Whom the Gods Fear (Of Gods & Mortals Book 3)

by M. M. Perry

  “Selina once said the reason she stopped being a seer is because she was tired of creating the future. She never believed what she saw was inevitable. She only felt it was inevitable when she spoke of her visions to the people she had them about. Those people would act on her visions, making them happen.

  “I don’t know if she told me that just to make me feel better. I’ve got a feeling she often told me things about her visions that weren’t always true. Maybe she just wanted me to think I had control over my own fate. In any case, I chose to believe her that day. We know something big and quite possibly terrible is going to happen. I think with the right information, we can do our best to at the very least help those it’s going to affect. And let’s not forget Callan. I think we can all agree that he is living proof we can change our destinies. His seer, if you remember, did not see him coming home again after his journey, yet here he is, safe and sound in his castle with his healthy wife.”

  Viola had momentarily forgotten about Callan’s seer’s vision. Cass was right, Callan had thwarted a seer’s prediction, though it had taken a great sacrifice from Cass to do so.

  “And,” Nat added, “there is nothing in these papers showing dragons consuming gods. I know, we might not trust completely that they have our best interests at heart when they offered that solution, but maybe, just maybe, that’s a different ending than all of this…” Nat tapped the depiction of the black ground.

  They all stared at the scraps of scroll Viola had arranged at the end of the table for a while.

  “You’re right, Nat,” Cass said finally, “we need to keep that in mind as well. For now, we should get some rest. I don’t think we’re going to learn anything more from these scrolls tonight than we already have. Tomorrow I guess we’ll make plans to visit this seer of yours, Nat.”

  Nat stood and moved to help Cass up as well. The warrior looked more worn down now than she did after the fiercest battle’s he’d watched her fight through. She’d been livelier than this even after their encounter with the aswang. Even after that he could still see the fire in her eyes. Now there was barely an ember where he’d expect to see a blaze. Nat worried that whatever Oshia had done to her, it might have changed her forever.

  Viola watched them go. Cass’ changed demeanor had not escaped her notice either. As Viola gathered the ancient scrolls together she worried about Cass. She worried for all of them. It had cost Cass more than two years of her life, and maybe broken her in a way that couldn’t be fixed, to defy fate and save one man. Viola didn’t want to think about what they may have to sacrifice to save all of Tanavia’s peoples from the destruction the scrolls seemed to promise would come if the gods, dragons and djinn all waged war.

  Chapter 5

  Cass strode down the hall toward her room. She knew her state of mind was weighing on the others. Cass could see it in their eyes every time they looked at her—the concern and worry. Despite her attempt to put on a brave front for them, it was a losing battle. She rose from bed each morning only with effort, shouldering aside the heavy weariness that filled her as best she could. She had shared only with Gunnarr that it was more than the impending war that occupied her mind, though Cass knew the others were perceptive and intelligent enough to guess at the other thoughts that plagued her. She tried her best not to show it when the others were around, but if time and circumstances had allowed she felt she would stayed in a bed until she could banish the memory of her years in captivity with Oshia. Her time trapped with him had eaten away at her resolve and sense of self, leaving her raw and weak. Current circumstances piled more responsibilities and fears on her each day—the djinn and their lies, the gods and their war, the dragons and their vague promises, Oshia and his nightly torments as she dreamed— she knew she was bowing under the pressure, and feared that any day now, she might break. When she finally navigated her way through the castle to her room, she collapsed on the bed without bothering to undress.

