And greatness had made its move.
Diedrika clutched her freshly cut hair and sprung from the boulder. Next, she swooped down to the tall grasses and gathered Judiascar’s shavings as best she could. Mixing his clippings with hers, she gazed in the direction of the sea. As if by her silent command, the wind suddenly gusted north. She then threw these clippings high into the air – immediately the stiff wind captured every strand and carried these strands over the plateau and out of sight. Diedrika then turned to Judiascar. He just looked back at her in wondrous disbelief.
“Is it not marvelous, my future king? How such a brief moment in time and a symbolic, yet trivial thing like our hair can mold the unbreakable blocks from which we will build a lifetime of reciprocated fellowship!”
Diedrika bounded for Judiascar, hugged him tight, and kissed his cheek. He just chuckled. She noticed him drop the clipping shears at the base of the boulder – if she remembered, she would retrieve them later – and together they sauntered to the edge of the plateau overlooking the sea. Judiascar lied down. She knelt close, nestled against his soft warmth, and he wrapped a great curved wing over the nakedness her cut braids no longer hid.
“Princess,” Judiascar asked after a long while, “how will I explain the cutting of my mane? And what explanation will you give concerning your hair?”
Diedrika laughed aloud. “I had not thought about that!” She paused for a few moments before finally answering. “What I will say is this: ‘I endured but a moment of shame to become worthy of a loyal companion’s trust and friendship that will see its end only after we see ours.’”
As the sun set before their pleased eyes, the spirits of both princess and prince faded beyond the horizon with it. There would be no next dawn for these naïve spirits – they were dead and happily so. Diedrika and Judiascar did not die with them, of course, but would be born anew. For upon the next day and every day thereafter, their physical bodies would own the spirit of a queen and king eagerly awaiting their chance to rule.
*****
Three years had passed since those memorable days. Today the last day of summer and her twentieth birthday, Diedrika smiled wide as she took in the sights and smells of the grand procession whose only purpose was to celebrate the next Mermaid queen’s ascension to the throne.
Her turn had come. Her time was now.
Chapter Two
PROCESSION OF NATIONS
The crowning of Prince Judiascar as the next Gryphon king surely noteworthy; the grand celebration at Antediluvium is, first and foremost, for the soon to be christened Mermaid queen. Just as the most chilled reptile craves the early morning sun, the legendary princess’ admirers await her turn at the throne with the same sundrenched anticipation. This historian and other Mermaid authors have written more of her exploits BEFORE her queenship has even begun than any other queen’s ENTIRE reign. The crown grasped – the Rise of Diedrika is at hand.
– Penelope, Mermaid Historian
– End of Summer, Year 4,236 KT[2]
Upon the breaking dawn on this grandest of days, the sun shined brighter than ever before, the winds wisped in a wondrous way none had yet to feel on their faces, and the sky above wrapped the roof of the world in the most brilliant of blues. Penelope had seen only a sliver of all the days that had ever been, of course, but this mattered not. She would scribe what she believed, and every pair of eyes yet to come would believe what Penelope had scribed – such was the power of a historian. And with her charcoal stylus in hand, this is what she wrote next:
The heroes and heroines now coming of age will transform Terra Australis as only one other generation has done before.
“Oh, Hezekiah, have you ever seen such a sight?” Cheers with no beginning and no end buzzed about Penelope’s ears as if swarms of tireless bees.
“Never, Penelope!” the Gryphon historian answered. “Never!”
Now in his forty-sixth year, Hezekiah was still quite spry and handsome. His brown mane owned but a light tinge of silver and not a single grey feather had yet to invade his colorful wings.
“The avenues of the common city,” Hezekiah continued, “have seen many parades and nearly as many splendid scenes, but no spectacle has ever dared such magnificence!”
Penelope could only nod. The festivals and feasting had started earlier. A procession of nations to bask in this faultless setting was about to begin. The crowning of both the new Mermaid queen and new Gryphon king on the same day was a tradition nearly as old as their ancient alliance.
