“Well, Zarathustra, it certainly does look like he took a good deal of notes ––”
“Those are not notes! For his first lesson, I chose the names and placements of the 127 stars now visible in the eastern horizon. Afterward, I asked him to write what he had learned. He wrote down not just every star correctly, but every word I said. Every single one, Chiron! I would be willing to bet that he now knows the night sky better than most Olmec stargazers do. Well, the eastern half at least.”
Alexander’s face hardened and his eyes turned thoughtful as if replaying the conversation to this point. “What do you mean first lesson?”
“He is too young to attend Sapien studies, but your son will be taught nevertheless. By me.”
Alexander looked at Carolinica and then back to Zarathustra. “Now really, we appreciate such an offer, but you don’t have to ––”
“I highly suggest,” Zarathustra interrupted, “that you think long and hard before dismissing an offer never extended to another. And that would include my king’s own son.”
“But he’s still so young, Zarathustra. I want Adamarcus to enjoy his years as a youngling, for others to see him as normal for as long as possible.”
Many suggested there were two reasons why the Centaurs elected Alexander as their Chiron: The family he was born into and his unique relationship with Diedrika. But Zarathustra believed that the real reason they did so now stood next to him.
“And just which one of us is normal?” Carolinica demanded of her husband. “I did not marry you because you are normal and neither did you marry me because I am! Adamarcus has a special gift and it is not our place to temper his abilities. Not even as his mother. Not even as his Chiron.”
Alexander let out a deep sigh. He might have ruled Lacanesia, but it was obvious to Zarathustra that Carolinica ruled their home and ALL who lived under its roof.
“You win, my friend.” Carolinica wrapped both arms in Alexander’s left one to blunt the sting. “Just let me know when and where and he will be ––”
“I will be in Lacanesia in three weeks and his teachings begin then. Goodbye, Chiron. Goodbye, Priestess.” Zarathustra bid farewell to the younglings as well and then bounded off.
*****
Zarathustra made his way out to the palace gardens. The glowing sunset, a crisp breeze, and the thought of molding Adamarcus’ talented skull full of spongy mush put an extra spring in his steps. Standing together in these gardens, he saw not only Persepolis, but his king as well. Their backs to him, he strolled toward Achaemenes and his son.
“I don’t really know what to say about the Mermaid queen, Father,” Zarathustra overheard Persepolis say. He turned his black and gold body to one side and then another to ensure no one else heard him. “Maybe one of us could just eat her or something.”
Countless thousands of spiderlings Achaemenes’ brides had spawned over the years; this one, Persepolis, finally ‘turned’ in late summer of year 4,237. Two sisters would come later.
“And you would taste nothing but bronze!” Zarathustra bellowed. Persepolis had failed to look directly behind him. “Do not forget, young prince, Queen Diedrika can bronze-make weapons few have the skill to and does so in a way no other Mermaid can. And even if you somehow managed to kill her, Judiascar would tear you to pieces anyway. No shields, pikes, or axes would stop him.” He then turned to Achaemenes. “Just what has Diedrika done now that has you so bothered, my king?”
“Oh, Zarathustra, you know her. Always threatening this and wanting to dominate that.” Achaemenes took in a deep breath and sighed. “In our meeting, she made clear her wish to banish our medics from Atagartis and Hakleddamm. Can you believe it? Not now or anytime soon, of course, but someday. She said that those Mermaids who showed the will to learn the healing ways could apprentice under medics who now worked inside the two cities. In due time, Diedrika believes they will become skilled enough to wear the same crimson red garments and take care of their own.”
“We promised long ago to never withdraw our medics no matter what!” This crazy idea confused Zarathustra. “Total peace or total war, they would serve as they always have. To know how to heal is one thing. To have freshly spun silk and actually do so is quite another.”
“I said the same thing,” Achaemenes said after more sighs, “but my words did nothing to sooth her ambitious nerves. As for fresh silk, I don’t know how Mermaid medics would heal without it.”
“HA!” Persepolis laughed. “Maybe she will kidnap a bunch of us and make us silk spinning slaves!” The king and historian laughed uneasily.