  She rubbed her eyes hard, then stared at the bright spots dancing across the ceiling, trying to concentrate on them while fighting to keep the memories of the last two years suppressed as they threatened to bob to the surface of her thoughts once again. As with most nights, she failed. Oshia had kept her as a kind of pet, a wild dog he took great interest in beating into submission. Shortly after Cass willingly gave herself over to him that fateful day so long ago, he had quickly lost interest in her as a sexual conquest, much to Cass’ relief. She guessed the idea of lying with her lost its savor when she stopped resisting him, denying the god of seduction a victim to seduce. She had briefly seen that as a blessing until Oshia, already bored with his new plaything, came up with a new game. Instead of winning her favor, he turned his attention to breaking her will. Oshia decided having her flesh wasn’t enough, he must have her mind as well. He determined that he would break her down and then forge the shattered pieces into his own acolyte, someone who truly worshipped, if not him, then at least his power. His long experience with human emotion, sifting through what attracted and repulsed, what compelled and deterred, gave him a keen insight into how best to go about breaking her will. He never raised a hand against her. Instead, he focused his wrath on others, parading a constant barrage of human suffering before Cass, forcing her to observe, powerless to stop it.

  “Warriors are nothing,” he said as he callously doled out his punishment on humans all over Tanavia. “You aren’t even a grain of sand before the river of my power. The things you do, they mean nothing. If you accomplish something, it’s because I let you, not because you beat me. These people are all evidence of that.”

  Throughout her trials, she clung desperately to the belief that he was wrong—that what she and her fellow warriors undertook did make a difference. She was sure as soon as she gave up that belief and knelt before him, declaring him to have all power over her, she’d be tossed aside like a ragged doll. It wasn’t death Cass feared—she had faced down death many times before—it was the absolute certainty she had that if she let herself be convinced that the warriors path, her path, the very core belief she had built her life and self around, was futile, then it would shatter her mind and unravel her sense of self so thoroughly that after that, death would be a mercy. She needed to believe that what she chose to do with her life had meaning. But each day’s abuse eroded a bit more of her resolve, and as the days became weeks, then months, and finally years, Cass was unsure of her abilities to resist.

  Cass had all but given up hope of escaping alive when Oshia pulled out the sunstone to show her. When it flashed before her eyes, some part of her was instinctively drawn to it. Inexplicably, she felt it belonged to her. She remembered the day it happened perfectly. Cass closed her eyes and allowed that one memory to rise above the rest and fill her mind, crowding out the images of Oshia dealing out suffering and death while she was forced to watch. Exhausted as she was, which seemed to be her normal state of being despite how much she slept, she couldn’t discern when she crossed from wakeful recollection to lucid dream.

  As the light of the sunstone hit her eyes Cass felt it blow the dust from her long unused courage. A deep reserve of fighting spirit she hadn’t realized remained was tapped at the sight of the stone. In an instant, Cass’ previously dull will to escape became a keen thing that cut through the bonds of depression and ennui that Oshia had been so meticulously trussing her with. She didn’t understand how, but she knew the stone was instrumental to her freedom.

  “This is it, you know,” Oshia said, holding the sunstone to the light. “How I conquered all the old gods in one blow. This small thing did them all in. They, like you, turned out to be nothing compared to me.”

  Cass knew she needed to get the stone from him. She knew of only one sure fire way to do it. She had to play on his vanity.

  “Really, now? That’s how you turned them all to stone?” Cass said incredulously.

  “Humans will believe anything,” Oshia said, smirking at Cass. “The gods were never turned to stone. Their sunstone stole t
heir life force from them. Those statues on the plains were created by Kane. He was mad at me for not allowing a ‘fair’ battle as he puts it. But he’s always been belligerent. And a bit stupid. He put the statues up to commemorate a battle that never happened. He has a strange sense of honor, that one. Thought that would somehow make up for the deception.”

  “So a fight never took place there?” Cass asked, feigning interest, her goal still focused on getting the sunstone.

  “No, we just lured everyone there with the promise of some ceremonial battle, or punishment, it didn’t really matter. We all love our theatrics. And those plains are quite the stage,” Oshia replied, shaking his pretty head. “I told them I had a plan to bring out the thief, the one who stole Timta’s sunstone. That I could make the thief confess and return it. That it would be this grand show of power before they mortals. Punishment for those who betray the gods. I still am a little shocked something so simple worked. It wasn’t a genius plan by any means. But gods can be foolish, their considerable power tricking them into thinking themselves invincible. It’s a trait I have from time to time but I’m smart enough to recognize it and guard against it. The old ones did not. When they were all there, I commanded the stone to take their life from them. What giveth can taketh away.”