Nearly every citizen of every kind had gathered inside Antediluvium; thousands of them now lined the handsome paved avenue on which the procession of nations prepared to march. Many of these cheering well-wishers tossed out flowers and trinkets to join with the rose petals soaring Gryphons dropped from the sky. The pleasant smell of these still fresh flowers mixed with the wafting aroma of food sold by vendors along the avenue. Whether fiddling about freely or marching with firm looks in formation, these many thousands would wind their way to the one destination large enough to hold them all.
“Mermaids, Gryphons, Centaurs, Arachna Majora; I see not a single Sapien preparing to march with us,” Hezekiah noticed.
“And deservedly not!” Penelope crowed. “Columns of glittering glory, many abreast; only the failed race of mystics moping about in single file could spoil this breathtaking scene. And even if some were bold enough to ride in chariots led by their giant pandas,” she giggled, “few would notice and none would care.”
Hezekiah let out a loud laugh at this.
Not a single Sapien in view, it appeared that not even their pompous queen believed she was entitled to such pampered glory. Barely more than 200 Sapiens left, a race on the edge of extinction tended to inflict a healthy humility. Most of them female and only a handful of males still fertile – for centuries their dominance crumbled under the rising awe of the other four nations. The power Sapiens once wielded near absolute; for many centuries this held true, but selfish hands across the ages had finally succeeded in grinding this dominance into dust.
“Finally, we are getting started!” Hezekiah called out to any in their carriage who could hear him.
Horns blared from every direction and the crowd gave out its largest cheer yet. Flags of purple and gold for Mermaids and of silver and gold for Gryphons unfurled themselves as if a gustier wind than Penelope felt on her face flowed through them.
Those in the procession stood in place around a great circular avenue just north of the exact middle of the shared city. Five massive marble fountains and five obelisks of dark green granite dominated the gardens that this great avenue wound around. Six wide avenues branched off from this center one – five connected to each of the five prefectures. The sixth they would march on led due south. Although thousands would march, the curve of this avenue allowed Penelope to see a good many of them.
“Every avenue gleams as if overlaid with polished copper!” Penelope exclaimed. “Every piece of bronze armor cannot help but shine! Every strand of hair atop every head appears as if threads of gold – is it possible, Hezekiah? Is it possible that everything the sun touches today cannot help but shimmer?”
Desperate for a better look, the rising sun now peeked over the buildings that had blocked it; as if these beaming rays were torches, they lit up those in the procession and every structure in Penelope’s view.
“If my eyes did not tell me it was so,” Hezekiah answered, “I never would have believed it. Any other day, Arachna armor would swallow the light as if the dark – but today, not a chance!”
Penelope wrapped her right arm around Hezekiah’s left front limb and again pointed her giddy gaze to the front of the parade.
Many columns of armed and armored Arachna Majora led the procession. The two oversized eyes of each reflected everything of color in their path to give cold, blackened eyes a hint of warmth. Aligned phalanxes – dressed in a never polished, dullest of black armor – marched in cadence to rhythmic, pounding drums, and
the species Sapiens could blame most for their ruinous decline happily flaunted their might for all to see.
“Now the Centaurs!” Penelope rose onto the base of her tail, spread out her flukes for balance, and dug every nail of her left hand into the side rails of their carriage. “We are next, Hezekiah! We are next!”
Behind the Arachna pranced hundreds of Centaurs. Up first were the Nubian cavalry. Armor polished to a blinding shine worked to hold down their flowing caparisons of blue and white. Behind the Nubians marched scores of legions; an equal number of Aeropid phalanx and Huaxia swordsmen made up each legion. Huaxia armor was as black as Arachna armor, but owned a lacquered shine. The Aeropids let the air tarnish their armor in such a way as to give it a seafoam green color. Both wore armor in the same way, but of what they wore underneath, the Huaxia appeared a good deal more striking. Drab grey and dark green just could not hold a candle to bright red trimmed with gold. At the rear marched the famed Olmec archers. Armor as brilliant as that of the Nubians covered festive yellows, oranges, browns, and greens. Each archer wielded a unique bow of rare stiffness and great range only a handful of Olmecs knew the riddle to.