“I most certainly would not put it past her,” Zarathustra drawled. “But you resisted such an idea, yes?”
“Well, I was about to, but it soon became clear she had thought long and hard about this. ‘And in return for teaching us the art of healing,’ Diedrika said much too sweetly as she gazed at Alexander, ‘I am willing to pay a great price. If you do as I ask, Centaurs will owe nothing for last year’s harvest never paid for and this year’s as well.’ Alexander’s mouth just dropped and she finally looked at me. As if he were already starving, he did as well. ‘So,’ Diedrika asked, ‘do we have a deal?’”
“You didn’t,” Zarathustra groaned.
“You guessed it – I did,” Achaemenes groaned back. “And from then on, my friend, it only got worse. Trying to sweeten the deal, Alexander again brought up last week’s war games at Lapith Fields. As if these thousands of warriors were just there to pick daisies, Diedrika pleaded ignorance like she always does. So I suggested that if Mermaids and Gryphons were going to continue to carry out their military exercises so close to Lacanesia, then maybe we would withhold silk and Kauri wood from them until they stopped.” Achaemenes sighed yet again and looked down. “She did not like that.”
Zarathustra dearly wished he had been there to hear all this and whatever came next. A historian for the most part always shadowed his or her regent, but a meeting of the five rulers did not need five historians to get in the way. As the eldest historian, Komnena scribed the happenings of these meetings. As always, she would later share her writings with the other four.
“So,” Achaemenes went on, “Diedrika did her pout and that thing with the one raised eyebrow she does when mad. She then turned to Alexander and said this: ‘Fair enough. Forget the deal with the Arachna medics then! Instead, perhaps your allies will be so kind as to feed this surplus silk and wood to your starving selves during the winter. The fall seafood harvests will be for those of the West, Sapiens, and no others. As Centaurs who are little more than skeletons make for poor farmers; spring now underway, best hurry and plant your crops, Chiron!’ She then rose as if to leave.”
Zarathustra and Persepolis leaned in as if awaiting the climax to a thrilling story, but their king did not seem so keen to deliver it.
“And …” Zarathustra said to push Achaemenes to do so.
“Well, what choice did I have?” He threw up his pedipalps. “Some Centaurs will starve without the fall harvest Mermaids give them each year, so I did what I had to. I rose myself and said, ‘My deepest apologies, Queen Diedrika. I should not have said that.’”
Zarathustra winced as if a wasp Persepolis owned the same colors of had just jammed its stinger into one of his eight eyes. He had a good idea what Queen Diedrika’s intentions were, but dared not say so. At least not yet. For now, he would just keep quiet.
“The grin that came across that smug face,” Achaemenes continued, “was positively wicked, Zarathustra! She then sat back down – as slowly as possible, of course – and that was that.”
A long silence came and went.
“I don’t know, Father,” the brash son said quietly, “I think I would have tried to eat her before I did that.”
*****
The Knowing Time still but a youngling, a team of woodcutters sent by Queen Cynisca found them first. Sent to the Agathis Australis to cut Kauri wood, a task to gather something old turned into the shocking discovery of something new. And deadl
y. At the western border of the Agathis, these trespassers stumbled upon and fought with never before seen creatures: Arachna Majora.
Caretakers of these wooded lands, Arachna would not allow Sapiens to harvest their treasured Kauri wood without restraint. Agreements on some cutting reached, curious patience took the place of the rushed thrust of a spear. And once it did so, Sapiens learned of a material much more valuable than wood: silk. Light as a blade of grass, strong as a broadsword; in return for endless mounds of it, Sapien coppersmiths taught Arachna the might of forged copper.
And that, luckily for the Arachna, was their first mistake.…
Twice within the past three millennia, Arachna fought as part of a larger force that smashed unbridled Sapien aggression. And rightfully so. The first war built the path of self-inflicted demise. The second war hurtled the mystics upon and tumbling down it.