  Oshia laughed at his own joke. Cass just put on her most skeptical look.

  “The stone,” Oshia explained, trying harder to impress upon Cass how clever he was when he saw the look on her face, “in the hand of Timta can only bring light. But in the hands of any other god, can take light away. Gods are light manifest. I took their light away. Well, trapped it, anyway. They’re all still alive, off in some place, of that I’m fairly certain.”

  “That piece of amber?” Cass scoffed. “If you didn’t want to tell me how you conquered the old gods you could’ve just said so. Lying about some useless piece of amber is pointless.”

  “It is not amber,” Oshia said riling. “Here, feel the power for yourself.”

  Cass was surprised it happened so quickly. When Oshia thrust the sunstone into her hand the smile spread across her face so slowly it felt as if time had stopped. Oshia looked from her smile to the stone in her hands and his composure fell. He tried to remain calm as he spoke to Cass.

  “Now you know I speak the truth. Return the stone to me,” he said holding out his hand.

  Cass’ courage welled within her as she closed her fingers around the stone. The sadness of the last two years receded before the light of the stone. She felt its light wash over and through her in pulsing waves, each one making her feel stronger. Right then, she knew with a certainty she’d hadn’t felt in years, that she and her fellow warriors were not only a force of good in the world, but they were far more than grains of sand before the tides of fate, that they were a powerful force that made a difference in the lives of men. She knew that they were strong enough to take on the gods themselves. Her grip on the sunstone tightened as she shook her head.

  “I don’t think so.”

  As Cass fell into a deeper sleep, true dreams rushed in to take over, and the memory of that day slipped from her mind.

  Cass woke from a foul dream of Oshia to a gentle squeeze on her shoulder. Gunnarr was there smiling down at her. She sat up and gripped his hand tightly in hers. She knew their words had to be chosen carefully. Outside the warded rooms Manfred and Viola had established, the gods and their long reaching minds were a problem. Cass knew her connection to Timta made it that much easier for the god to focus on her. So she and Gunnarr spoke in vagaries when they had to, but mostly kept their private conversations to things Timta would pay no mind to.

  “It’s worse,” Cass said simply. This topic, she wished Timta would listen in on. Timta was her mother, that much Cass had finally come to grips with, but she wasn’t motherly in the slightest. Cass called out to Timta in the days after her memory returned, begging Timta stop the intrusions of Oshia into her mind while she slept, but Timta had never responded. Even if Timta’s reply had only been to tell her daughter that she could not do as she asked, Cass thought, would have been better than silence. Instead, she was ignored. Cass suspected that Selina had requested Timta’s presence as well, interceding for relief on Cass’ behalf. Cass read it in the dark looks Selina cast skyward when she thought Cass wasn’t looking. Selina never spoke of it, likely not wishing to increase Cass’ disappointment in her divine mother even further. Cass didn’t think that was possible anymore.

  Gunnarr’s other hand gripped the edge of the nearby nightstand. At her words his knuckles turned white as the muscles in his hand involuntarily contracted in anger, splintering the wood of the table. Cass pulled his hand away from the table, gathered it together with his other, and clasped them both between hers.

  “Oshia is not hiding in my room disguised as an end table,” she feigned a smile to soothe his anger.

  “I will tear his head from his body,” Gunnarr said in a steely voice.

  “Try not to think on it too much. The dreams won’t last. This petty revenge will end once he’s too focused elsewhere to visit my dreams whenever I fall asleep. He won’t be able to torment me for much longer. We don’t have the luxury to worry about it in any case.”

  “Maybe the castle enchanter can mix up something to help you. A potion for a dreamless sleep?”

  “No,” Cass said firmly. She softened her tone. “If I was to ask the enchanter, Callan would eventually find out. And he can’t know. If he thinks Oshia has a direct line to me it would just reinforce his belief that we should leave immediately, and were not ready for that yet. This is a safe place at the moment. Maybe the only safe place. The second Oshia found I was away from here, he came for me.”

