not the work of the Jotun Lords. You may be right that it has something to do with the True Dragons. So, where do you think this came from?."

  Dacbold frowns. "If Woden or some other God from Taereun did not bring it here, I can only think of one other way it would wind up on Earth?"

  "Do you think a ship or something else related to the True Dragons somehow wound up on Earth?"

  Dacbold shrugs. "That's what that I'm afraid of. What if there was the remains of a Dragon ship, or probe, or some other piece of technology that fell to Earth? That purple platform that was in Area 51 was sure as hell like nothing that I have ever seen before. Even if I didn't get a chance to examine it closely, I am mostly certain that it was made of metal. Did you ever hear of or see any metal on Earth that was that color? There is nothing even close."

  For a time, none of us say anything. Each lost in their own thoughts, we stare at the patterning machinery. If there really is the remains a True Dragon ship on Earth, why is it that Woden has not come to Earth in his real body or a powerful avatar body and claimed it? That purple platform with its throne and its stela-like uprights was clearly something that did not originate on Earth. The metal was Elemental in nature, but that does not mean that it was crafted by Dragons. Whatever the case may be, there are secrets buried on this world. I do not want those secrets to fall into the hands of Woden, the other Jotun Lords, or the little worms. Unfortunately, I am not sure that there is any way to stop them from obtaining those secrets.

  If I am able to launch the nuclear arsenals that have been secretly hidden by the Earth's governments, it should at least turn the Earth into a nuclear wasteland. With the Power that they control that would still not stop any of them from obtaining the remains, but hopefully, it would slow them down.

  If there was time, I would stay and find a way to claim any Dragon artifacts on Earth for myself. The knowledge and Power that I could possibly obtain from them would make almost any risk worth it. My greatest weakness is that I am still too weak. I need to seize any opportunity to become stronger, but I do not see any way to acquire this harvest for myself. However, if the Earth becomes uninhabitable, it should delay the Transcendent beings that are fucking with Earth. This way, at some point in the future, I may have a chance to return and claim the secrets that are buried here for myself.

  But first comes this patterning machinery. "Elan, can you craft a ward that will contain this patterning machinery and lock away the spell formation that it is creating?"

  With curiosity visible in her eyes, Elan stares at me for a moment. "Why do you want this contained?"

  "I want to keep it isolated. I don't know how it might affect things other than electronics."

  Behind me, Dacbold reveals a rare smile of approval. "If you want help with researching this thing, I will help you. I want to learn how to make evolving patterns like this. Learning how to craft a pattern like this would be worth almost any price."

  Other than Thorrin, I really do not know the other Dvergar well, and Dacbold is the one I find hardest to understand. At least, whatever he is thinking, it does not seem like he is going to try and oppose me. In the past week, I have heard him speak more than I did during the decade plus of The Great Fuck Over. According to Thorrin, when Dacbold was on Earth, he was in the Army and was a combat engineer. He should be college educated with a degree in some engineering field. Acquiring knowledge and making use of resources would likely appeal to a man like that.

  Elan stares at the patterning machinery for a few minutes. "I might be able to, but I will need time to analyze this pattern and create something based off the existing wards that I know."

  *** Arizona – Earth ***

  Return: Day 344

  August 7, 2078

  (Thorrin)

  When I struggle back to consciousness, it is dark outside. I do not know what drugs Consuela used on us, but after being tortured with the slave collar, I was no longer able to fight off its effects. I am not sure how much time has passed. Is still the same night, or has it been a day or more?

  Looking around, I am still in Consuela's dining room. Pancho and the girl on the floor next to me. Both are still unconscious. We are wearing nothing but our underwear. All of our outer clothing, jewelry, and equipment has been taken from us.

  Standing in one corner of the room, with his hand resting on the butt of his gun, the security guard, Jordi, watches us. His cold, empty, killer's eyes give the impression that he is a snake in human form.

  Click. Click. Click.

  The sound of hard soled shoes on a tile floor reaches my ears. As the footsteps stop, a soft clattering reaches my ears.

  "Alberto, welcome." The voice is Consuela's.

  "Consuela, it is a pleasure to see you. You are as beautiful as ever." The man's voice has a cultured air to it, and he is speaking in Spanish.

  Even though it is been decades since my work with the automation systems for automobile plants in Mexico, I am still more or less fluent in Spanish as they speak the language in Mexico. This Alberto's accent is not quite the same as someone from Mexico. My guess would be that he is from further south, maybe Peru.