Joining forces with the Gryphons 2,800 years ago, the stolen secret of bronze working served as down payment for that pairing. A great victory won, the cowardice of a few when they could least afford it triggered its fall. As a result, a pact that should have spanned centuries lasted barely a month. And ever since, year after year, each side inflicted a dreadful debt of hatred onto the other. As the centuries unfolded, the hate spat at Semitius’ brothers by King Nowzar and those to come after became less vile, but in regards to Gryphons, their hate toward Arachna only grew stronger. Just as Isahjoh, the first Gryphon king, had promised.
Twelve centuries later, King Avestan, allied with the legendary Nubian Centaur, Kheiron. Once again, Arachna played a large part in the ruin of yet another Sapien army. This alliance of Centaurs and Arachna still happily stood. No debt to speak of, generous dividends continued to flow between the two sides.
*****
A few days later, Zarathustra received word that many dozens of Mermaids cloaked in the same crimson red had already begun to shadow the twenty or so medics spread between the two cities of the West. Just as Diedrika had promised. He shared the worries of Achaemenes in regards to this, but such cerebral empathy did not last long. The weeks passed quickly, he journeyed to Lacanesia as he said he would, and the molding of Alexander’s son began.
Adamarcus took to his teachings with the vigor of a starving bear locked in a hall flooded with honey. Zarathustra’s goal was simple, yet sweeping: Transform the gifted young Centaur into a brilliant polymath with no peer whose name would become known in every corner of Terra Australis.
Studies with Sapiens to come a few years later – beware Witch Queen! Not all of us are so fooled by your bewitching pleasantries. Adamarcus unleashed, he just might uncover a few secrets your conniving self and sneaky companion would rather keep hidden. And if he does not do so on his own, with the young Centaur’s help, THIS historian surely will.
Chapter Eleven
THE GIFT FROM POSEIDON
“The princess is our reward for becoming so majestic!” Mermaids gasp in one way or another upon seeing Evagoria for the first time. “Poseidon has delivered this grand gift to not just our queen and her husband, but to us all! Touched by the god of the sea – how else to explain such a precious treasure?” others crow. As to whether the myths that tell of such a story in regards to my Evagoria contain even a sliver of truth, I have not the answer. And even if I did, I would be the greatest of fools to tell another. An outcome suiting my needs so splendidly – true or not – who am I to deny such beliefs?
– Diedrika, Mermaid Queen
– Mid-Spring, Year 4,253 KT[14]
Diedrika watched over Evagoria as she slept. Having just returned from fetching hot tea, Theodoric was now at her side. Thirteen and a half years in the making, when the princess awoke next, she would take her first step upon the path to queenship.
Although wary of heights, curiously, Evagoria had chosen for her bedchamber the highest point in the tallest tower of the palace. As if they were twin serpents, two sweeping Kauri wood ramps wound around the octagon-shaped tower encased in polished lapis lazuli. Although the palace was set to the rear of Atagartis, a sweeping view of the east was still visible. And it was in this direction, through a large open window, Diedrika now turned her gaze.
“Even though they are far away,” she said softly to both her husband and sleeping daughter, “I can see them as if they stand close. And as I watch them, Alexander and Achaemenes watch me. With much less clarity, of course! Their eyes are wary, wandering, on the verge of weeping,” Diedrika breathed in deep, “and this greatly comforts me.”
Just as she had intended, the Centaurs and Arachna did indeed notice the flurry of activity to their west. It would have been impossible not to. With the decline of Sapiens, two mighty powers now dominated Terra Australis – East and West. Rattled by the great strides Mermaids and Gryphons had made the last decade, spies recently reported that the Alpha Centauri had urged the rulers of the East to step up their own military efforts.
Was it possible Centaurs had finally found a use for the three blind fools?
Such preparations more than pleased the Arachna, of course. Happy to oblige, in truth, Diedrika could not have cared less. Although relations between Mermaids and Centaurs were never more than lukewarm, there had yet to be an open conflict between the two sides. This held true for now, but relations could always change. Fail to meet the demands at the tip of her tongue yet to be spoken; in the end, no amount of training would matter as countless waves of wrath and warriors alike overwhelmed the East.
