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

by M. M. Perry

  Patch did not turn to face the tall woman walking beside him. He was grappling with the fact, begrudgingly, that he had started to respect Suman a little too late, but that did not mean his feelings for humans, had changed. He shrugged noncommittally.

  “I don’t see why. You didn’t do anything wrong. He went into the cave willingly. It not like you shoved him into the deathsglove. And there was nothing you could have done, really. It happened so fast, only the gods could have saved him. And I don’t know why you are apologizing to me in any case. He was no friend of mine, though I may have disliked him a little less than most of you.”

  Cass rubbed her arms for warmth. Anya had been right—she missed her cold weather gear already.

  “No. I mean I’m sorry you aren’t going to find out where the nymphs are now.”

  Patch’s stopped, mid stride. That fact hadn’t even occurred to him yet. He hadn’t thought of much of anything besides Suman since he had fallen into the muck back in the caves. Even now, he couldn’t push the image of him lying there aside and let himself worry about the nymphs. Cass turned to look at Patch, still brooding, unmoving and silent, where he’d stopped. Despite his reticence, the look on Patch’s face told her everything she needed to know.

  “I think you may have been fibbing a bit when you said he was no friend of yours.”

  Patch grunted by way of reply, and started walking again.

  Cass shivered. The temperature, which was already well below frigid, was continuing to drop. Patch took off his heavy cloak and thrust it toward Cass without looking at her.

  When she hesitated to take it, he pressed it into her arms.

  “The chill will affect me far less than you, human.”

  Cass took the cloak gratefully and wrapped it around herself. The musky smell that clung to it reminded her of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  “Thank you.”

  She had been wanting to ask Patch something for quite a while now, but hadn’t been able to bring herself to ask, afraid it would be in bad taste. She decided that she’d take this polite gesture on his part as an opportunity and plunged ahead; she needed to know the answer whether it was in bad taste or not.

  “Will you be taking your leave of us, then?”

  Patch didn’t hesitate to answer.

  “Not at the moment.”

  He wasn’t really certain himself why he had decided to continue on with the group. He marked it down in his mind as being the result of the shock over what Suman had done, nothing more. He also suspected he would need the group’s help to leave the valley, though for once he didn’t feel the need to point out that obvious reason. Instead he decided to say something he felt would make sense to the human, even if he didn’t entirely believe it himself.

  “This is a place I’ve never been. That few people have been. Perhaps I will find my sisters here. And there is the matter of why I am here. I deceived you. And Suman. He exacted no revenge against me when most in his position would have cast me aside, if not killed me. And knowing humans, in some gruesome, lingering way. So there is something like a debt that hangs between us now. A burden increased by what he…I will see this through if only so I don’t have to think of that stupid human anymore. Then my debt to him will be fulfilled. And then I will take my leave of you.”

  Cass didn’t bother to respond. She could have told him that he was the only one that thought he was bound to the group because his betrayal and Suman’s sacrifice, but she knew it wouldn’t matter. Patch was determined and, she could tell, honestly wanted to help her with no machinations of his own guiding his actions, perhaps for the first time since she’d known him. She was glad of his companionship. He had become familiar to her, and familiarity was something she had in very short supply.

  Patch watched her closely, while simultaneously attempting to feign casual disinterest. She seemed to be accepting his ruse. He hoped it would endear him to her enough that she would protect him, should the situation require it. Which, he thought, seemed increasingly likely given that they’d just lost one of their number. He felt a twinge of something unfamiliar inside him as he thought that, an internal rebuke as though part of his own mind were mocking his very thoughts as untrue. Suddenly, he found himself imagining Suman looking at him, a roguish grin and an arched eyebrow all he need supply to indicate he found the satyr’s self-delusion infinitely amusing. Patch bit his lip, hard, on purpose, using the momentary pain to clear his head. He did not want to think about Suman.

  Perhaps, he thought, helping this woman will make it so I no longer have to think on the foolish human who saved my life.

