The First Technomancer by Rodney C. Johnson

Chapter 1. The Devil Comes...
     
    Who said Merlin is dead? If my discovery at
Granith Tor is any indication, the man who history recalls as
Merlin Emrys roams this universe still. Certainly the Lady Imogen
Drake's recovery and restoration of the weapon Excalibur to King
Odin confirms the existence of the warlord Uther Pendragon, which
implies also a King Arthur. Geoffrey of Monmouth and Sir Thomas
Mallory just didn't get all the details exactly right. There is
little doubt. Merlin was real! Born of a demon, he was both a would
be Messiah, and madman of the forest glen.
    – Oriole 'Orin' Amirjeen, Private
Correspondence With The Arclayht Triad
     
     
    [653 BC. Achaemenid Empire, Persia]
    The pillar of whirling sand and white fire
resolved itself into a form, that of a humanoid male, notably
though, a winged being, whose crystalline-like feathered pinions
folded down and out-of-the-way, to be hidden beneath a billowing
black shroud. Glancing about, the sharply goateed man sighed, while
he thought: Transmutation requires of me much too great power to
build such a crude shell in order to contain my code's resplendent
likeness. Yet, it's the only way to interact with these creatures.
And I have a goal! He painfully realized without Araboth's
resources he'd need be very mindful with his matrix. No new pod
awaited for him to hatch out of, no resurrection for an outcast.
Though, that thought provided him a mirthful chuckle, what he was
about to do here went against all Vril culture and teachings
regarding death and life.
    Indeed, the newcomer to Earth did have a
goal. His rebel Legion had gathered intelligence that El-Shaddai,
his very own twin brother had begun to lay the groundwork for their
father's master plans, and that it somehow involved persuading
these humans to join them in everlasting faithfulness.
    Better to beat them at their own game. He thought.
    The newcomer had a name. Actually he had a
host of names. This was not his first time on Earth, and the humans
who either feared him, or embraced him here applied varying terms
of accuracy to his personage. Upon his expulsion from Araboth the
title Shaitan stuck, though his one and only proper appellation,
Iblis Jinn would've been his preference to be glorified under.
    Iblis Jinn realized hunger clawed at his
newly materialized internal organs. Mortal coils are so
fragile. Bodies born of sand and fire require nourishment. Ah, but he thought, yet only with a body can I father a
Messiah!
     
     
    On the shores of Lake
Urmia, Iblis Jinn came to a village. The sun had begun to set on
the horizon leaving a warm orange haze in the sky which reminded
Jinn of Araboth. Someday I shall reclaim
my place in Heaven!
    More immediate matters
however called Iblis back to the moment. Food!
    The smell of roasting meat
reached Jinn's flaring nostrils, his mouth watered. Sweet aromas
played on the air. Corporeal lusts overcame him. Refined Vril
senses detected human females about; they were a sort of addiction
to his kind. “First food, and then I shall choose.” He said to
himself even as his mortal coil surged with primal needs. As he
walked past a fire pit in the center of the village his urges fed
the flames which reached upward in a roar hot enough to forge
steel. Dancing girls and onlookers paused in wonder at the
enlivened fire as well as the stately shrouded stranger now in
their midst which it had heralded. “I've come from a long
distance,” Iblis said. Across the stars,
to tell the truth. Yet he did not say such
to these humans, still barely risen up from the great deluge which
had nearly wiped them off this small planet. “My name is Iblis
Jinn.” Let them remember it! He thought. “And I seek food and shelter, good
people.”
    Now these humans were no
fools. They could recognize something 'other' about Iblis Jinn.
Fading memories of star travelers, one time Annunaki masters, who
long ago had ruled over mankind, persisted in the collective
memory. Even this place's name: