Whom The Gods Love Read online

  Whom the Gods Love

  Book One in the Of Gods & Mortals Trilogy

  M. M. P E R R Y

  Copyright © 2012 by M.M. Perry.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  M.M. Perry

  209 S. Glover Ave

  Urbana, IL 61802

  Authormmperry.com

  Author’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Layout ©2017 BookDesignTemplates.com

  Whom the Gods Love/ M.M. Perry. – 2nd ed.

  ISBN 978-1370434718

  Whom the gods destroy, they first make mad.

  ―Euripides

  Contents

  Chapter 1 1

  Chapter 2 16

  Chapter 3 36

  Chapter 4 50

  Chapter 5 66

  Chapter 6 78

  Chapter 7 92

  Chapter 8 107

  Chapter 9 123

  Chapter 10 135

  Chapter 11 154

  Chapter 12 164

  Chapter 13 177

  Chapter 14 192

  Chapter 15 213

  Chapter 16 227

  Chapter 17 241

  Chapter 1

  Some stories are dark—they explore deep philosophical issues; right and wrong, good and evil, war and its consequences, slavery, tragic love, death and, darkest of all, betrayal.

  This is not one of those stories.

  “I don’t understand why we’re going to the Plains of the Dead Gods. Getting here alone took us leagues out of our way through this wilderness.”

  The man who spoke slashed ineffectually with his sword at a branch that threatened to knock him from his horse. The branch merely swayed a little with the impact, snagging his sword for a moment. He yanked it free, almost losing his balance as he struggled to keep a grip on the sword, the reins, and duck under the bouncing limb. He glared at the old woman in the cart just ahead of him.

  She was holding a long stick with a string hanging down from it. A carrot dangled from the end of the string a few inches ahead of the donkey that was pulling her cart. He was sure it had been “provisioned,” as the old woman put it, or stolen as anyone else would put it, along with armfuls of other vegetables from the royal garden. He sheathed his sword, giving up on the idea of hacking his way through the brush. Just as he looked back up from his scabbard, another thumb-thick branch affixed itself to his face.

  “The Gods be damned! Old woman, you are trying my patience!”

  The old woman was in the back of a small wagon that was led by a particularly large ass. She turned toward the handsome young man just in time to see his face get smashed by a large oak branch. Several acorns plinked to the ground in a pattern very similar to the old woman’s snicker.

  “Oh, damn,” she said turning her attention back to her cart, “Barnaby’s got another of the carrots. If we keep at this pace I won’t have the fuel to get there.”

  She seemed to be completely ignoring the blustering man behind her.

  “Nat? Nat get up here and help me with this turnip,” as the old woman spoke she fumbled through a crate at her feet filled with various roots. All the vegetables had a length of sturdy twine tied to them.

  “Yes, Auntie Inez” a voice replied from the other side of a large bush.

  A teenaged boy came trotting around it on a short pony. He hopped off and grabbed the end of the stick. Nat took the root Inez was holding out to him and tied the string dangling from it onto the end of the stick.

  The three made a very unlikely trio. The tall handsome man rode a stallion that was obviously from very good stock. His clothing, although neither gaudy nor pretentiously adorned, would actually be immediately noticeable to any decent tailor as being made from cloth of the highest quality. The man’s tailor had been ordered to create this ensemble in a rather poor attempt to hide that he was, in fact, a king. His dark hair fell to just above his shoulders. He was quite handsome about the face, but it had a hard quality to it that made him seem surly much of the time. He had steely blue eyes that were just at that moment staring daggers at Nat.

  The teenage boy was a polar opposite to the stern royal. He had short, light brown curly locks atop a smiling cherubic face set with friendly brown eyes. He was tall and rather reedy. His attire was clearly that of a farm boy whose family made an uncomfortable living. He looked to be just on the verge of becoming a man; muscles beginning to form where once there were none, his jaw just starting to become stronger.

  The old woman was ancient looking. Her clothes were as wrinkled as her skin but her eyes were keen. She was short and stooped, and had an annoying habit of being around the king whenever he needed to empty his bladder.

  “Look, my seer insisted that I was to travel with you. But I'm beginning to doubt his insights. I can't see how you’ll be of any help whatsoever to me.”

  “Fool of a man. Do you need every little thing explained to you? Can you not think for yourself?” the old woman squawked.

  The man glared at her in answer.

  “Fine. I will explain it slowly, with small words. We may be going through the plains. That is up to the warrior we choose. The warrior will be doing the fighting I take it,” the old woman eyed the king doubtfully.

  The king tried his best to glare at the old woman harder.

  “That’s what I thought. Since the warrior will be doing the fighting, the warrior will be picking the route we take. I am merely taking you to the pub which houses the best warriors in all of Tanavia. That you’ve never heard of this place doesn’t surprise me. All kings are fools, choosing to let others do the work of thinking for them so they can deal with more important topics, like embellishing their coat of arms.”