  The Suman of his mind bobbed back into his imagination again just long enough to make a rude gesture before Patch was able to force himself to concentrate on the task at hand and forget about the human for a while.

  The skies were darkening rapidly as the sun dipped behind the mountains, and the air became suddenly, dangerously cold. Anya called a halt to their march at the next suitable camping area—a patch of ground unremarkable from the space around it save that it was perhaps slightly smoother, the rocks merely annoyingly uneven instead of broken and jagged. Manfred undertook a brief protest, but Anya explained to him the risks of continuing on outweighed the risk of stopping for the night. Many predators in the valley were lethal, even to a group as large, well equipped, and seasoned as they were. Moving through the wooded terrain at night was simply too chancy. She assured them that even their pursuers would not be so hasty.

  The group was somber as they set up a rather meager camp. Nat cleared his throat hesitantly, unsure if what he was about to ask was appropriate.

  “Tell us,” he began, looking at Cass, “about Suman. I didn’t really get to know him, but what he did back there may have been the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t think he doubted for a second what he was about to do. He just did it. Sounds a lot like a warrior.”

  “He is brave,” Cass said slowly. “He was the one that thought we should go to the oracles. He wasn’t even sure then that he couldn’t die, he just thought that might be the case. I wasn’t so sure. But in he went without the slightest hint of fear, into the blackest cave I could even imagine. Just strode right in like it was nothing. What I would give to have been a fly on the wall in that cave while he talked to the oracles. I’ll bet,” Cass leaned in towards the fire, conspiratorially, “that he was excessively sassy with them.”

  The pall of silence that had lain on the group was momentarily blown off by their simultaneous laughter.

  “He is a cheeky bastard,” Viola said softly.

  “And a good guy,” Cass said simply, “who I am going to miss.” She looked across the fire at Patch, who met her eyes for a moment before gruffly rearranging himself to go to sleep, his back to the fire and the rest of the group.

  A quiet fell over the campfire again, intensifying the mood that had only momentarily been lightened. Except for Patch, who was either already asleep or at least pretending to be, the rest of the group stared into the fire, no one wanting to be the one to break the silence again, resolutely not looking at each other.

  Gunnarr, not quite tired yet and wishing to ask a question that had been nagging him since they’d met Anya, decided now was the time to change the subject to something less painful for everyone.

  “Anya,” he began, “I noticed you have a much stronger command of common than Driscol, your brother. And Ivan even more so. He said they try to keep your people isolated, do they not even teach them common?”

  Anya nodded, a twinge of frustration passing over her face. “Indeed. We are not taught common. It helps to keep our secret if we are simply unable to tell it because of language barriers. Some of us have tried to pick it up over the years out of curiosity. Driscol was like this. He was never formally taught the language as I was. I had to learn common, since I was chosen to be one of the traders with the outside world. He begged me to teach it to him, but I was a poor instructor, never having much time to spend wit
h him practicing it. Ivan speaks it better than anyone I know. I always assumed it was because he read so many books in common.”

  “I hope your people are able to adapt when all this happens,” Cass said, gesturing around her trying to indicate their whole adventure. “Things are going to change a lot once your secret is out. Some may even be angry with you.”

  “I hope not, but of course, anything is possible,” Anya replied thoughtfully. “As for my people, we are strong. If I am allowed to help them, I will.”

  The group fell silent again. Eventually Manfred rolled over and went to sleep. His quiet snoring filled the void of conversation. Cass took a deep breath, watching a withering ember at the edge of the fire pulse and die out before she too settled back onto the ground. Before long, all but Gunnarr had dozed off. He had decided to remain awake and watchful. Anya had not specifically told them that they needed to keep watch. Gunnarr watched anyway. He stared out into the sparse pine wood around them, looking for torchlight or any sign of pursuers. He spent the rest of the night in silence, alone with his thoughts, save for the owls hooting in the trees.

