Whom the Gods Hate (Of Gods & Mortals Book 2)

by M. M. Perry

  “I thought we came here to talk. We’re leaving already?” Patch asked.

  He had remained quiet during most of the introductions, watching everyone closely. He felt more out of place than before, even more than when they were on the passenger liner and he had to contend with so many other humans. On the ship, he had to remain in close quarters with Suman the entire time. He thought at the time it was the most uncomfortable he had been in years. Here in the little garden, he decided, was worse.

  Now this, he thought, this is perhaps the most uncomfortable I’ve felt in all my life.

  In part it was because Suman and Cass were keeping his treacherous secret. He knew of no reasons why they would do that. It would have been easy for them to mention it, and then enlist the group to watch him for any suspicious action or malicious intent. Now, though, they viewed him as an ally of Cass. It was as if a boulder was balancing over his head, waiting for the moment to drop. Patch figured it would crush him just as he began to get comfortable. He imagined that was when Suman would blurt out that Patch wasn’t to be trusted.

  Patch had decided that until that moment came, he had to spend his time wisely. He was busy observing everyone and trying to get his bearings, and hoping for any angle that might offer him leverage. He needed to know these new travelers to find out their weaknesses should he need to exploit anything to escape should they decide to do away with him after all. Patch was under the assumption that even Cass and Suman were just biding their time, waiting to kill him off after his usefulness ran out; such was his dark suspicions of humans in general. No human had ever helped him before.

  Patch was thinking of ways to delay them a bit from leaving the garden. If they ran off now they would break into groups, and he’d be isolated again, he was sure of that. He needed more information before he could form a plan. What kind of plan exactly he wasn’t sure yet. Not only did he not trust Cass and Suman to leave him unharmed, he did not trust Suman’s assurance that Oshia would not be an issue. Patch had not lived this long without many reserve plans in his life.

  Everyone turned to Patch who shrugged noncommittally.

  “I think it might be in our best interest to know what’s happening next. Some of us might not want to continue on. I notice the older gentleman has already taken his leave.”

  “This is actually a good idea,” Anya concurred. “Where we travel will not be without perils. And I have made many assumptions which I should verify before we leave. It seems strange to believe otherwise since it is what his people have been after for hundreds of years, but I am correct in thinking the Djinn is here because he seeks a dragon, right?”

  Everyone turned to Manfred in surprise. The small Djinn just rubbed his goatee nonchalantly before nodding.

  “I will not remain as enigmatic as our little blue friend here. I know how that can be frustrating,” Anya said to the group to regain their attention. “His people have visited our people many times before seeking a dragon for their prophecy. My people are ukrotiteli ognya in the old tongue. Tamers are what the people who know of us outside of our village call us. It isn’t really a correct title, as we tame nothing. We protect a dragon sanctuary that we have tended to for thousands of years.”

  “Dragons still live?” Viola asked.

  “They do. We have made sure of that. We are the protectors of those whom the gods have destroyed and hate above all others,” Anya said.

  “And blue-y here wants one?” Suman asked.

  “The Djinn have a prophecy; at least, if we haven’t been lied to, they do. I know little of it other than it requires a dragon to fulfill it. We have never given them passage into the sacred grounds,” Anya said glowering at Manfred.

  “What does that have to do with me?” Cass asked.

  Anya looked at the Djinn.

  “That is a good question. I am sure you have somehow tied her to what you want or you would not be here. You know our people have said no to you before. You must believe we will not refuse this time or you would not have bothered to come. So tell me what it is you are scheming now or leave, and know this, I will skin you alive, you blue demon, if I think you are lying.”

  “She will need the dragon to return the sunstone to its rightful owner. The why isn’t really important. It just is.”

  Gunnarr started to interrupt.