  The young king glared down at the back of the old woman's head and clutched angrily at his reins. If his seer had not told him this woman would be of great importance to his quest, he would have left her the moment he met her in the cave she had called a home. She had greeted him wearing nothing but a wreath of flowers in her oily gray hair.

  As he always did when he felt his temper flare, the king touched the locket hidden beneath his tunic and felt calmed. He knew his quest was too important for him to lose his temper. He took several deep breaths and pushed his anger away. His family had a long history of trusting in the seers of his kingdom. The quiet, lonely seers had often steered his ancestors along the path to greatness, and his own seer had never been wrong before. When the king’s seer had told him the old woman was necessary for his mission, he had accepted the advice without question. But now that he’d spent some time with the old woman, he was beginning to fear that his guide was completely inept.

  The old woman fumbled around in her pack while Nat tried to adjust the pole with the turnip on it so that it hung just out of the donkey’s reach. The king urged his horse past them through the brush to the edge of the tree line and looked out over the plains. The plains stretched to the horizon and were dotted with magnificent stone monuments to the gods. They reached into the sky for hundreds of feet. Birds circled the outstretched hands of Timta, the goddess of ligh
t, far off in the distance. A few of the oldest monuments had been toppled over with time. The huge square boulders that had made up the complex curves of Natan, the serpent god, had scarred the earth with their collapse. Massive ditches were furrowed into the soil around the fairly recent fall. The fields seemed barren of anything but short grass as wind blew through the stone giants populating the field.

  The old woman noticed the king taking in the plains and spoke up, “Not to worry, your highness.”

  There was a barely suppressed snicker beneath her words as Inez spoke. The king jerked his head back toward her, trying to hide his fear at traveling so perilously close to the infamous plains.

  “The fields are safe… for now,” Inez continued, wishing to poke a little more at the pride of the young king, “but let’s not tarry. We’ll want to be in the pub by nightfall,” the old woman finished in a foreboding tone.

  She smiled impishly as the king gave her exactly the reaction she had desired. He audibly swallowed and his eyes darted across the plains, scanning the horizon for any one of the numerous horrors spoken of late at night in the pubs and inns throughout Tanavia. Inez allowed the snicker she was holding back to land in the folds of her hand as she discreetly covered her mouth. Such a pompous man deserved to be brought down a peg or two, she figured. She turned back toward the donkey and adjusted the stick so that the root swayed just within reach of the animal’s eager mouth for a moment. The donkey quickly trotted forward trying desperately to catch a surprisingly agile turnip.

  Inez’s little worm eaten wagon trundled along behind the ass, bumping and jumping about. The king never let his eyes leave the plains as they rode along the edge of the thick wood that stopped so abruptly in the shadows of the stone giants, as if the trees themselves were afraid to get any closer to the gods.

  Nat managed to sidle his pony up to the old woman's cart.

  “Are those what the old gods looked like, Auntie Inez?” he asked in a voice that cracked a little.

  Nat was seventeen and although he had mostly moved past boyhood in a physical sense, there was much about his awe and wonder at the world that was still stuck in childhood. He had spent most of his life coddled too much by his mother, sheltered in his life of apparent relative ease despite the impoverishment of his family. His mother had done everything she could to keep their financial state from influencing Nat’s life.

  The old woman wondered if the trip would make the young man grow up a little bit. He could use it, she thought idly. No girl would want to step out with a lad that was still so boyish. The young ladies his age would all be looking for men. He wasn’t disagreeable, and was nice enough on the eyes, she thought, just naïve about the ways of the world and innocent in ways that young women did not find appealing. Despite her dislike of all people, Inez found herself oddly fond of the boy. It surprised her when she realized it, particularly considering she had been his guardian for such a short time.

  “No, they weren’t as… big as all that,” Inez said looking out at the gods, “They just had a bit of an ego. Wanted people to be in awe and all that nonsense. Course, that didn’t stop them from letting people believe they were actually hundreds of feet tall. Gods are very good at talking themselves up. And people believed the stories they were told. You’d think by now people would know better than to trust gods. Gods lie about everything.”

  The king began to feel uncomfortable and exposed. Talking so ill of the gods so close to their domain was bad luck. He decided to change the topic as he fidgeted nervously with his reins.

  “What are we looking for exactly, in this pub? Is there a particular warrior we must find?” he asked Inez.

  “We will tell them where we need to go. The right warrior will find us. We may even get more than one to come, if we are lucky. Do not mention how much gold you have. The right warrior will not ask much to do this thing you ask, while the unscrupulous will promise anything for that fat purse of coins,” the old woman said scratching at her cheek.

