Perseos offered up a sly smile and nodded slightly.
Not a bad effort, but Cassiopeia easily called his bluff. Her eyes softened and she cocked her head to one side. Next, as would a mother snobbishly suggesting to her youngling that a desired course of action was simply too difficult, she patted his hand with one of hers.
“Come now, my dear daughter, your dashing husband is much too wise to wedge himself between two bickering queens he fancies more than any others. For what purpose would he do this? Of chatter in regards to sovereign power, he has little background and even less interest.” After a peek at Andromeda who had regained her normal cheery look, she continued. “As the only male kin I will still acknowledge, I must not allow Perseos to be corrupted by the bewitching temptress who tricked him into marrying her.”
Somehow, someway, Penelope held in a laugh begging to prance about the carriage as she took in Andromeda’s disbelieving eyes gawking back at the one true bewitching temptress among them.
“For at least one more day, Poseidon still finds me worthy enough to hear the world around me – I am right here, Mother!”
The trio laughed for the first time since Penelope had started watching – she now moved to join them. Hezekiah busily talking with others, he would not even notice she had left his side. Penelope wished to make it appear she had only heard the giddy end of the conversation, but she had heard it all of course. Wondrous, observant, unyieldingly nosy; these qualities were what made a fine historian and she owned them all.
“Forgive my intrusion of such a festive affair,” Penelope apologized in her cheeriest voice. “As my tail simply would not obey my mind, it thrust me amongst my endearing queens!”
“Sit next to me, sweet Penelope!” Cassiopeia begged.
Penelope hurriedly did so. Welcoming hugs came next. When around those who possessed power – no matter the kind – she always tried to be in high spirits and show off her quick wit. To be a charming creature everyone enjoyed the company of was to discover what few others could. She learned this early on from the one who campaigned most to assign her the coveted role of historian six short years ago: Cassiopeia. Many suggested Penelope was too young, but Cassiopeia would hear none of it and convinced Andromeda to make it so.
Cassiopeia’s seemingly casual comment to Perseos, ‘… the only male kin left I will still acknowledge …’, now bounced about Penelope’s head ––
Cassiopeia had disowned her own grandsons!
Truth be told, few would blame her. Devious, scandalous, lovers of shadowy deeds and haters of honest folk, these words best described Diedrika’s younger brothers. Only by their birthright and Perseos’ love for his sons were they not in chains. Betrugen and Verrator their given names – most others would certainly choose different ones.
“Remind me of my petulant sons again, Mother, and I will throw you in the dungeons,” Andromeda said dryly as she shook her head. She too had obviously caught the meaning of Cassiopeia’s quip. “So aloof, always speaking in whispers; they seem only to want to be amongst each other.” Her tone turned reflective, but also sad. “So different from Diedrika – perhaps she took every bit of honor and common sense from my womb and left them none.” Andromeda threw up her hands. “Perhaps we should be thankful they are nowhere to be seen.”
“Their likely role in our military,” Cassiopeia broke in as if to finish this train of thought, “reveals to us the true genius that is Perseos. Once commissioned, he will give them enough duties so they feel valued, yet not so much where they can do any real harm.” Perseos thanked Cassiopeia. “I have long thought this, though never admitted as such: I am so proud of you, Andromeda. A more dignified husband simply does not exist inside our borders.”
These kind words spoken, the carriage rolled into the roaring stadium. Seeing this, the three females rose up and cheered teasingly in unison, “PERSEOS! PERSEOS! PERSEOS!” Most likely having no idea why, Hezekiah and the other nobles in the carriage playfully did the same one final time: “TO PERSEOS!”
*****
The first-born daughter of a Mermaid queen assumed the throne on her twentieth birthday. Not set in stone and in no way guaranteed; all the same, for the last two centuries this had held true. Every crowning was a major event, of course, but until today, the allies of the West had always held this festival at the Mermaid capital of Atagartis.
Diedrika unlike any regent to come before her, why should anything others celebrated in her honor be any different?
