The Gift From Poseidon: When Gods Walked Among Us (Volume 2)

by Ginegaw, J. A.

  “Why can I never be wrong about things like this,” Komnena seethed through gritted teeth. Only the queen and her confused daughters, who now looked up at her, were close enough to hear.

  Marseea raised her chin pompously high. Her tone stayed unyielding.

  “I know the path your words wish to take me down, Historian, but I will not allow our handful of still living fathers to walk down it. You and the Centaurs see a city and its dam in need of protection … I see a race that needs it more.”

  If Marseea’s heart had already frozen solid in defense of more pleas, another shaking of the ground cracked its icy cage. The twins gripped their mother as if hanging at the edge of a cliff. This quaking his command to step forth, Nicephorus did so. A simple brown tunic belted around his waist and flowing to his knees showed humility Sapiens far too often lacked.

  “Are we so selfish,” he began in his deep voice, “as to let Centaurs toil alone with a bursting dam that provides life-giving waters to us all?” His head – bald as a river-worn stone – dripped with sweat. Soft brown eyes searched smoky greys. “Our shared city at stake as well, we must help them! I have gathered men and Gryphons eager to do what we can to prevent a catastrophe to us all. My queen, do we have your blessing to do so?”

  Queen Marseea stared at the gaggle of intelligent creatures. She clutched the Heart of Terra Australis that bounded upon her heaving chest and rubbed it as if trying to remove its gleam. Uneasily, she then looked back to Komnena who stepped forward and now stood by her queen’s side. As they continued to stare intently at each other, two minds owned the same thought:

  Fifteen Sapien males in total, these last thirteen possible fathers were invaluable. A crippling crisis was at hand, indeed, but what a horrible risk this would be.

  “My dear Nicephorus,” Marseea protested, “danger exists where you wish to go! Do not tug at my heart with such a sensible plea!”

  Stern silence was Nicephorus’ reply. As if telegraphing his yearning to do what was right over what was safe, this silent stance became as if a shout ringing in Marseea’s ears. At least how Komnena saw her cover them up and grimace, this appeared to be the case.

  “Promise me, my noble friend,” Marseea said with slow, careful words through trembling lips, “that you will split up into separate groups, far away from one another. Aside from this … I endorse all you see fit.”

  Nicephorus’ eyes lit up and a great shout from the others erupted behind him.

  “Yes, we will do this,” he pledged. Nicephorus quickly kissed Marseea’s hand. “In two groups, one will approach from the eastern end of the dam, and the other from the west.” Next, he gazed at his beloved wife. Melanippe stayed hidden behind Komnena, but Penthesilea lunged at him.

  “Father, take me!” she pleaded desperately. “I can help! Do not leave me behind!” Nicephorus knelt down beside her. “With my magic, you will see,” Penthesilea continued to protest, “I can bend water to my will! No else can do it, not even the queen, but I can, Father, you will see ––”

  A single finger over Penthesilea’s cherry red lips quieted her. Melanippe hurriedly came alongside her sister and Nicephorus wrapped his thick arms around them. This man – her man – a physical wonder, his upper body was even more massive than that of the young Nubian Centaur, Seneferre. And just as sculpted. Nicephorus hugged each young beauty tight and showered them with a flurry of kisses.

  “My dear daughters, I need you here.” Nicephorus pointed to Penthesilea and Melanippe in turn and cleverly hid the fear in his voice. “Stand ready to receive me upon my triumphant return! You, my love, holding a cup of hot peppermint tea, and you, my treasured jewel, clutching a basket of warm towels – I will no doubt be soaked and shivering when I see you next! Can each of you do these favors for me?”

  Sadly, but obediently, both nodded their heads. But no words, no matter how soothing, could dry the tears each seventy-one-year-old twin continued to spill. Nicephorus stood and shared with Komnena a soft, heartfelt kiss. A departing hug came next. The twins joined in and squeezed both parents at once.

  Nicephorus’ false confidence appeared to calm their cherished girls. If not for long, enough time at least to allow him and the others a chance to depart. Hezekiah tailed behind as they did so.