  “Now just shush,” the Djinn continued, “even if you insisted on knowing, I couldn’t tell you. The scrolls are very vague and open to interpretation. The prophecy is told in images, not words. What I can assure you is that they clearly show a woman riding on the back of a dragon over the Plains of the Dead Gods. In her hand is the sun stone. When they,” Manfred gestured at Gunnarr, Nat and Viola, “came to me I saw they had Cass’ flask, the one I had given her years ago. My first thought was that she was in trouble. I looked for her in the way my people can, at least for those we have met. I saw her, and more importantly I saw she had the stone. I knew then that she must be the woman on the dragon. It’s unlikely yet another person would manage to nab the sun stone from Oshia ever again. If he ever gets it back you can be sure he won’t ever let it leave his sight again. So it has to be her.”

  After he finished, Manfred clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet which, coupled with his size, made him look more than a little like a child expecting praise from his parents. When, after a few moments, he determined no praise was forthcoming for his erudite insights, he sighed and continued.

  “You can help me and, in turn, earn my assistance, or you can just take her off on your own to your sanctuary and hope Oshia never finds her. And he might not. The magic of the area may shield her from him, at least for a time. But eventually he will find her. And when he does, he will find not just her, but the dragons your people have worked so hard to preserve and repopulate. And then there will be chaos. A battle the likes of which the world has not seen since the Old Gods vanished. The dragons may prevail. They may not. Regardless of who perseveres, the waste they will make of the world during the struggle will be very, very bad for everyone, you can be sure of that.”

  “Would the result not be the same if a dragon suddenly appeared in the world again? Would that not set the gods to seeking out their hiding place anyway?” Anya asked pointedly.

  “Dragon keeper, if things go as I suspect they will, the gods will be a touch too occupied to worry about dragons. They’ll have bigger lizards to fry,” Manfred smiled at his own joke.

  Anya thought for just a moment before turning back to the group. The conflict of her thoughts was clear on her face.

  “Driscoll asked me to do whatever I could to help. However, I have dedicated my life to one task, protecting the dragons from the gods,” Anya stalled out, biting her lip as if doing so might hold back the words that were about to come from her own rebellious mouth. “I have my misgivings, but the Djinn is not wrong. The magic of the sanctuary will not hide you forever. And it was the oracle that sent you here. They cannot lie. I will… I believe I must take you to get a dragon, and quickly. But,” Anya held up her hand as the group started to stand, “I should tell you now, getting a dragon will not be easy. We do not keep them penned up like beasts of burden. They are free and wild and every bit as dangerous as the legends say. Our task is only to protect them from prying eyes, not to tame them… if such a thing were even possible. Where they live, it is dangerous. Not only because of the dragons that live there, though that would be enough to keep most sane people out, but also because of the other great beasts that live there as well. I cannot promise your safety.”

  Gunnarr nodded solemnly as he addressed the group, “I am committed to see this through, of course. I will see Cass’s memory restored. But I would think no less of anyone here if they did not want to accompany us. You have done all that was needed, and more than I asked or could have hoped for.”

  Gunnarr quietly hoped Cass’ new companions would choose to stay behind. Much like Viola, he felt a pang of jealou
sy whenever they addressed her in the casual manner he so wished to.

  “I’m apparently immortal for the time being due to a strange god loophole I’ve recently discovered and I want to exploit it just a bit more. Besides, I’ve nothing better to do,” Suman said, “and Patch here is my slave, so he has to come too,” he said, leaning over to drape one arm around Patch’s neck.

  Patch shoved Suman away angrily. The dark man grinned impishly back at him.

  “I’ll go. Because I choose to go,” Patch said glaring at Suman. “Because I’m getting a king’s ransom to go, not a slave’s wages. Because this idiotic one found me so valuable a companion he risked being eaten by an oversized snake just to find out how to keep me around rather than doing the smart thing and figuring out how to be rid of me.”

  “Hmm. I should have asked that, shouldn’t I?” Suman said.

  Nat and Gunnarr exchanged a glance, both wondering simultaneously how Cass had ended up with these two. Gunnarr then looked at Viola.

  “Oh no,” Viola said sternly, “I’m going. I need to make sure you don’t get eaten by krakens and the like. I can handle myself.”

