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

by Ginegaw, J. A.

  By way of willful words, a subtle show of force, and this unique Mermaid she bore but who many thought of as a gift to all, Diedrika imposed her will and made clear the grand destiny that lie before them. But she did not do this simply for her glory or even for the glory of all in awe around her. Everything she worked toward would be for the eventual benefit of the one she treasured more than anything in this world: her future queen, Evagoria.

  *****

  Amidst these far-reaching proposals, one gaping weakness greatly bothered Diedrika: Mermaids and Gryphons still relied on Arachna medics and healers. Why should her own kind not learn the art of healing and end this most ancient, most inconvenient arrangement? Today was not the day to deal with this, but such a day was on its way. Its arrival would no doubt deeply bother the Arachna, but the Centaurs would be too selfish – and hungry – to turn her generous proposal down.

  Chapter Ten

  PERMANENT RECOLLECTIONS

  Those who built Antediluvium more than sixteen centuries ago did so with joy in their hearts and song on the tips of their tongues. Sadly, the rebuilding of the common city has felt and heard everything but. To rebuild can be done, but to recover fully, I do not believe ever can be. So many left behind that will hurt until their stopped hearts allow it no more; to die is cruel, but to be left behind to endure so much suffering is perhaps even more so. Yet we continue on, and in doing so find wondrous things about our world that drive us to recover the best we can and strive to rebuild even better than before.

  – Zarathustra, Arachna Historian

  – Early Spring, Year 4,249 KT[13]

  Thirteen years had passed since a whirlwind of death and destruction stained their world. Zarathustra felt as if time had stood still since and could only now begin to move forward. From time to time, hope bubbled up inside him for what the future might bring, but such thoughts were short lived as every recollection of the bickering that came soon after the dam breach scratched yet another etch of worry in his mind.

  With the great dam in ruins, the southern part of Antediluvium little more than drenched rubble, and the last silk thread woven around the dying corpse of the race that started it all – pointed fingers came next. Sapiens were, of course, incapable of fully blaming themselves. Suffering shelved; next, they expressed outrage toward others in regards to the horrid outcome and their now futile future. They did not directly blame the Centaurs, but most of their words aimed straight and true for the builders and caretakers of the dam. In regards to this, Zarathustra was quite doubtful that relations between the two kinds could ever be the same. They were never that grand to begin with.

  Zarathustra was always wary of the mystics, but they had never been so lost nor so desperate. That their queen was such a gifted sorceress only made things worse; a meddling mystic with no purpose, a wild horse with no lead – there was little difference. Danger lurked as much for those in their path as it did for Sapiens who stampeded blindly along it.

  *****

  “Seriously, Alexander?” Queen Diedrika asked sharply. “Since when did soaring Gryphons in full arms and armor and Mermaid archers upon scythe chariots steamrolling east ––” she stopped suddenly and turned from Alexander’s stunned eyes and open mouth to focus on Komnena, who now swiftly approached.

  “Queen Marseea is ready to begin,” Komnena said to the five now standing before her. She spun around. “Please follow me.” As quickly as she had approached them, Komnena passed through the Kauri wood doors that separated the palace from the Great Repository of Knowledge and disappeared.

  The rebuilding of Antediluvium and the stadium and amphitheater complete; great pride and fanfare would normally await the fulfillment of such a grand task. But too many had died that dreadful day and so many still suffered dearly. Instead, Marseea suggested that just the five regents meet to revel in this victory and discuss afterward where their world would head next. Not waiting for the Witch Queen, that discussion was already underway.

  “Let’s cut to the chase, Diedrika,” Alexander said curtly. “Your war games have approached a little too close to our borders, don’t you think?” Zarathustra and King Achaemenes stood just behind Alexander. Although elected Chiron only a year ago and still learning his way, he spoke to the Mermaid queen in a way few did. As an equal.

  Diedrika leapt atop Judiascar; she then began to inspect Alexander with those power-hungry emeralds for eyes. A soft glow emanated from palms close together and a soft hum came from them, but she bronze-made nothing. Her inspection complete, Diedrika responded in a way only she could.