  “Hezekiah, my old friend,” Komnena called to summon him back. His wise eyes met her swollen ones. She still trembled from head to toe. That Nicephorus’ kiss felt as if more a fearful farewell than a cheery goodbye only made this quaking worse. “Watch over my Nico … he is most precious to us all.” Hezekiah nodded hastily to acknowledge her pleading words and sped off to rejoin the others.

  The four females watched sorrowfully as Nicephorus and the other men mounted the Gryphons. Awkwardly holding on for dear life, they soared into the sky. Once out of view, the foursome rushed back into the palace and again headed for the observation tower. The Sapien prefecture easily a full war ship’s length higher in elevation than the dam, despite such heights and this lofty perch, they could not see the dam itself as it was too far away.

  As Komnena climbed up the stairwell once more, deathly fear with the subtlety of the most dreadful poison coursed through her. With each step, she hated herself more and more. Back to the top of the tower, she again gazed out at the tremors, terror, and turmoil that gripped the city and then buried her head in her hands.

  Regret suddenly overpowered Komnena. Still teary-eyed, both daughters nestled close – this only deepened her panic.

  How could she have allowed her husband to rush off and risk his life with not one word from her begging him not to?

  Why could she not have found the courage to join Marseea in demanding that the males not put themselves in such danger?

  Komnena beyond distraught, Marseea clasped her left hand. Feeling this warmth, she gripped her queen’s hand tight and said a silent prayer for Nicephorus’ safe return.

  Chapter Six

  FEED THE GODS

  There are times in our lives, though they may be few, when bitter enemies must become purposeful friends. When towering structures reduced to rubble will need rebuilding. There are times when the broad shield of bravery and gleaming armor of heroism fail to protect even the most skilled. When old certainties die and give birth to new doubts. And on this horrid day, despair stalking us as if the Grim, we have come not to one such time, but all of them at once.

  – Alexander, Aeropid Centaur

  – Start of Fall, Year 4,236 KT[7]

  The aging Nubian, Horus, raced about the fractured, still trembling streets. Alexander and Horus’ twenty-four-year-old nephew, Seneferre, in tow, the three streaked to the highest point in their prefecture. Every part of Alexander’s body still ached from the brutal Harpastum game played the day before, but the crisis of the moment pushed away most of this pain. At least for now anyway.

  “Well,” Alexander gasped, “this was the highest point around.”

  The trio gawked with shocked eyes at the destroyed lookout tower.

  “It is little more than a pile of rocks!” Seneferre bemoaned. Another high point in sight, they scampered to it.

  “This is bad, Seneferre, very bad!” Horus’ crusted eyes took in a most miserable sight as he gazed south at the massive dam. Their crumbling world appeared to age him to the edge of death. As the Centaur master builder, Horus knew more about the design of the ancient dam than anyone else. “There are many cracks,” he continued. “Most are at the lower half of the dam wall, but those at the upper half, I fear these most! The walls there not as thick, water leaking through, it is only a matter of time ––”

  “AND THAT IS EVEN WORSE!” Seneferre shouted fearfully. He pointed not at the dam, but at the mountains on each side of it. Babbled murmurs from all three came next.

  The volcanic explosion and earthquake had shaken loose massive amounts of snow from the two mountains that made up the valley. Avalanches from the gorge-shaping mountains now rolled down the side of each. Snow, ice, rock, trees, and anythin
g else in the path of these avalanches was now being swept up and dumped into the rising pool.

  “The snow and ice will just become water – this is not a worry,” Horus shouted to them above the chaos. “The overflow exits at the bottom level already closed; those at the middle and top level will push excess water to the minor dam. But so much debris, this is the true danger.”

  The ancient architects had built the three rows of exits at the one-third, one-half, and two-third level of the dam. Avenues that jutted out from the dam wall allowed access to each. No matter at what level, these exits were large enough for a grown Centaur to walk into.

  “The water rushing out,” Horus continued, “will force trees, branches, and pretty much anything else into the exits. Once this happens, it will not be long before the confined pool rises to the rim of the dam. Hardly ever filled more than halfway, if this happens, a weight none of us can imagine could burst through the damaged walls. And from there, its waters will then wash away many of those inside the common city!” The faces of both Nubians turned as white as Alexander’s.

