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

by M. M. Perry

  “Not as much as I do,” Patch replied.

  Patch took a few quick strides away from the group, testing his legs and working up his courage. Cass didn’t have time to voice her protest before he turned to the west and bolted into the trees. A moment later, a mournful bleating sounded from the direction he had disappeared. Something huge bounded through the trees after Patch. All Cass could make out in the shadows was a flash of softly dappled brown and grey, the giant cat’s coat, before it was out of sight again.

  “We need to move, now,” Anya tersely whispered, “in case it changes its mind and circles back.”

  They sped off in nearly the opposite direction Patch had taken. Less than a minute had passed when a buzzing sound filled the air, as if a thousand, thousand cicadas had all begun chirping at once. Then a terrible scream erupted from the forest behind them. It was an animal cry of such anguish that Cass’ hand rose involuntarily to her mouth. As they kept running, the insect noise died down. When they could sprint no longer, they slowed to a jog, catching their breath.

  “How many proteans live in these forests,” Gunnarr asked, risking a glance behind.

  “More than we can count. The hunting here is plentiful. They are highly territorial though, and they tend to have large ranges. I doubt we will run into another before we get to the dragons,” Anya said.

  “Do you think that scream was…” Viola couldn’t finish. The thought was too grim to voice.

  “I do not know,” Anya said. “It could have been the protean. I have never heard one scream before.”

  “Have you ever heard a satyr scream?” Manfred asked.

  “No,” Anya admitted.

  Night had fallen hours before, and Patch had not yet rejoined the group. Cass was feeling an overwhelming sense of loss—first Suman, then Patch. That left only Manfred of those she could count among the companions she really knew, and so far she had not been able to get past his refusal to help Suman. She felt nearly as alone just then as when she had awoken on the mountainside. Now, though, it was worse. Then she had just felt alone and frightened. Now she felt alone, frightened, and like she had just lost her best and only friends in the world. She kept her eyes glued to the forest, hoping to see the satyr any moment, expecting him to explain how he had just gotten lost, or had been forced to take a longer way to reach them.

  She started as she felt a hand settle on her shoulder. She turned to find Manfred standing beside her.

  “I am truly sorry. I know you must feel terrible. I can only say this to you and hope it brings you some comfort. I would have done everything in my power to save that boy if it were simply a matter of my life on the line. I’ve no particular love for this life. But I can’t throw away my people’s best hope at freedom. I have been clear about my reasons for being here from the start, but I want you to know that even if this quest was only about getting back your memories, I’d still be here. For you.”

  Cass turned back to the woods. She knew, deep down, that it was increasingly unlikely Patch would rejoin them—that too much time had already passed—but she wasn’t ready to consciously accept that yet. She looked back at Manfred and tried to give him a genuine smile. She wanted to forgive him, as she knew a better person would, but her smile faltered as she spoke.

  “I understand. Let’s just get some rest.”

  Cass transitioned from fretful sleep to abrupt consciousness and knew at once what had awoken her—the smell of something rancid. The sky above her was just beginning to lighten. She rolled up onto her elbow and saw Patch sitting across from her. He had something tied around one of his legs. Once Cass forced herself to focus on it, she saw that it was a large brown insect, long spindly legs wrapped tightly around Patch’s thigh, a terrifying looking proboscis shoved into his lower leg just above his foot. Patch looked pale and tired. He smiled at Cass.

  “A young one. Don’t worry, it’s dead now. When I was still running away, I managed to snap the little bugger’s neck. I was just too busy escaping to stop and pry it loose. Stupid of it to hang on and get carried away from the group. One husk by itself isn’t very dangerous. In fact, it’s basically prey itself, when it’s alone. They only have strength because they have numbers. I brought it back because I thought the lass would want a look, since she seems to be single handedly trying to inventory all the creatures on Tanavia.”

  At the sound of his voice the group began stirring. Cass got up and, after an awkward moment positioning herself on the far side of the bug, she hugged him. It was a hesitant hug, since she hadn’t been particularly close to the satyr—a hug of relief more than of affection. Nonetheless, Patch was taken aback by the gesture. He was unused to any kind of fondness being directed his way, particularly from a human. He felt uncomfortable and wondered, again, why he had even rejoined them at this point.

  The bite this thing gave me left me far too weak to escape the valley on foot, he had told himself before following after the group. That’s why. That, and nothing more.

  Now as he was pulling back uncomfortably from Cass, he was shocked to find himself wondering if that may not have been the only reason.

  “I’m glad you’re alive,” Cass said.

  “As am I,” Patch replied honestly.

  The group took turns expressing surprise and relief. Even Anya, who had little reason to grieve the loss of the satyr, was pleased to see him alive. Viola thanked him for bringing a husk back with him. She held her nose as she inspected the creature thoroughly. She produced some instruments from pockets secreted away inside her tunic, a holdover from her days as an enchanter, and delicately removed the insect’s needle-like mouth from Patch’s leg.

  “So this thing attacked you?” she said while carefully unwrapping its legs from his thigh.