  “Well then perhaps your borders extend too far! The power of the West rises as steadily as does the sun. As I look to the East, however, it appears as if Centaurs and Arachna are stuck in sap.” A tense silence drifted between the two pairs of leaders.

  “Or perhaps we have enough power and need none more,” Achaemenes suggested sternly. Dressed in a black cloak lined with silver to bring out his bright red colors, the king looked just as wise and regal as he truly was.

  Diedrika laughed aloud. Dressed in a deep purple stola and palla, she took a moment to straighten her crown whose back edge was pinned to the front edge of the palla.

  “When a regent no longer seeks to expand her power,” the pompous Mermaid lectured, “she puts herself in the perfect position to do but one thing forever after. Lose it!” She then turned to Alexander, whose lips moved, but spoke words no one could hear. “The sticky sap having found its way into the Chiron’s mouth – even he agrees with me!”

  Judiascar chuckled in his typically wicked way. Diedrika then beckoned the Gryphon king to cross through the doorway. About to do so, she stopped him and turned at the waist; Zarathustra could now only see the right side of her face.

  “Perhaps a little more than war games needed to liven things up … feel free to push back at any time.”

  After more chuckles, Judiascar continued into the palace. The others simply watched them do so with blank looks all around.

  Peace had ruled Terra Australis for so long that most forgot what war even entailed. Despite the best efforts of Artafarnah, even the pikes of Arachna phalanx were no longer as sharp as they once were nor their shields as strong. Furthermore, none Zarathustra knew of had ever embedded his pike into the flesh of a creature not intended for the feasting table. But this was not true for all in their world. Some still knew – a few quite well – the art of when glory met gore.

  Especially her.

  “That Mermaid is going to be the death of me!” Alexander exclaimed after a deep sigh.

  “And you’re the Centaur she likes most!” Achaemenes bellowed with a laugh as he pushed the Chiron toward the Kauri wood doors separating the repository from the palace.

  Zarathustra now alone, he turned around to face the deep depths of the repository filled with family members of historians and rulers alike. Prince Persepolis, the king’s only son, was around somewhere so Zarathustra decided to wander about in the hopes of finding him. He would soon find not what he was looking for today, but what he had searched for his whole life.

  In one corner of the repository, Zarathustra watched Andromeda show an entranced group why she was their kind’s most talented artisan. In another corner, Viracocha, the Centaur historian, taught a group of mostly Aeropid Centaurs the art of shipbuilding.

  Of course, without Arachna silk, their ships would be little more than aimless canoes!

  Close by, Nubians argued about new ways to plan and build structures. A little ways away from them, a handful of Olmecs obsessed over timekeeping and the movements of the heavens to foretell what would happen next. After Zarathustra wandered a bit more, he caught sight of a trio of Huaxia Centaurs bickering over advanced dueling tactics.

  Build, build, build! Progress, progress, progress!

  Their hands and mouths always moving; things such as these were all Centaurs seemed to care about. Arachna liked many things, but change was not one of them. If new ways of doing old tasks was so grea
t, then the brilliant beings they had long been would have already thought of them! Work the fields, build the ships, design another structure, watch more stars, predict something else ––

  Life was too short to work so hard!

  With so much ‘progress’ to clutter their lives, Centaurs seemed to have little time for anything else. Lacanesia was a beautiful city, but the Agathis Australis was many times more so. And with a lot less work. Wooden ramps that weaved around towering Kauri trees told them just how high to build. Prey aplenty; water to be drank, not sailed upon; as many structures as needed already built long ago; the stars nothing more than pretty specks to light up the sky at night; nothing other than waking up refreshed the next morning that needed predicting – a simple life was a content life. Arachna did not dislike or begrudge Centaurs for their focus on such things; they just had no clue as to the point of it all.

  “… stars, moon, eagle, tree, and … Gryphon,” said a young voice close by.