  “Xenor?”

  “Yes, but nothing came of it,” Cass replied, hoping to calm Gunnarr. “Manfred pulled me away in time.”

  “He attacked even with all the djinn?”

  Cass sighed, tucking her knees under her arms.

  “They are no longer a neutral party, it seems. I’d say from their behavior, they’ve sided with Oshia. My guess is he’s promised to free them of their curse if they side with him. I’ll catch you up on all that later. For now, it matters little. For the time being, we are safe from Oshia and his allies. Faylendar is a city of the old gods. They watch over it. They will not allow the new gods to destroy it or to attack the heart of it to get to me. At least I hope so. Not many cities kept with the old gods as much as Faylendar did all these years. Even if that is only wishful thinking, the dragons have promised to remain close by, in case we have need. That is likely contributing to the hesitation to attack Faylendar, if nothing else. For now, in any case. I wish I could say Timta is keeping close watch over me as well, but she’s ignored all my prayers. For whatever reason, she chooses not to speak with me. So, here is where we stay until it is safe to do otherwise.”

  “We can’t stay here forever,” Gunnarr said.

  “No. But when we leave, we need to be ready.”

  “Why does Timta not help you with this? It is because of her all of this has happened.” Gunnarr grumbled.

  Cass grunted in disgust.

  “Her affections for me run about as deep as any god’s affections for a mortal. I am not a true daughter to her, like Issa. I was born of her joining with a human, out of necessity, nothing more. I do not think she loves me the way a mother does. That’s what Selina is for, in her eyes, so she’s freed herself of her obligation to me in that regard. At least that’s how it seems to me. In any case, I really do think it will stop soon enough. Oshia cannot continue to focus on me for much longer. If he does so, surely it would help Timta more quickly locate him, as she has such a strong connection to me.”

  “Well, I shall still pray that I am the first to find him, and not the gods. They will be too kind to him,” Gunnarr growled.

  “Let us rest,” Cass said soothingly. “It’s possible Callan will get his wish and we’ll leave sooner than later, if Ledina seems safe enough.”

&n
bsp; “Ledina?”

  “I’ll explain later. For now, let us just take comfort in each other’s warmth. For tonight, let us rest as if there are no troubles in the world that we have to contend with. The bed is soft, and I’ve warmed it,” she moved over to make room for Gunnar. “It may be a long while before we have such accommodations again.”

  Gunnarr slipped into bed and wrapped his arms around Cass. After a while, their breath deepened and they drifted into a peaceful sleep, both hoping it would not be their last.

  Anya woke abruptly, startled by the sound of people approaching—the last thing she expected to wake to considering where she had spent the night. She was surrounded by a diverse flight of dragons, ranging broadly in type and size. Some were bunched in groups communing in the inexplicable, silent way that dragons did. Others were feasting on one of several mammoth carcasses that dotted the roost, harvested periodically by the dragons from the large herds that roamed the dragon sanctuary. Anya had been shocked over the last few days to see how rapidly the dragons were depleting what she had once considered an inexhaustible supply. Dragons’ appetites did not normally match their great size; a single adult mammoth would normally sate a flight of dragons. It was clear they weren’t visiting her end of the sanctuary simply to dine, however. Whether they stopped to dine or not, each dragon always first made its way to the shelf that the star dragons had claimed as their own. Anya wondered what they were organizing. She wouldn’t have a chance to discover the meaning of the sudden and unexpected increase in dragon movement through the sanctuary until she had another chance to speak with the Ambassador, the dragons’ chosen intermediary with humankind. Only the Ambassador had the capacity, or perhaps the desire—Anya couldn’t be certain which—to communicate in the mundane manner that humans did, as opposed to relying on the dragons’ own unspoken form of communication. Only the Ambassador could enlighten her, if he so chose, and so far he had remained silent on the matter.