  "Enough of your flattery. I have been an old woman for years."

  "If you are old, I would wish that all the young women became old."

  Other than some rustling and the shuffling of feet, the is silence for the next twenty to twenty-five seconds.

  "Have you learned anything from the Dvergar and its companions?"

  "No. Since capturing them, they have been unconscious. Even with enough tranquilizers in its food to put a bull under for
a week, that Dvergar was still on his feet. If I had not threatened his companions, capturing him discreetly might have been a problem."

  Alberto chuckles. "I have been through the gate to Taereun. Even with what we have been taught, we would be like children compared with the Adepts over there. Being raised in an environment where they learn to use their Power from such a young age, they are practically superhuman. No. Compared with us, they are superhuman."

  "Do you know what our superiors want with them, with the Dvergar?"

  "I do not know, but the orders to capture them come straight from the Mistress."

  "Come, I have them in the dining room." The sounds of two pairs of footsteps on tile follow Consuela's words.

  As Consuela enters the dining room and sees me staring at her, there may be just the faintest hint of surprise cracking that mask of hers. Her eyes are just a fraction wider than before, as she returns my stare.

  The man who enters the dining room behind her has a healthy suntan and a full head of thick, grey hair. His thin, stern featured face gives the appearance of a man in his sixties. Even though he is clothed in a white suit, it does little to hide his lean, whipcord musculature from my eyes. The easy grace with which he moves belongs to a younger man and a well trained fighter.

  After a brief glance at Pancho and the girl, the man settles his gaze on me. There seems to be a hint of curiosity in his eyes, but there is no sign of hostility. "I am Alberto Navarro. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Senior Sawyer."

  Hearing Navarro speak my name, I cannot keep the shocked expression off my face. The way he said my name, he was not guessing. He knows exactly who I was.

  "You seem rather well-informed." I try to keep my tone of voice blasé and uninterested, but I am not sure how successful I am.

  Navarro smiles. It is a friendly expression that is reflected in his eyes. "You have been on Taereun for decades. You should be well aware of the Power, the knowledge, and the reach that the real Gods have. We are their servants. Do you think that just because we are on Earth would be unaware of something as simple as your real name?"

  "Harold Sawyer is dead. His body was cremated and his ashes spread on the wind, as was requested in his last will and testament."

  Navarro laughs amusedly. "You can call yourself by another name. You can rationalize. You can pretend. In the end, you are still Harold T. Sawyer.

  "You should feel blessed; the mighty Feathered Sky Lords, the Chosen of the Feathered Serpents of the Thirteen Heavens, have an interest in you. Their representative, the Mistress of La Raza de la Serpiente, has given the order for you to be brought into her presence."

  I return Navarro's smile. "Would it surprise you that I do not give a rat's ass what they want?"

  Navarro's smile never wavers. "Consuela, my dearest, would you please educate this gringo fool in proper manners?"

  "AAAARRRRRR!"

  As the pain makes it feel like my body is being torn apart, I connect help but scream. The intensity of the pain is several times greater than when Consuela use the collar previously. I do not know how long the pain drags on. It feels like hours, but it cannot be more than a few minutes. Unable to properly control my limbs, I am flopping around on the floor like a fish out of water.

  "What the hell?" Pancho's mumbled words are so softly spoken that they are barely audible. My continuous agonized screams have woken him, but the drugs have him so out of it that he does not seem aware of what is happening around him.

  "Enough."

  In response to Navarro's single word command, Consuela ceases torturing me with the collar and holds out her hand with the ring on it where Navarro can see it. Looking at the ring, Navarro's eyebrows raise, and the smiles.

  Looking at me again, Navarro sighs. "The reputation that Dvergar have for their toughness is well and truly deserved. The level Consuela had that collar set at would have killed the human. If you do not want to find out what the limits of the collar are, I suggest you speak with respect and grace about La Raza de la Serpiente and the Mistress."

  I almost tell Navarro to go fuck himself, but my prudence outweighs my anger. Clamping my jaws shut, I roll into a seated position. With my hands bound behind my back, it is a struggle to get to my feet.

  Navarro and Consuela watch me without any expression. They give the distinct feeling that in their eyes I am something less than human. Since becoming a Dvergar, this is the first time that I have ever seen anyone or anything other than an Alfar look at me like that.