No other venue in all the land stood grander than the stadium and amphitheater at Antediluvium. Even so, for the next Mermaid queen, it was barely grand enough. The huge arena all now filed into owned a capacity of close to 30,000. It took the shape of an oval with the shorter ends of the arena mostly open; seating was on each side of the long ends and faced each other.
Every summer and amidst a grand festival that spanned weeks, the historians of the five nations gathered in the shared city for their historical conference. Discuss notable events each historian recorded in his or her home city, settle differing accounts, agree which were most worthy of scribing onto copper plates for each kind’s codex, then actually doing so – this all took a good bit of time.
And was SO dreadfully boring!
Diedrika’s birthday just six weeks after the scheduled conference – the history of all could wait for the history of one. With nary a protest, the leaders of all five nations agreed to do both together.
Penelope turned to the south and looked up into the center of the highest part of the stadium. Sure enough, there she was! From high above, and in full view of every nation she so easily awed. From high above, as if she ruled not just Mermaids but every kind, Queen Diedrika gazed down upon them all.
Chapter Three
FRIENDLY ENEMIES, DANGEROUS FRIENDS
Some follow a leader because of fear, others believe in a leader’s ability to lead, and the rest resist in whichever way they see fit. These the ways of the past – the rules have changed. Resistance is futile. Fear and belief are simply one and the same. Diedrika does not simply project power; she can ensnare it, mold it about your being, and smother you in it until you beg for mercy. As for her ability to grant such mercy, this is in no way EVER guaranteed. Her greatness acknowledged years before touching the crown … why should it be?
– Penelope, Mermaid Historian
– End of Summer, Year 4,236 KT[3]
Penelope riding atop Hezekiah, he stepped off the grassy pitch and made his way up the stone stairs of the arena.
“Even the Pillars of Fire wish to celebrate this glorious day!” Penelope declared once they were close to the rim of the arena.
For weeks on end, the volcanoes that lined the southern border of Antediluvium spewed smoke from their vents. Trickles of molten lava overflowed their fiery craters and made every effort to rush down these slopes, but the bubbling streams of flame cooled before making it even halfway. Luckily, this lava and the small tremors that came with it had caused more delight than real damage.
Penelope at her final destination, she lifted herself out of Hezekiah’s specially made saddle and he hastily departed. Perseos and Andromeda soon joined her and the trio took their places behind Queen Diedrika and King Judiascar.
Cassiopeia, of course, just had to find a Gryphon willing to fly her up. It would have been much too exhausting to watch one she rode atop climb so many stairs. After a tricky landing, she joined them. Cassiopeia’s obvious failure forgotten – Diedrika would still be queen, just as she should be – Penelope watched her look down upon the masses below with her typically vain expression.
The seat to Cassiopeia’s left was vacant, but for good reason. The outgoing Gryphon king and Judiascar’s father, Simonacles, simply could not resist. The ancient game of Harpastum played only during the summer festival every other year – as long as he could walk, he would play. In the underground bowels of the arena below the field, Simonacles and a group of Terra Australis’ bravest – and many would sugg
est craziest – prepared for the upcoming game. With a wink to Cassiopeia, Penelope cleverly secured this choice spot.
“And here comes the receiving line,” Penelope whispered to Andromeda. The Centaur Chiron and his council, the Alpha Centauri, were the first to greet the new rulers.
“Crowns well-deserved,” the elderly Nubian Centaur said kindly, “my hopes for a long and fruitful reign, Great Queen … Great King.”
Unlike the rulers of the other four nations, the Chiron was not a monarch, but an elected leader. And although not a king, on grand occasions – none more than this one, of course – it was his duty to wear a makeshift crown (a rather poor looking one) as if he were. The three blind counselors that made up the Alpha Centauri followed and they too congratulated the new rulers of the West.
Komnena, the Sapien historian, having just done so; in her flowing black robes with gold trim and burgundy hooded cloak – who better than the Sapien queen to come next?
“Your mistress no more, we are now peers.” Queen Marseea’s sly smile met Diedrika’s commanding one. “And at no time in my 231 years have I been more pleased. A decade ago the gangliest of Mermaids, you have become more than I could have ever hoped. On behalf of every Sapien, my dearest wishes, Queen Diedrika.”