  The young king pulled his cloak more tightly around his shoulders and prodded his horse to move a little faster. A chill came over him as they passed into the shadows of one of the statues. The deep shadows stretched for miles across the plains in the late sun, reaching for the edge of the forest. As the fingers of darkness grasped at the small trio, the king found what little excitement he had first felt about this trip waning and turning to fear.

  “I hope you are right. I cannot fail,” the king said darkly as he gripped his reins tightly. He struggled to fight off the dread he was feeling.

  “I will not fail,” he said, and spurred his horse to take the lead.

  The old woman looked up at him and her expression softened just a little bit. Her skin may have wrinkled, the color of her hair faded and her voice had grown raw over her many years, but her memories were still as young as they’d ever been. She remembered what devotion was easily enough, and she recognized it when she saw it.

  “Your seer told you to find me. If he saw me, then you must need me on your journey,” she said tactfully.

  “I still don’t know why,” the king muttered.

  Inez snorted.

  “Of course you don’t. Doubt me if you must. I don’t care. I wouldn’t expect a fool like you to recognize what I can do. You may not believe it now, but when I was young and beautiful I traveled the world in search of adventure. I visited the bed of many men. If you’re lucky, I might even warm yours, though you’re not exactly worthy of my companionship,” she added in a clipped voice.

  “And just like that, you turned what had started as a civil conversation into another reason for me to dislike you,” the king said.

  “Well then, if that's how you feel. And here I was ready to tell you about some of my more interesting conquests. I once had relations with a king you know. But you won't hear that story anymore, not with your attitude,” the old woman said grumpily.

  “I'm crushed,” the king replied flatly.

  They continued on skirting the edge of the desolate plains in stony silence.

  It was getting quite dark when they saw the lanterns outside the large stone pub peeking out from the woods bordering the Plains of the Dead Gods. They could hear the merry sounds of laughter and song floating through the air toward them. The sound seemed to break the eerie spell of the plains, a buffer of life and safety surrounding the large tavern.

  The king felt his spirits lift at the sounds. He prodded his horse forward and when he reached the pub, found that the stables were well kept. Many fine animals were housed within. He paid a stable boy handsomely to house his own animal and his companion’s beasts as well. The stable boy looked at the donkey pulling the cart with a funny smile on his face.

  A large wooden sign hung over the entrance to the pub. A man holding a rather hefty looking sword was carved in relief on the sign. The words, “Swords Aplenty,” were splashed across it in a jaunty red paint. Opposite the sword-bearer was another relief, this of a woman gazing lustily back at him. It took a moment for the king to realize just how suggestively the man was holding his sword.

  He cleared his throat nervously. He knew there were places like this in his own kingdom, but he generally steered clear of them and the uncouth louts that frequented those establishments.

  The king wandered up to the entrance to the pub and hesitated for a moment, his hand on the door. He looked back at the old woman and Nat, who were waiting expectantly behind him.

  “Well, go in then. They won't bite you. At least I'm pretty sure they won't,” Inez said with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Right,” the king said, and he pushed the door open.

  The pub was massive and chock full of men, and a smattering of women, outfitted largely in various types of armor, although a few wore normal clothing. Almost all, however, had a weapon on them or close at hand. They ranged in age from nearly as young as the king's traveling companion, Nat, to as old as Inez. A handful of serving wenches were wending their way through the crowded room. T
hey seemed to enjoy mingling with the men, flirting and laughing as they stopped at each table. The king was surprised to find the aroma of food and ale that filled the place to be enticing. It seemed the pub served both in quality and quantity, a rare thing to find out in the middle of nowhere.

  The crowd was composed of races from all over. At a glance, he had already noted the presence of some Mummer men from the far southern continent of Arless, and was particularly shocked to find a huge, red fur covered Cartan from the eastern continent of Ledina. There were so many warriors milling about inside the pub, he didn't know where to start.

  “Do you have any suggestions?” he asked the old woman as quietly as he could, while still ensuring she’d hear him over the din of the room.

  “Not especially. Perhaps a big one? Although they’re all pretty big, aren't they? It's been a long while since I've been here. I had forgotten how handsome the men could be,” the old woman said smacking her lips.

  “Look over there, at that blond one. I would be willing to make a special deal with him, you may not even have to spend your gold. Some of these warriors work for trade, if you catch my drift. I wouldn't mind. I'd be doing it for the service of the king.”

  The king grimaced and was about to dismiss her suggestion as frivolous, but when he caught sight of the brute she’d selected, he had to admit that the old woman had picked out a formidable looking warrior. He was easily six feet tall, maybe even a head taller than that. It was difficult to tell exactly, since he was leaning against the wall. A handle of a great sword jutted up beside his head, clearly borne in a back scabbard. He had shaggy blond hair that fell to his shoulders and ice blue eyes. His great arms looked like they could squeeze a bear to death. He was quite possibly the largest man in the room, apart from the Cartan who, strictly speaking, was not a man.