  Their attitude irks me, but my fear of the collar keeps me from saying anything. As I realize that I am afraid, a deep-seated feeling of shame engulfs my heart.

  "Much better. When I was told that you were in a Dvergar body, I was worried that I might be forced to seriously injure you to force your compliance, but it seems that in the end you are no different from common Earth human trash." The blatant condescension and Navarro's smile makes him appear as an elite looking down on something he sees as a piece of shit.

  "I don't get it. Who are you people? What is this La Raza the last Serpiente? Who are the Feathered Sky Lords?"

  Both Navarro and Consuela appear faintly surprised. Navarro stares at me for a moment with pursed lips before speaking. "I can understand you not being aware of La Raza but do you really not know what the Feathered Sky Lords are?"

  I do not bother trying to hide my confusion. "How would I know who or what they are?"

  "The Feathered Sky Lords are Dragons. Gods that live among humans and bring the wisdom and rule of the Thirteen Heavens directly those fortunate enough to live in their kingdoms."

  With my mouth hanging slightly open, I stare at Navarro for several moments. "Dragons?"

  Navarro smiles. "Dragons. The children of the Great Dragons, the True Gods, that were treacherously slain by the rock apes. The same rock apes as the body you now wear. I told you, you should feel blessed. Rather than simply exterminating you as the useless vermin you are, the Feathered Sky Lords have an interest in and a use for you."

  There is too much about Earth that I appear to be unaware of, but my main worry should be how to escape from these people's clutches. Once I am free, I can focus on digging out Earth's buried history.

  Navarro looks over his shoulder, back toward the front door of the mansion. "Enrique, bring your squad and take these prisoners to the van."

  Missing Corpses and Walking Corpses

  *** Central California – Earth ***

  Return: Day 344

  August 7, 2078

  (Brand)

  The dawn sunlight brightening the room through the gaps in the blinds wakes me. Then again, it might have been pain that woke me up. That burning pain subsuming my Body, Mind, and Soul is worse now than it was last night. Other than being in pain, I do not feel like there is anything wrong with me. I do not understand why the pain would be getting worse.

  Elan and Angelique are both still asleep, one on either side of me. After I showed Elan the patterning machinery and we ate, the three of us spent most of the evening in bed together in a threesome. It was the first time that I have had both of them at the same time. Usually, one of them is watching while I am fucking the other. It felt strange having two women trying to outdo one another in giving me pleasure. If I did not have so much control over the autonomic functions of my body, I would have been lucky to last five minutes.

  As I look at the two women snuggled up against me, I cannot help but smile faintly. The two of them are as different as the sun and the moon. It is not just the physical differences. Despite the violence, the abuse, the torture, the killing, the radical emotional swings, and the obsession, Elan has generally accepted herself and her life. When she sleeps, she is at peace. Angelique is still torn between who she was, who she is, and who she might become. She tosses and turns in her sleep and is often plagued by nightmares.

  Beyond my lust, my desire to fuck them, and my desire to own them, I am not sure what I feel for either of these women. The only thing I am certai
n of is that I have no intention of giving either of them up, but I worry about will happen to them if the keep following me. I have no interest in settling down and starting a family. I do not even have any particular interest in just shacking up with one or both of them. I do not know what the future will bring for any of us. Gor'achen already feel like a chain around my neck, and sooner rather than later, I will be leaving it, perhaps forever.

  Angelique's heart rate increases, and she begins to moan softly in her sleep. They are not the sounds of pleasure, but rather, the sounds of fear. She starts mumbling, but I cannot make out the words. After a few minutes, her eyes snap wide open, and she looks around anxiously. Her breath comes in rapid gasps, and she tightly grips my biceps.

  When I rub her head softly, Angelique shivers, shifts her arms around my neck, and clings to me. Even with her eyes tightly closed, tears are visible at the corners.

  "What were you dreaming about?" My words are whispered into her ear.

  For several minutes, Angelique does not say anything, but her breathing and heart rate slow down.

  "The reform school. I don't want to talk about it."

  As I caress her back, Angelique shivers with pleasure. She starts licking my neck and nibbling on my neck and ear. Reaching between my legs, she grabs my dick. Her firm tits are pressed against my chest, and her nipples are already hard. "Make me feel good. Help me forget the way they hurt me. I do not want to remember the way they held me down and licked me while the guard shoved her club inside of me. I only want to know what it feels like when you touch me and fuck me."