Smoky grey eyes inspected emerald green ones – with extreme caution of course. Marseea pulled close and leaned in. A most spectacular gem, the Heart of Terra Australis, leaned in with her. This crimson jewel in the shape of a sphere hung from a pendant attached to a thick gold necklace. Penelope behind Diedrika, she leaned close as well.
“Remember, bold one, greatness comes in many forms. Do not temper your ambition until you rule them all.”
About to pull away, Diedrika gripped Marseea’s robes with nails both as sharp and strong as a blade and pulled her even closer. With her left hand, Diedrika then swept Marseea’s dark brown locks away from her right ear.
“And once I do, Witch Queen, will it be you who bows before me first?”
Penelope’s bulging eyes nearly popped out of their sockets – this pose came often when in Diedrika’s presence. Power oozed from the striking Mermaid; she commanded it flawlessly, yet demanded evermore. And the power Diedrika did not yet own trembled in fear she would soon claim it. But Marseea was far from helpless. Believed by many to be the greatest sorceress since Desdessandra, in regards to power – mystic power especially – she possessed plenty of her own.
“Perhaps,” Marseea answered back coldly. Her tone stayed aloof, but her face softened and she flashed Diedrika a playfully devious grin. “In the end, it all depends on the manner in which you do so.”
The young Mermaid queen and ancient Sapien one ‘enjoyed’ the most complex of relationships. As Diedrika’s primary tutor, one could easily argue the teacher had learned just as much from the student as did the student from the teacher. As far as Penelope could tell, with nary a hint of guilt, each would happily slay the other if it meant more power would be within her grasp because of it. A number of regents’ duels having taken place across the centuries, one between these two would surely be the greatest of them all. That they both knew this, that they both reveled in this, somehow gave them free reign to indulge in each other’s steadfast ambition. And, as a result, see the other as a friend. Albeit a dangerous one.
With a wink, Queen Marseea stepped toward Judiascar. Atop the new Gryphon king’s head gleamed not just any war helmet, but one known their world over. Semitius, the great Gryphon who led his kind to freedom, once proudly wore this grand gift given to him by the Arachna king, Nowzar. Allies when the world as they now knew it was young, fire could not hate water more than Gryphons and Arachna did now.
“Goodness, Eeshaya, what are you feeding your king?” Queen Marseea quipped. As if to be the most massive Gryphon alive was not enough, Judiascar puffed out his chest.
This one a king’s king, he was, in all ways, what every Gryphon should ever hope to be.
“It is my secret and I will never tell!” Eeshaya crowed. As Komnena hugged the doting Gryphon mother, she caught Penelope watching them and smiled at her fellow historian.
Married two years earlier, Eeshaya had already bore Judiascar a son: Zacharias. Nestled between his mother’s front limbs, every time the nearly one-year-old cub stood, she kindly licked his head until he sat again. This only worked the first few times, however. More than once and using her beak to do so, she pushed his bottom back down when needed. And more than once, Zacharias whined and babbled in protest.
The proud father looked down upon his restless son and grinned. Judiascar’s sister sat next to Eeshaya. Not a restless winged cub cuddled between her front limbs, but two sleeping ones. Twin sons barely a month old snoozed soundly in a large basket in front of her.
With every sneaked peek of Ahriman and Ahuram to his left, how Zacharias resisted pouncing on them was anyone’s guess!
“Hello, young prince,” Queen Marseea said kindly as she knelt down in front of Zacharias. She then began to stroke his ears. The ears of a Gryphon were much like a lion’s ears, but pointed at the tips instead of rounded. Next, she let Zacharias nibble on her finger with his beak. In another year or so, his snout would bare teeth and the soft beak at the end of this snout would become hardened enough to sever an arm in a single snap. After a few pompous giggles, Marseea pulled from under her robes a cream-colored silk pouch and looked up at Judiascar. “May I?”
“It appears that Marseea wishes to show us a magic trick,” Diedrika announced.