  “Yes. The whole group was bearing down on me, in fact. I could hear them, as I’m sure you could as well. Pretty terrifying sound when you know what it means. There were at least thirty in that hive. A big one. In fact the cones up in the trees were too numerous to be well hidden. I could spot them easily. Most hives are better at hiding their cones, seeing as how their young are in them.”

  “What does a cone look like? They’ve pretty much wiped out all the husks anywhere near human settlements. I don’t know of anyone who’s had a chance to examine one up close like this,” Viola said with lights in her eyes, “well, not and live to tell about it.”

  “Your friend,” Patch said, his face drawn back in disgust as he turned to face Cass so he wouldn’t have to watch as Viola began to dissect the dead insect, “is rather morbid. You attract odd characters, don’t you?”

  “Well, if you go by you and Suman, then yes, I do seem to. These people, I can’t vouch for them. I barely know them,” Cass said.

  Viola looked up at Cass to see she was clearly joking. Viola grinned at her.

  “You don’t remember me, yet, but if you did you’d be surprised by this,” she gestured with her chin at her hands, now rummaging around inside the insects abdomen, pulling out large, slimy organs and dropping them onto the ground. “When we last parted, I was a fading enchanter. I wasn’t much good for anything else. They don’t bother to teach enchanters anything in the village of light. They’re expected to just switch gears from popping out spells to popping out daughters and that’s that. I’ve been working very hard at making myself useful since then. I’ve found studying the lore of Tanavia and its creatures to be very rewarding. And extremely useful,” Viola looked over at Nat and Gunnarr who smiled back at her. “These two lugs aren’t the only warriors who come to me for information now. I’ve got a pretty roaring information trade going aiding warriors now.”

  “I don’t need to get my memories back to be impressed,” Cass said.

  For a moment, they were happy. It seemed that luck had finally dealt them a good hand and with Patch’s unexpected return, for once they had cheated death and misfortune. It was a brief respite, they knew, so they drew it out, Gunnarr and Nat regaling the groups with stories that all revolve
d around the common theme of how they would have died if not for some crucial nugget of information Viola had imparted unto them before they’d set out. They all knew that very soon they were starting down a path of no return, quite literally, and none of them seemed eager to begin this last leg of their journey. Cass glanced up the rocky passageway. The smell of what she thought had to be the dragons was quite strong. She imagined the wind must have changed because she hadn’t noticed the scent the night before. It was an earthy scent, but with a sharp, bitter undertone. It stung the inside of her nose as she took a long, full sniff.

  “I’m grateful to every one of you,” she said, finally, knowing that if she didn’t prod them to action they might linger here all day. “It’s been a long road you’ve all traveled, just for me. I’m honored and humbled by what you’ve all done. I just want to say thank you, now, in case I don’t get the chance again,” Cass said.

  “Ahh, shut up,” Nat said cheerfully. “I have a good feeling about this. I know that, not only will you get the chance to thank me again, and again, and again, and again… You’ll do so every time over the most massive warrior’s dinner the world has ever seen. I expect tables to break under the mountains of your largess, taverns to run dry, and wenches to swoon into my lap at each of your retellings. Just remember that I’m the hero of all these tales, right?”

  Gunnarr burst out laughing. It was a throaty sound, rich and full of mirth, and it flowed out of him, unchecked, each round of laughter louder and more deeply felt than the last. There was no way most of the group could know it but that river of laughter, once it had burst the dam of his sorrow, swept away all the pent up feelings of sadness and loss that had been piling up during the long years of his search for Cass. Nat turned to him shocked; it had been a long time since the Braldashadian had laughed that way. Gunnarr wiped tears from the corner of his eyes and he patted Nat on the back heavily enough that the day’s dust puffed out around his hand.

  “All right, it’s settled then. Just one last thing to do. Let’s go find us a dragon,” he said.

  “How far are we from the dragons,” Patch asked.

  “Ten minutes or so. Essentially right behind us,” she gestured into the cave behind them. “That is why there are so many boulders strewn around here. They scratched out a nest from inside the mountains, and the rubble from that fell here. This is the star dragon nest. Normally there would be anywhere from seven to twenty dragons in a flight, and their nest would cover a lot more space, but this one is smaller because there are only three star dragons. Are you okay to travel?” Anya pointed at the gaping, but bloodless, wound on Patch’s leg.

  “No. It took me a great deal of time to make it here. I need to rest. But I’d like to see the dragons, if it’s not too dangerous. I think I can manage another ten minutes of foot travel with some help,” Patch said.

  “It honestly will not be any less dangerous here than in there once the dragons see us. They will either kill us all right off then search around their nest to make sure there are not more of us, or they will not. It depends on their mood and if I can convince them that I am not dangerous.” Anya corrected herself, “That we are not dangerous.”

  “So I might as well get a look at them,” Patch said, “as it might be the last thing I see, one way or the other. Better to get it out of the way right off then, and not have to cower in fear after I hear you all being gobbled up, squashed flat, torn to shreds, chomped in half…”

  “Okay, gruesome death by dragon I think would have covered all the scenarios quite well,” Cass interrupted.