  Cass woke to the sound of a lone bird greeting the pre-dawn with its muted, lilting song. She rubbed her eyes open and turned over to see Gunnarr, still awake, staring into the distance. She got to her feet and quietly moved to sit closer to him.

  “You stayed up all night?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper. Gunnarr nodded. Cass rummaged through her pack and pulled out some dried fruit. She offered it to him. He waved it aside.

  “You can’t have no sleep and no food,” she insisted.

  Gunnarr took the fruit and nodded. He took a bite, then said around his mouthful, “we should go soon.” He took several large bites from the fruit, leaving little more than a core. He tossed it into the cooling ash that had been their campfire, chewed down and swallowed his mouthful, then continued.

  “It will be dawn within the hour and I heard voices coming from the direction of the caves some time ago. If they are in the valley, they will surely begin their pursuit again soon.”

  “You have good hearing. We travelled for hours before we stopped for the night, yet you can still hear them from that for off? Or perhaps Anya was wrong, and they went ahead and kept following after dark,” Cass was contemplative as she spoke. She noticed Gunnarr was not wearing a cloak, then remembered that he had also tossed his own down in the cave.

  “I don’t know how close they might be,” Gunnarr said, interrupting her thoughts. “Sound travels strangely in caves. Echoes bounce about. They may still be in them. And Anya said there are many small exits, too small for a human to use, but not so small that sound wouldn’t escape them. I think, perhaps, they were re-routed. The deathsglove may have moved too much for them to follow our path exactly. That may have given them an advantage of sorts, being able to travel in the relative safety of the cave. They may have traveled all night to circle round ahead of us somewhere. Or, more likely, they kept going not to catch us, but because they did not want to stop inside for fear of waking up covered in the lichen. Regardless, I suspect they will have a tracker with them. I would. But they will still need to backtrack to the exit we used to pick up our scent, if I am right.”

  “Wouldn’t they just go ahead, and stop us on our way?”

  “Could be. But I don’t know how dragons roost. It they’re at all like many of the large, carnivorous beasts on Tanavia, they’ll be very territorial, and each guard a large range. Anya may be taking us to one dragon in particular,” Gunnarr flexed his hand as he spoke to keep the blood moving in it.

  “You’re cold. Take the cloak. I’ve had it all night. We should at the very least take turns wearing it,” Cass said, anticipating his chivalrous nature would not allow him to simply take the cloak from her, so she offered to share in turns instead, hoping he’d see the sense in it.

  “I’ve been too long from Braldashad. My people would call this a cool summer morning. I’m thinking I’ll take a trip home after this, to visit with my family. Getting used to this light chill will get me back in shape. I wouldn’t want to risk being called soft. If I wore a cloak like that in Braldashad with weather like this, I’d be laughed off the island.”

  Cass smiled at the thought of someone mocking the giant warrior, but her smile fell when she took in the full measure of what he’d said.

  “You’re going back home? For how long?” She felt responsible for Gunnarr’s sudden desire to return home, despite how absurd she knew it was, since she’d failed to be the woman he’d been searching for.

  “You mistake my intentions, I think,” Gunnarr said quietly. He waited until Cass’ grey eyes met his before resuming. “It’s been a while since I’ve witnessed the death of a warrior. It happens all the time, to be sure, but usually you hear about it in a pub or an inn. We don’t often see it happen. That is, until it’s happening to us. It’s made me realize I shouldn’t let any opportunity pass by again. I don’t plan to go back home alone. I want you to come with me. I would like very much for you to meet my parents and my sister. It is traditional in Braldashad that a son must introduce his future bride to his family before he proposes.”

  Cass smiled at him. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, for a guy I just met.”

  “You’d be sure too, if you remembered Chulpe.”

  A puzzled look crossed over Cass’ face. She was about to ask Gunnarr to explain when Anya sat up and grumbled.