Tales of magic gleaned from ancient stories more often than seen these days, everyone within earshot gasped. As pathetic as their race was as a whole, a single Sapien gifted in charms and spells had no equal.
Especially this one.
The king slowly turned to his queen. Diedrika took in Judiascar’s unsure look and nodded – with supreme confidence, of course. He in turn nodded to Marseea to proceed.
Marseea withdrew a pinch of enchanted dust from her pouch and sprinkled it atop Zacharias’ back and head; the young cub shook his little wings and let out a trio of sneezes. This dust could be of crushed gold, silver, precious gems, and … well, Penelope did not really know what else. But she did know this: A cunning witch such as Marseea kept multiple pouches of differing colors by her side at all times. The darker the color of the pouch, the more sinister the curse she could speak. But dark magic did not necessarily encompass the greatest spells one could wield. Pouches made of threaded gold and silver silk held the most valuable of enchanted dust. Whether for good or evil – one never knew until the magic was upon them – a sorceress used this dust made up of the rarest elements of their world to unleash the most powerful spells or curses.
As Queen Marseea stroked Zacharias’ chin, he lifted a front limb and wrapped four tiny talons around her wrist. Next, he turned his dreamy face to his right and in Penelope’s direction. Marseea then spoke her spell in a soft, soothing voice:
“A young prince before us today,
a grand king he will someday be,
Two now asleep, bow your regal
head little one and make it three.”
Penelope watched in delight as precious silver eyes tinged with gold turned glassy. Same as a lion, Zacharias’ eyes were set forward, but he would soon possess – if he did not already – the spectacular eyesight of the most cunning eagle. With a wide yawn, Zacharias closed both eyes, but stayed seated. Queen Marseea’s cupped hand below his chin was now all that held him up. She kissed the head where his crown would someday rest, pulled her hand away, and he did indeed lie down and fall fast asleep. To gasps, coos, and claps all around, Marseea rose and smiled. She and Komnena then let the new rulers be.
Hezekiah and the Arachna historian, Zarathustra, tailed close behind the Sapiens. No two beings in all of Terra Australis considered as wise, Penelope was no lover of Arachna, but even she deeply respected this one. So admired by near all, the historians were free to flaunt their friendship openly. The eternal hatred sworn between Gr
yphons and Arachna beneath their intellect, they often did so. Zarathustra was an all-black Arachna easily a couple of decades older than Hezekiah was. He stood in place for King Achaemenes who, as did Simonacles, busily prepared to play Harpastum.
A brilliant display lit the sky and shook the ground as Zarathustra was about to greet Queen Diedrika. Almost as if he did not feel the arena shake, he stayed steady while others looked around wildly.
“As the favored creatures of Poseidon,” Zarathustra remarked, “it appears his brother is suddenly jealous. I suppose Hades is not so pleased to watch helplessly the infinite glory his ocean-dwelling rival now basks in.”
Hands across her chest, Diedrika practically gulped for air. By way of the sudden shaking and splendor of the occasion, many hearts now raced madly.
“You could not be more correct, Good Historian,” Diedrika quipped in a high-pitched, excited voice. How she spoke so differently to some versus others fascinated Penelope. “Let us hope his tantrum subsides so as not to leave me the ruler of a destroyed city!”
“Or a melted one!” Penelope chimed cheerfully from behind Judiascar. Polite laughs followed.
Zarathustra offered as warm a look as his rigid face and unfeeling blackened eyes allowed. As did the rest of them, he no doubt marveled not so much at the sight of it all, but of the one. Even with a third of her tail tucked under to raise her upright, Queen Diedrika rose close to a pike tall and her reflective emerald green eyes gleamed brightly as she peered at their world with both a charming curiosity and command of everything and everyone. Sweeping curves Sapien women would die for blending in perfect harmony with sinewy muscles men envied – Diedrika owned the strength to match. A female Mermaid easily as strong as any male Centaur or Sapien, male Mermaids were just a tad stronger.
The Gift From Poseidon: When Gods Walked Among Us (Volume 2) Page 5