  “The Centaur and Gryphon prefectures closest to the dam will be little more than memories!” Alexander cried.

  Many Centaurs stampeding aimlessly about them in alarm, Alexander and Seneferre gathered a good many of these Centaurs. Some Arachna volunteered to help as well. Despite this horrid scene, it was still possible to prevent such horror.

  But just how much longer did they have to act?

  “The time for panic at an end,” Horus proclaimed, “bravery is now the order of the day, my friends!” He quickly split everyone into a dozen groups of ten or so. Each group chose a leader and these leaders gathered around Horus for detailed instructions.

  “You have got to be kidding,” Alexander seethed.

  To his shock, he found himself in the same group as his nemesis, Viracocha. The stone-faced Olmec glared back at him and shook his head in disgust. Artafarnah was the single Arachna assigned to their group.

  The fearless Centaurs and Arachna swiftly marched south against the flow of those fleeing north. Tremors and more shaking all around them, they arrived at the base of the dam with what tools they could carry. Their sole priority to release the emergency relief valves, different groups branched off as their leaders barked out orders. This would then begin the process of draining the rapidly rising pool behind the dam.

  “The releases are jammed, Uncle!” Seneferre cried. Others who returned from the opposite side of the dam’s base verified this.

  “There is too much pressure against the walls! The reservoir is past halfway filled!” the dismayed elder Nubian called out to the others. He pointed to the rushing waterfall. “The overflow exits have … been … reached?” His shouted words suddenly but a whisper, the waterfall above turned into barely more than large leaks.

  “The waterfall streams no more!” an Arachna blurted. “What does that mean?”

  “It means,” Horus answered with more despair in his voice than hope, “that they are blocked. We have a hard road ahead and must get to work. Come now, gather around.”

  The grand gaggle of purposeful creatures did as Horus commanded. He pointed skyward and at different parts of the dam as he continued to speak.

  “We have to release the largest valves on the outer edges of the dam! Six in total, three on each side – only from the avenue that runs along the top rim can we reach and open them. Once we do so, they will release water away from the city. Now, listen close.” The circle surrounding Horus squeezed even tighter. “Spaced along the length of the dam in five groups of twenty are another hundred smaller valves. The first row of these is about halfway up the dam wall. Walkways – each about three pike lengths above the next – allow enough room to walk along and release them.”

  First to the east and then to the west, Horus pointed to the wide walkways on each side of the dam. These two walkways were the only way to access any of the avenues on the face of the dam or the widest avenue at its top rim.

  “These smaller valves,” he continued, “will take a good bit more time for water to exit than the large ones, but at this point, we have little choice. Have I made our task clear?” The group gave a great shout to voice their understanding.

  Needed tools divvied up, the groups broke off into even numbers and then stampeded up the wide walkways on each side. Ten groups would work to release the smaller valves, while a single group on each side continued on to the avenue at the dam’s ridge. Alexander, Viracocha, and Artafarnah led one group to the highest point of the dam’s east side. Horus and Seneferre led the other group to the massive valves on the west side.

  “How did I get stuck with your foul stench?” Viracocha growled as they raced skyward.

  “I was just about to ask you the same!” Alexander shot back. Still emboldened by his brilliant Harpastum game, his smug smile was nearly as wide as the dam. “Fear not, stinker, for I am sure the waters of the dam will wash away at least half your filth!”

  The group finally arrived to the top. As there were three large valves on their half of the dam rim, they split up. The two Centaurs still glaring at each other, Alexander, Viracocha, and Artafarnah remained with the valve at the most eastern edge and set to work while the massive Centaur statue they could barely see through the rising mist and fog watched and waited.

  “This stone wheel here controls hidden gears inside the dam wall,” Artafarnah shouted as he pointed his pedipalps downward. The constant roars of the avalanches behind them were deafening. “These massive gears hold each large valve closed. We must turn the wheel to open the valves!”

  “Okay, open it – right,” Viracocha yelled. They looked all around and then at one another. The large sledgehammer each carried did not seem to be much use.