  Zarathustra turned toward this voice and his eyes found Alexander’s young Aeropid son, Adamarcus. He and his younger sister, an Olmec like her mother, were in the middle of a game that now caught Zarathustra’s interest. Both lay atop a large, colorful blanket in the middle of the Great Repository.

  “Awwww, you got them all again,” the little Centauress drawled. Ixchelene was dressed in a long-sleeved goldenrod tunic and flowing bejeweled caparison of mostly green. The hair on her tail owned just as many braids as the hair on her pretty head. Ixchelene looked down and touched a few of the thirty or so wooden blocks in front of her. Each block had painted on it in bold colors a glyph that represented an object.

  Perhaps to hear of his kind had led him to do so or he was simply interested in the game as well, the son of the Gryphon king, Zacharias, walked over and sat close to them. He watched, but said not a word. Zarathustra saw this and walked over as well.

  “Hello, Prince Zacharias.”

  The Gryphon said nothing still. Neither did he even bother to meet Zarathustra’s stare. Although only thirteen years old, this son had learned well his kingly father’s ‘love’ for Arachna, but a dear friend would have none of it. Zacharias’ two eyes darted to his left and Zarathustra’s eight followed – Hezekiah’s angered face greeted them both. Zacharias nodded ever so slightly and finally turned to Zarathustra.

  “Good afternoon, Historian,” he said stiffly.

  “Hello, Historian!” Ixchelene said gleefully. Copper colored quartz gems for eyes glistened in wonder. “Would you like to play our game?”

  “Are you the son of the king?” Adamarcus blurted before Zarathustra could decline his sister’s offer. The young Centaur quickly pushed away his crimson caparison and sat up on his glacier-white knees.

  “As there is only one ‘Prince Zacharias’, then yes, that would be me,” the Gryphon answered in his snobbiest tone. Adamarcus’ hazel eyes lit up and a wide smile came across his hopeful face.

  “Is what they say of Princess Evagoria true? We hear many rumors of her, but no one I know has ever seen her. Have you?”

  Just as his father often did, Zacharias puffed out his chest. His still growing mane and forest green cloak floated in the still air of the repository as if a gust of wind no one else could feel rushed underneath it.

  “Have I seen our Gift from Poseidon? Of course! I will be her king, her protector, and she will be my queen – why wouldn’t I?”

  “As Chiron, my father will visit the West later this year and he is taking me with him,” Adamarcus said proudly. “We will go to Hakleddamm first, then Atagartis. When I am there, do you think I will see her? Maybe even meet her?” A youngling in a hall full of presents stacked up to the ceiling could not own a more hopeful face than Adamarcus did now.

  Zacharias bowed down in a deep stretch and unfurled his wings. He flapped them a few times before pulling them back in.

  “Eh, probably not.” He then turned his covered backside to Adamarcus’ suddenly disappointed face and pranced away.

  “‘There’s only one Prince Zacharias’,” Adamarcus said in a mocking voice once Zacharias was out of earshot. “‘I will be her protector … of course I see her … as for you, probably not.…’”

  “You are funny, Adamarcus!” Ixchelene giggled. She then broke into fits of laughter. Zarathustra noticed Carolinica catch sight of this and she joined them. After a beaming smile given to the mother that she was an almost perfect copy of, Ixchelene again peeked at the blocks and then pointed at Adamarcus. “I bet you can’t say them backwards!”

  Adamarcus sighed and swept the messy strawberry-blond hair from his face. He again lay down and looked to the ceiling of the repository.

  “Fine, Ixchelene,” he drawled as if this game bored him. “Gryphon, tree, eagle, moon, stars … mountain, Arachna, and Harpastum.”

  That Adamarcus could remember thirty or so words in the exact same order was impressive enough. That he could do so backwards even more impressive, this was not what excited Zarathustra most. That he could stop, have a conversation with another for many moments, and then recite them backwards in the correct order – now that was something he had never seen. As the younglings continued to play their game, Zarathustra pulled Carolinica aside.