  “The birds are singing,” Anya said brusquely. “We must be moving.” She stood, her knees creaking like a tree as she did. Cass saw her wince slightly.

  “Gunnarr says he heard them, your people, but couldn’t pinpoint their location because of the caves,” Cass said helpfully.

  Anya glanced at the mountain ridge they had been travelling along. If she were a dog, her ears would be visibly cocked in that direction. She looked back to Gunnarr and Cass as the rest of the group began stirring.

  “I know all the exits, and I have been steering us clear of any obvious paths to try to keep us hidden. They know I am with you. They will likely think I am headed to one of the ice dragon broods. They would be the easiest for me to approach with strangers as ice dragons are…” Anya hesitated. A smile flitted across her lips for scarcely a second. It was the first time Cass could recall since they’d met her that she seemed pleased about something. It was clear to anyone watching Anya that speaking about the dragons made her happy. “Docile is what we call it, but I do not want to leave you with the wrong impression. They are docile only in comparison to the others. By any other standard, docile would be a ridiculously inappropriate word.”

  “Come,” Anya said gesturing for them all to rise with a quick upwards jerk of one hand. “I would quite enjoy telling you all I know of dragons. I never had the chance to teach the little ones in my village. I have always envied those that did. But we must move while I tell you. Our pursuers are not the only danger here. My people have stocked this place with those creatures still living that populated the lands of the dragons of old. And they do not take kindly to humans. Except for those that are very, very fond of humans. For eating.”

  The group shuffled to their feet and broke camp with more than their usual hustle, as much driven by eagerness to hear about the dragons they would soon see as apprehension of the forest around them. Once they were all packed and bundled up, aside from Gunnarr and Patch, the latter seemingly unaffected by the cold air, Cass rationed out a small breakfast to them all. They each took it gratefully and ate it as Anya led them deeper into the forest.

  “Perhaps we should hear about the animals around us first,” Gunnarr said, ever watchful, “before we talk of dragons.”

  “There are of course razorbacks, though they pose us no threat. We have found their hardy nature and relatively short breeding cycle keeps them abundant enough to keep the dragons and other predators well fed. But there are mountain bears, protean lions, husks and great mammoths. Though I doubt we shall see any mammoths. They stay in the lower
valley. Their migration takes them from one end to the other of the river that runs the length of the valley.”

  “What on earth possessed you to bring mountain bears here?” Patch asked.

  “I think the better question is how did you bring mountain bears here,” Viola said.

  “I did not bring any creature here, of course. That was all done long ago. Why my ancestors decided these things is nearly as much a mystery to me as it is to you. We have been doing this for hundreds of years, maybe longer, but we know little for certain that occurred longer ago than our texts chronicle. We do know that mountain bears are one of the few creatures that prey upon young dragons. The histories suggest that our ancestors did not want the dragons brought up here to be weak. They thought having as natural an environment as possible would keep them strong. That was the thinking anyway. I have no way of telling if these dragons are stronger or weaker than the ones of old, but they all seem powerful enough to me. How the mountain bears were brought here is even murkier, if you can believe that. It is my understanding that at least four were brought here. The records claim they were recently weaned, so they wouldn’t have been full size, though based on my observations even the adolescent ones can weigh as much as fifteen grown men.”

  “Well,” Manfred said grimly, “I suppose there is a bright side. Such beasties do not tolerate each other, so we’ll likely only have to deal with one almost certain death attack at a time.”

  Only Patch laughed. The group had been unusually cool toward Manfred since the cave, believing Manfred could, and should, have done something to save Suman. The Djinn looked around the group, ending despondently on Cass.

  “Tell us of the dragons,” Viola said when it was clear that no one was going to respond to Manfred.

  “Hmm,” Anya said. “Where to start? I’m not certain how much you all may know of dragons. Do you even know that long before the battle of the Plains of the Dead Gods, before the new gods were born, the old gods sought complete dominance over the people of Tanavia? This was before the war of the First Gods,” Anya began.