  “We need to push the wheel in one direction, not smash it into pieces!” Alexander cried. He pushed against the wheel, but it did not budge. “Oh, that’s convenient – Horus never told us how to unlock the valves! What is the purpose of these sledges?”

  “However we are supposed to open this valve,” Artafarnah shouted as he pointed behind them, “we need to figure it out fast!”

  “Easily three-quarters of the way filled – I don’t know how much longer we have, but it isn’t long!” The misery in Viracocha’s voice was unmistakable.

  The avalanches that fed into the reservoir were no longer merely rolling down each side. Each mountainside became the avalanche. The trio and the avenue where they stood quickly became soaked as spray, foam, and mist sloshed all about them. Water and floating debris filled the now filthy pool much closer to the rim than any of them had ever seen. Confusion and staggered stares all about, these suddenly mattered not as the next quake hit.

  The shaking dam wall appeared to bend slightly before returning to its rigid, upright form – minus dozens of Centaurs who now plunged to their deaths. The resonating granite wall tossed these poor souls from where they stood onto the walkways below. If Alexander and Viracocha had not pulled him back from the skyward avenue’s edge, Artafarnah would have fallen off himself.

  “NO! NO! HELP ME!” Viracocha shouted as he then slipped of the slimy, smoothed edge. Just in time, Alexander and Artafarnah frantically gripped Viracocha’s arms as he kicked his hooves wildly.

  “If there is a crevice or ledge in the dam wall to keep me from hurtling to my end, now would be a good time to find it!” he yelped. Incredibly, he did indeed find an open gap between granite blocks in which to lodge a back hoof.

  Although two helping one, a Centaur easily weighed twice an Arachna and three times that of a Sapien. That a Centaur owned no more upper body strength than either certainly did not help; the two could do little more than keep Viracocha from falling. Pleading eyes met the focused ones he hated most.

  Viracocha’s life LITERALLY in Alexander’s hands – what a quirk of fate this was!

  “We won’t let you go!” Alexander pledged through clenched teeth. This was true for the moment perhaps, but would not be
for much longer. In the struggle to keep Viracocha’s arms clamped to theirs, both grips were slowly slipping. The desperate Olmec looked hopelessly about. Searching for a miracle … one found him.

  The sun casually watching the terror before it, blurred shapes briefly blocked its light. Through the hazy mist and sunlight once again upon them, Viracocha’s miracle arrived. Atop Hezekiah, Nicephorus landed on the avenue next to the shaken and drenched trio. He leapt off the Gryphon and hurriedly grabbed Viracocha’s arms as well. Hezekiah swooped in below. Four working as one, the trio atop the avenue pulled while Hezekiah thrust upward against the Centaur’s plump chestnut rump and they dragged the frightened Olmec to safety. Sprawled out on the avenue, he stared wide-eyed at the heroic man. Nicephorus smiled and winked at Viracocha to acknowledge a ‘thank you’ the scared speechless Olmec would utter if only he could. Not really wanting to, Alexander helped Viracocha stand up.

  “Have you released the valves?” Nicephorus screamed to overcome the roar of the swirling pool. Shaking as much in fright as in giving their reply, the three answered silently in the negative. The rippling Sapien already imposing, the sheen of mist on his body made him appear even more so. A favored teacher of Alexander’s – most Centaurs, really – he had never seen such an intense look on any face. After Nicephorus took a moment to inspect, he pointed to the base of the stone wheel.

  “Here, see, right here, this safety lock must be disabled,” he told them. “I am not sure the others up here know of this and may be struggling.” Nicephorus turned to look into the reservoir and stumbled backward in shock. Nearly falling off the ledge himself, Alexander wondered if they would be saving him next!

  “The dam could very well break at any time! Artafarnah, our escape is by way of the Arachna monument.” With flexed arms twice as large as Alexander’s, Nicephorus pointed east. “Viracocha, go with him and find a way off the dam ledge.” The two did as commanded. Nicephorus then spun around to face the Gryphon historian. “Hezekiah, I need you to fly down the avenue. Stay airborne! No matter what, do not land. Make sure each group knows of this lock and that it needs breaking. Go, now – hurry!”