“Here we go!” Hezekiah declared. Every Mermaid and Gryphon inside their carriage rose up and cheered. Well, almost every Mermaid – to the rear sat a trio of grumpy royals. As she continued to scribe way on her thin bamboo strips, Penelope realized she now had to keep one eye on them and the other on the procession.
Mermaids and Gryphons marched together as one. Over 1,500 Gryphons and at least 3,000 Mermaids made up this gleaming group. The sweet sounds of trumpets, flutes, and harps played by Mermaids – male and female alike – laid down a carpet of joyful song before them. A lucky few rode inside chariots led by Gryphons. A must when not flying, silk rope ties held in folded wings that could span more than three pike lengths to each side when outstretched. The other Mermaids in this procession either rode atop Gryphons or in chariots led by horses.
Both wore brilliant bronze armor that shone as if gold. Unlike Mermaids, Gryphons carried shimmering shields and armaments. Aside for phalanx and their pikes and archers with their compound bows, Mermaids, of course, had no need to carry either weapons or shields. Sapien guilt over the long ago cursed creation of the first Mermaid, Thessalonika, and the forced birth of their nation had made sure of this. Those riding Gryphons sat with their tails curved under their bottoms; a special inverted saddle kept them cradled in place. Compared to prancing Centaurs, Gryphons moved in a more cautious manner. Much like stalking prey. That Gryphons could be both majestic and savage simply lent credence to their brilliance.
Every Mermaid wore a polished helmet to match his or her armor. Different families showed off their own designs, but only the highest-ranking wore those with a carved Orca head protruding from the crown.
“Arachna with their phalanx and Centaurs with their bejeweled caparisons gave it a good effort, but I think we outshined them both!”
“That we did, Penelope, that we did,” Hezekiah agreed. “And it wasn’t even close!”
Finally heading south with the rest of the procession, a small golden carriage led the much larger one Penelope and Hezekiah rode in. The thin sheets of gold that overlaid the wooden bodies of these carriages made them appear as if made from nothing but while sparkling gems put the finishing touches on their brilliant appearance. Led by four glacier white horses, the small coach carried Princess Diedrika and Prince Judiascar. She kindly waved to streams of well-wishers along the crowded avenue with her left hand. With the other, she held a most grand gift from the Sapien queen. Too majestic to wave, Judiascar simply nodded his regal head to signal his acceptance of the cheering crowd’s good will.
Now close to the stadium, the larger carriage slowed while the smaller one kept the same quick pace and it was soon out of Penelope’s view. The new regents needed to take their place high above all before the parading Mermaids and Gryphons entered the stadium. Requiring ten wheels, eight horses pulled this larger carriage spacious enough to hold a dozen Gryphons and even more Mermaids with ease. Rich, plum colored fabric lining the coach sat ready to pamper every royal bottom.
Penelope again peeked to the rear of the carriage. If three Mermaids ever appeared more miserable, she had never seen it. Unlike near everyone else, they were neither smiling nor waving. Instead, each sat motionless, wore a stern face, and engaged in spirited conversation.
“It’s not too late, Andromeda!” Cassiopeia pleaded. “Until the crown is placed firmly on Diedrika’s head, you can still undue this foolish coronation. Withdraw this succession – there is still time. Do so and spare the West the wrath of her ambition.”
“Really, Mother – really?” Andromeda shot back in disbelief. With just a few more full turns of the clepsydra, she would be a former queen. “On this glorious day, your granddaughter has ascended the mountain of life and its summit is in sight. Now ready to plant the flag of her queenship atop its peak – and yet still? For years, you have protested my judgment and the will of our people. How Diedrika still adores you despite such mindless babbling I will never know.”
Penelope stealthily removed more bamboo strips from a pack that never left her side. Her stylus already in hand, she scribed more furiously than ever.
Cassiopeia clutched the deep purple linen wrapped around the upper half of her tail with a deathly grip an Orca would envy. Light blue hands that now turned nearly the same purple color as her stola said as much. Her pretty, pink palla fell from her head.
A few hairs now out of place – the horror if Cassiopeia could have seen this! Luckily, she did not have a mirror on hand to do so.