Diedrika took a few sips of her tea and set the cup down. She then stroked Evagoria’s hair for many moments before she spoke again.
“Her hair kissed by the warmest rays of the sun, eyes of the deepest ocean blue … my babe sleeps soundly before me. Tomorrow her first day of studies, all will stare open-mouthed at her radiance.”
Soon after birth, all realized that Evagoria was different from other Mermaids. Living not only today, but ever. Hair as if spun from the purest gold with sparkling blue eyes – no Mermaid born in two millennia owned anything other than a shade of reddish hair and green eyes. And of course, there was the diamond-shaped birthmark only the god of the sea could have left behind.
Diedrika would never bear another – what would be the point?
No matter how warm Evagoria’s glow shined upon a brother or sister her mother refused her, a cold shadow would forever bath this sibling in a darkness impossible to escape. Diedrika’s own brothers, Betrugen and Verrator, perfect examples, to inflict such a burden onto another would be almost cruel.
Diedrika raised her head and again looked east.
“Our beloved daughter, ready to make her presence known – there are now two us to be mindful of. Our Gift from Poseidon, a princess with no peer … Evagoria will eclipse this Queen Mother in every way. She will do what I can only dream, will become what I can only hope to be,” Diedrika wrapped her arms around Theodoric’s left one, “or she will die trying.”
These words spoken, Diedrika could feel her husband shiver. Theodoric was a strong, handsome Mermaid, but was neither the strongest nor most handsome of suitors from long ago. One quality, however, made Theodoric quite the rare Mermaid: Although of the nobility, unlike most young nobles, his status among his peers was more an afterthought than an obsession. A bit of a curious choice to some at the time, he owned a calm, subtle confidence. Diedrika genuinely loved and valued her husband, but this reign was hers and hers alone. To keep away distractions she had neither the time nor energy for, this loving marriage of unequals was perfect.
Diedrika rubbed Theodoric’s toned arm and smiled upon feeling goose bumps. Even after fifteen years of marriage, her words could still do this to him. Even after fifteen years of marriage, she loved that she could still so easily do so.
“Come, Theodoric,” she told him in a soft voice. “The first true day of Evagoria’s life to start at first light upon the morn, let us leave her be.”
Hand in hand, they glided onto the balcony that overlooked the sea. Theodoric closed and locked the
doors behind them. A brilliant moon lighting their way in the darkness, waves crashing gently below, sweet smells of the sea breathed in – the sensuous streak she kept hidden far too often begged her to set it free. Diedrika nothing more than an all-powerful queen of the greatest species in their world….
Who was she to deny such a plea?
She kissed her husband softly on the cheek and gently scraped her fingernails along the side of his other cheek. Theodoric shivered even more, but now for the right reason. Elegant fingers traced circles about his lips. She then ran the underside of a single fingernail across the top edge of his lower teeth.
“A new world about to take its very first steps alongside those of our daughter – the coming age will be unlike all others.” Diedrika leaned into Theodoric and pushed his ear against her mouth. “Take me into your arms, my dear husband, and prepare me for it.”
Chapter Twelve
STRESSED TO IMPRESS
As she focuses on another, I focus on her. This ‘another’ is a noble adversary and worthy of her hand, but I have a sizeable advantage. Undeserved and unexpected, yes, but this advantage is something a clever rival would be mad to dismiss. This Centaur may be many things, but mad is not one of them. At least not yet. And just how did I come about my advantage? By nothing more than her presence, a dear friend I have yet to meet, and who has never met me, has unknowingly, yet kindly, provided it.
– Fu Xi, Huaxia Centaur
– Mid-Spring, Year 4,253 KT[15]
In so many ways, this day was the same as every other first day of fair-weather teachings. And in one major way, this day was entirely different. Of great interest to near all was the arrival of a certain first-year Mermaid student. Of great interest to one was the arrival of a fellow Huaxia who had stolen Fu Xi’s heart, but did not yet know it.
The Gift From Poseidon: When Gods Walked Among Us (Volume 2) Page 14