  “It’s settled then,” Gunnarr said to Anya, “we’re all going.”

  “Alright then. We head south. We should go now. When there is a god on your tail, it is best not to tarry in any one place too long,” Anya said.

  They gathered up their things and headed out of the little garden. Cass let everybody pass her by, waiting discreetly in the hopes that she might get a moment to gather herself. The last hour or so had been hectic and more than a little disappointing. Suman never said everything would be solved when they docked, but Cass had hoped anyway.

  She noticed the Djinn was still standing in the garden with her, staring at her. She sighed. Even now she could not steal a few minutes for herself.

  “You are upset,” the Djinn said, his tenor uncharacteristically kind.

  Cass wasn’t surprised by his seemingly genuine concern. What few memories she now had of her old life all pertained to Manfred and the night in the pub. He had been cheeky and condescendingly rude at times but when all the other Djinn had gone away, he had opened up about his problems and they talked through the night and into the morning. He had become a different person then, away from his brethren, both vulnerable and kind. Right now he was someone she felt she could trust with her feelings and unspoken thoughts.

  “I feel like I’ve let people down. Those people you were travelling with… They hide it well, but it its clear how much it hurts them that I can’t remember them. It’s hard to accept that there’s nothing I can do about it, that I can’t be the person they remember,” Cass said miserably.

  “A warrior still, even without your memories,” Manfred said smiling.

  Cass looked confused.

  “That night, you remember now, I asked you what made a warrior. I rattled off a bunch of things I thought were necessary, like strength, courage, and martial prowess, and you stopped me. You told me the only quality one needed to be a warrior, the most important quality, was the overwhelming urge to help others, without regard to your own safety and circumstances. Here you are, upset not that you can’t remember things, or by the challenges that lie ahead for you, but that you cannot help those in need. I guess even a god can’t take that away from you.”

  Cass smiled weakly down at Manfred. Then she remembered something, which made her happy since she had so very little to remember.

  “You told me about your prophecy those years ago. Why were you hesitant to tell them now?” Cass asked.

  “I was drunk. And you reminded me of my sister, if you recall me saying then,” Manfred said, a wistful undercurrent tingeing his usual ebullience.

  “I do. She was your twin and you loved her dearly.”

  “I… I did. I was only fifteen when the gods stole her from me. Young enough that we still did everything together, shared everything we learned, even our joys and sorrows. Before the age when you part from your family to start one of your own, before you drift away and see each other less and less until you only visit on that rare celebration that brings you all together again. I often wish I had been older when it happened, when we made our deal with the gods. That we had gone our own ways already. Perhaps then it wouldn’t have hurt so much.”

  Manfred snapped his tunic several times, as if doing so might shake not just the dust from his travels, but this painful memory free as well. When he looked back up at Cass, there was only the vaguest hint of sadness hiding behind his eyes.

  “But that was all very, very long ago. I told you our prophecy because I trust you. No amount of spirits could have pried that information from me if that wasn’t also true. These others… they may be your friends now, or have been your friends before, but they are not my friends, nor have they proven themselves to be friends of my people, who already doubt me enough for… past indiscretions. I’ll not give them further cause to doubt me by doling out our secrets with reckless abandon.”

  “I understand. But if everything goes the way your scrolls describe, people really should have time to prepare,” Cass said, recalling Manfred’s description of the battles that were depicted on those ancient scrolls.

  “Teeton birds fly fast. We have time yet.”

  Anya managed to procure an outsized covered wagon and a team of razorbacks faster than Nat or Gunnarr would have believed possible.

  “You’ll need cloaks, but we shouldn’t linger here to shop for them. It’s the wrong of season for them and it could take some time to find any. I’ve stocked the wagon with wool blankets instead,” Anya said as they all clambered into the cart.