Stubborn as ever, Cassiopeia argued on, “Too much Sapien and not enough Pisces blood courses through her veins. You know this, Andromeda! Diedrika’s abilities border on the supernatural. A dominating will with no limits – this just might be the undoing of us all. That, my dear daughter, is too dangerous a combination for any regent to possess. She is reckless and hungers for power as if always famished. I love her dearly and adore her as well, but will not allow this to keep hidden the fears my eyes tell my mind.”
As if fire met frost, Andromeda icily returned Cassiopeia’s burning stare. Mother and daughter were much the opposite. As the years passed and Diedrika’s legend swelled, Cassiopeia grew more cautious. Her gripes as constant and predictable as the rising and setting sun, outwardly and without fail, Andromeda paid little attention to them, but confided in Penelope more than once that she had her own fears as well – more selfish, more personal.
“Ability beyond measure and a healthy ambition – these are your complaints? That Diedrika will be so selfish; will indulge in her own glory at the expense of the glory of us all – in just what way do these traits foretell of such times? If anything, I would argue the opposite. Poseidon gave our Queen Diedrika such amazing gifts because she will seek the glory of all. Diedrika wields her abilities in any manner she sees fit and has always done so in ways that have benefited every Mermaid. So, I will ask you once more, Mother: What argument can possibly be made to suggest she cannot do the same when it comes to this ‘dangerous combination’ you tremble in such fear of?”
Penelope had heard Andromeda ask this of Cassiopeia many times before. Despite years of hearing the same question, she had never offered up a decent answer. Admonished lips moved but nothing came out. Not waiting for Cassiopeia to say another word, Andromeda’s voice turned as sharp as a newly forged blade.
“Silence, Mother! As the sun has yet to set, I am still your queen and master. Continue this insolence and my mercy will find its end; with a spot of cheer in my commanding voice, I will order guards to toss you into the dirtiest, darkest dungeon our prison masters can muster.” Andromeda let out a sinister laugh. “You know of where I speak.”
Penelope watched as Andromeda rose and pulled her silver palla over her head. She then peered in close to Cassiopeia. Both eyes danced with the forceful power endowed to every Mermaid queen, but which she rarely used
. Her palms almost touching, a faint blue glow and hum emitted from each. Upon separating, with a sound as if a blade slowly scraping stone, Andromeda bronze-made a set of gleaming chains. Cassiopeia’s face turned as white as snow upon seeing them. An end held in each hand, Andromeda shook these chains menacingly. She then spoke in a dark voice only a select few knew her capable of.
“Yes, indeed, you will be a regent once again: the ‘Queen of the Damned’! The pleasing blue hue of your skin, emerald green eyes that sparkle without end, and flowing red mane every Mermaid is gifted with now set atop your pretty head – each will grow a depressing grey. Your colorless gloom will tell all who look upon you of your confined hardships … and disrespect toward your queen. Always hungry, always alone – I will make it so, wretch! Vanity as your mistress, she will make the fittest of cellmates. Together, side-by-side, you can share heartfelt stories that led to such imprisoned demise. And together, side-by-side, your vanity can rot away in shame with the rest of you!”
Her icy stare still gripping Cassiopeia, Andromeda dropped the chains to the floor of the carriage; with a punishing thud, they startled all aboard. Next, she angrily sat back down across from her stunned mother. Silent to this point, Perseos wore the same shocked look of the others staring back at them.
Cassiopeia stared warily as the bronze-made bindings turned into dust. Hands crossed over her chest, a look of horror swept over her still youthful face. She gasped repeatedly. Finally, Cassiopeia peeked up.
“You – would – not – dare!”
For many moments, Cassiopeia’s terror-stricken eyes cowered in the shadow cast by Andromeda’s unfeeling glare.
Obviously delighted by both her performance and the reaction received from it, Andromeda’s smug look morphed into a perfect mix of seriousness and laughter.
“I could never do such a thing,” she blurted as she sprung up and pointed to her right, “but as our lead general, Perseos would!”
The Gift From Poseidon: When Gods Walked Among Us (Volume 2) Page 4