  “Exactly how old are your son and daughter, Priestess?” He was only interested in Adamarcus, but asked of the little one as well.

  “Adamarcus will turn eleven next week and Ixchelene eight come summer. He plays well with his little sister, don’t you think?”

  Zarathustra really could not care less about that, but nodded politely as if he did. “This game – do they play it often?” As he asked this, Ixchelene dumped another pile of wooden blocks from a leather bag onto the blanket. She was obviously determined to make her brother lose and started to line up the extra blocks.

  “Constantly!” Carolinica answered. “Ixchelene makes him play. It bores him to no end I think because he never loses. She does not yet realize it is impossible for him to do so.”

  For many moments, Zarathustra listened as Ixchelene ran through more than fifty words. She did this quickly. Adamarcus looked as though he was barely paying attention, yet repeated them back to her just as quickly.

  “And just why is it he can never lose?”

  Carolinica looked at Zarathustra as if this was the dumbest question he could possibly ask her. “Because Adamarcus remembers everything. Ask him what the weather was during his fourth birthday and he can tell you. Who attended, food and drinks served, what gifts were given and by whom – pretty much near anything. As if any day was yesterday, he can somehow relive it.” Carolinica leaned toward Zarathustra and lowered her voice. “Alexander says a lot of it is just luck, but we both know it is a rare gift. My husband does not tell others because he wants Adamarcus to live as normal a life as possible.”

  “I think the correct word is ‘unique’. I know of no others who can do such a thing. Nor have I heard or read of anyone ever owning such a gift. Your son intrigues me, Priestess. Do you mind if I take him to another part of the repository to spend some time with him?”

  “Not at all, Good Historian, not at all. I think he could use a break from his sister anyway.” They stepped toward the younglings. “Adamarcus?” Carolinica called. He looked up. “Zarathustra would like to learn a bit more about you. Please go with him. When you are finished, I will still be here with Ixchelene and hopefully your father will be done by then too.”

  Adamarcus stood and smiled at Zarathustra. “Yes, Mother.” He had met the young Centaur a few times before, but only briefly.

  “HURRAY!” the little one shouted. “Mother will play with me now! Sit next to me, sit next to me!” Carolinica chuckled and did as asked.

  Zarathustra led Adamarcus to the third level of the repository. Empty of beings and filled with many cozy spaces to spread out made this third of four floors the perfect setting.

  “So, Adamarcus, what can you tell me about your fourth birthday?” For what seemed like forever, the gifted Centau
r went through many moments of that day in a shocking amount of detail. Fine, fine, so he remembered everything he saw.

  But could he remember everything another taught him? And if so, could he learn to think in such a way as to teach himself ways and wonders of the world no one yet knew of?

  *****

  Three full turns of the clepsydra later, Zarathustra and Adamarcus – carrying a number of bound bamboo strips with a generous amount of writing on them – returned to the first floor. Just as Carolinica had predicted, Alexander had finished his duties and now rested on the blanket with his wife and daughter. Once he saw Zarathustra and his son approach, Alexander stood up. His mouth open and ready to deliver welcoming words, Zarathustra did not give him the chance.

  “You and me – we need to talk.” As the Chiron cocked his head at this, Zarathustra took the bound bamboo strips from Adamarcus with the hooks at the end of a front limb.

  “Now?” Alexander asked.

  This question needing no response, Zarathustra simply stared at Alexander. There were very few reasons a creature his age waited for anything. And those of his age and station waited for nothing. The Chiron appeared to realize this and followed Zarathustra away from the others.

  “Why have you never told me about your son?”

  “Told you what?” Alexander drawled as he looked back at the others. “Oh, that memory stuff? It is just a trick he does.”

  He turned back just in time for a soft smack with the bamboo strips atop his head. Zarathustra then thrust them into his gut. Perhaps the smack atop her husband’s head what led her to do so, Carolinica joined them.

  “While you met with the other regents, I spent some time teaching Adamarcus. Read.” Alexander did as told.