  Nat helped Patch up.

  “Well everyone knows that mutton is just delicious. Dragons have got to know it too. Maybe we can just give you to them first, you know, as a peace offering, getting to know you present,” he smiled as he pulled the satyr to his feet.

  Anya led them through the narrow passageway of rock. Round stones littered the ground everywhere they walked, many the size of a human head. The stones made the walk fairly treacherous as the group struggled to stay upright.

  “Are these dragon eggs?” Viola asked.

  “They are. They appear here, now, near the dragons. My people have not had to go out hunting eggs since the early days when Gron was helping us. We are not sure if they lay them or not, because clearly all the dragons were gone before but the eggs still appeared. And they appear or are lain or however they come about whether or not we can help hatch them. We have always assumed the star dragons must be able to place them in a star without our help, but they never have. So maybe they cannot. We really know very little about them. It just seems like my people know a great deal because everyone else knows almost nothing.”

  After a short walk the walls of stone parted and opened up into a hollow in the mountainside. It was huge, the walls of stone etched heavily with claw marks. Though shaped like a caldera, it appeared to Viola that the hollow was not natural: the sides were all marked with scratching left by gigantic claws. In the center of the hollow was what at first looked like a single huge mass of black, shining gemstone—until it moved as the dragons shifted. The beasts before them were blacker than the darkest onyx, yet as they moved and the light from the sun glinted off their scales, they shimmered with rainbow sparkles of color that rippled like a wash of water cascading across their bulk. It was as if someone had shaken tiny metallic flecks all over the dragon’s body. They looked like the very night sky they were born from.

  Patch moved against a wall and sat carefully, trying not to disturb any stones or dragon’s eggs in the process. He could walk no further, the bite from the husk was throbbing with pain that started deep inside his shin and pulsed all the way up into his groin. Anya held her hand up indicating the group should stop. The dragons appeared to be asleep.

  “Prosnis'! Ya droog!” Anya shouted.

  One of the dragons lifted its head in what seemed, because of sheer scale and distance, a slow, graceful unfurling of its long, thick neck. It turned toward the group almost lazily, opening its eyes. Huge red orbs stared down at the group, the black irises adjusting to the light. It snorted, inhaling the scent of them. The creature was so large it could have easily scooped the entire party into its jaws, without much effort. When its eyes finally focused on them, the temperature around the group suddenly changed. The air grew warmer. Viola could feel a charge of electricity building around her. Everyone’s hair began rising from the static buildup. The scales around the dragon’s neck began to undulate. The other two dragons were waking as well, taking the same slow movements as the first. Anya took a step back.

  “I was glad to have met you, Cassandra. My brother has always called you daughter, so I hope you will not mind if I now call you niece. It is good to have family by your side when you die,” Anya said, gripping Cass’ hand.

  “I take it their mood is… less than agreeable,” Gunnarr asked.

  “Aren’t you their friend?” Viola said, an edge of hysteria in her voice.

  “We avoid contact with them whenever possible for a reason. We do not want them to become comfortable around people,” Anya said. She looked apologetic.

  Cass prepared herself to be blasted away, expecting a mighty discharge of fiery breath to be the last thing she felt, as was the norm in the dragon tales she’d heard. Then she felt a tug on her free arm.

  “Give me the sun gem,” Manfred shouted up at her.

  The air around them had grown so thick with the charge it had begun to throb with sound, and that sound was nearly deafening. Cass felt around in her pocket and produced the amber colored gem. She handed it down to the Djinn who took it gratefully.

  “Now,” he shouted up at her smiling, “you will see some real magic!”

  All three dragons were now charging up what everyone in the group surmised was something most unpleasant. There was no way they’d be able to run back down the narrow chasm and escape these great beasts, once roused. The dragons had begun to get up on their feet, and the largest of them was taller than the largest cast
le Gunnarr had ever seen, even if you had stacked three or four of them atop each other. He expected the blast of power would be strong enough to destroy anything in the chasm, and likely a good deal of the grounds surrounding the exit.

  Manfred was running, all out, toward the middle dragon, the closest to the group. Cass thought she noticed a slight twitch in attention in the eyes of the dragons from their group, motionless, to the tiny blue speck of a Djinn closing on them. On closer inspection, she became fairly certain they were watching him.

  Blue lightning circled around Manfred and he began to rise off the ground. He continued to float into the air until he was level with the dragon’s faces. He flew towards them at an incredible speed, and then stopped abruptly, hovering within easy reach of their huge maws. They were now most definitely watching him. Manfred raised his hand and the amber jewel caught the morning sun’s rays and gleamed with a blinding light. The dragons stopped stockpiling whatever energy they had been building, mesmerized for the time being by the gem that gleamed with the power of the sun, their birthplace.

  “Hear me!” Manfred said, but it wasn’t his regular voice. It was his voice times a thousand. The mountains trembled at the sound of it, knocking small stones off the walls around them, setting them skittering and clattering to the bottom of the hollow.

  “Understand me!” Manfred said again, this time his voice shook the ground so hard Cass stumbled into Gunnarr.