  The center of the wooden wagon’s floor was bare except for a pile of blankets so deep it could have been mistaken for a bed. The group filed in and sat down on the wooden benches that lined both sides of the wagon. Lanterns hung at the front and back of the wagon and when Gunnarr had settled at the front of the cart he lit his and a soft glow filled the wagon. Gunnarr looked up to find Cass sitting opposite him. He quickly ducked his head to avoid her gaze, but she didn’t notice. Her eyes were scanning the group looking for someone. She pulled aside the flap of heavy waxed cotton that separated the interior from the fore. There she found Anya, already seated with the razorbacks’ leads in hand, Manfred pulling himself up next to her. Anya frowned.

  “You can sit in the back, you blue demon,” Anya said, adding hopefully, “It will be warmer back there.”

  “Cold doesn’t bother the Djinn,” Manfred grumbled as he crossed his arms. He looked back and winked at Cass. “Besides, it’s already pretty snug back there. Might as well give them as much space as possible.”

  Anya decided not to argue with the little man any further. She turned around and looked into the wagon to see that everyone was in. Nat, the last on board, was pulling up the tail gate behind him. Anya turned back around and snapped the reins gently to let the great wooly beasts know it was time to start moving.

  The wagon creaked loudly in protest as the razorbacks pushed against their dead weight. Gunnarr wondered if it would even move with all the resistant sounds it was making. After a few moments, some snorting noises from the razorbacks and an encouraging whistle from Anya, the great wheels on the wagon suddenly slipped forward, the wagon lurching into action. The jostling motion caused the group to tumble into each other. A mass of apologies and pardons erupted as the group resettled themselves in the bumpy transport.

  “You know,” Nat said, sliding himself out of Viola’s lap, “that pony I rode last time we all traveled together, now I thought that was a bumpy ride. Now I’ve found a new appreciation for that little beastie.”

  Gunnarr and Viola chuckled while Cass smiled politely. Patch just sat quietly, absorbing everything, while Suman lit the lantern at the back of the wagon. He sat back down as the glow of light evened out across the travelers.

  “I didn’t know they had razorback in Arless,” Suman said, trying to start a friendly conversation.

 
“They did not,” Anya called back. “We had them brought here. We needed something to feed the dragons. Razorback are the natural prey of ice dragons so it seemed a good fit.”

  “How can she even hear us over that racket,” Suman exclaimed.

  The wagon began to tilt ever so slightly toward the back, forcing everyone to shuffle their feet to accommodate the new pitch. The trip up the mountainside had already begun. The excitement in the wagon was palpable.

  “Dragons,” Viola said, her whispered tone anxious and thrilled at once.

  “Anyone here ever seen one?” Suman asked.

  The group looked around and no one answered.

  “Well, Cass maybe, be she wouldn’t be able to tell us if she had, I guess,” Nat said.

  He suddenly felt bad for speaking. He wished he had thought through what he was going to say, instead of just blurting it out.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up again.”

  “It’s alright,” Cass said. “Though, I expect if I had seen a dragon, I’d have told you about it before. Seems like the kind of thing one would mention.”

  “Yes,” Viola agreed, “and we had many chances to hear your stories before. Unless you were saving that one back to really impress someone. In fact, we’d be telling stories right now if everything were all cleared up.”

  “We still can,” Suman said cheerfully. “Hey, big fella. Gunnarr, right? You look like you’ve been in a fair few scrapes. I’m sure you’ve an interesting tale or two.”

  Everyone turned to Gunnarr and he blushed at the attention. He silently cursed the dark, chatty man who had put him at the center of attention. Gunnarr had hoped to drift off to sleep unnoticed. He was tired and miserable. Sleeping through the trip would make it quicker. He sighed, resigned, and leaned back into the corner of the wagon, crossing his great arms. He thought about it for a moment. The tale of the kraken would be a good one, but for two problems. Most of the people who knew that story first hand were here with him, so it wouldn’t be new to them, and it would be a reminder to Cass about the trouble they had gone through to find her only to have her not remember them. He figured she would politely ooh and ah at all the right points, but she might feel even more burdened afterwards. Instead he opted for a more lighthearted tale.