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

by Ginegaw, J. A.

  “Carnivals and feasts for the commoners have ended,” Komnena proclaimed. “Now late afternoon and the masses content, the time has come for the two kings to offer their gifts to the new queen.”

  Knowing what would come next, Marseea heard the six Gryphons grab hold of a giant silk shroud lying on the grass behind her and the other actors; she then felt the cool rush from their beating wings as they lifted this shroud into the air.

  As if the granite wonder awash in gold and gems was not enough, its builders had added even more. Four arched entryways made of marble pointed north, east, south, and west. Standing ten adult Gryphons tall, these arches were spaced out evenly about five pike lengths away from the edge of the lower bowl. Frosted glass as thick as a hand formed a dome atop the Golden Clepsydra to protect it from the elements. When the rays of the sun passed through the frosted glass dome; as if staring directly into the sun, there were times it was near impossible to keep one’s gaze upon it.

  The silk covering now properly draped over both the clepsydra and its protective dome, these Gryphons rejoined the audience and Komnena continued.

  “Cloaked in a massive cover taking days to sew large enough, Queen Medea has indulged the Gryphons’ desires to not preview the gift during the week it took to rebuild it. A great gift five years in the making, the Gryphons had built it at Hakleddamm first. As the Gryphon master jewelsmith, Evenshai, looks on proudly, his king stands ready to unveil Queen Medea’s gift.”

  Hezekiah and Marseea stayed put as Judiascar approached Komnena. The Gryphon king of today would play the one from long ago. He turned to the audience, puffed out his chest, and it swelled to the point he appeared ready to burst.

  “Queen Medea,” Judiascar began in his role as the ancient regent, “in keeping with the utmost desires of every Gryphon that your reign is as successful and long lived as possible, please accept this gift.”

  Penthesilea and Melanippe pulled on ropes attached to the massive cloak and the grand wonder met every eye.

  “A golden clepsydra!” Queen Medea – played by Marseea – gasped as she stepped forth.

  The new queen paused a good many moments as she took in such a sight. She then dipped her hand into the waters of the fountain. The Gryphon king stepped aside and motioned for Evenshai – played by Hezekiah – to approach. He sported a wide grin and grateful eyes to show the audience that her reaction had greatly pleased him.

  “The Golden Clepsydra – Queen Medea has already named it!” Evenshai exclaimed. As Medea inspected the towering marvel, Evenshai spoke of its design with reverent words.

  “The ever flowing waters swirling about your hand mimic time. Always continuous … always in motion.”

  Water in the lower bowl churned around eager fingertips that now enjoyed its cool touch. Queen Medea scooped up a handful of water and watched with fascination as groups of droplets fell gracefully back in. Waist high and made of dark, polished granite, its diameter spanned a stunning six pike lengths. As she stared dreamily at its jeweled lip, Evenshai’s next words lifted her gaze skyward.

  “At its summit and having returned from a great unknown, an eagle flies toward us. Ready to accept the delivery of the very first Gryphon cub, a mother and father lion eagerly await this eagle.”

  Medea’s gaze shifted to the top of the structure. Its wingspan close to four pike lengths across, an eagle overlaid in gold with green gems as its eyes soared motionless. Two bronze life-size lions with yellow diamonds for eyes stood on their hind legs on each side of a spire that held this eagle up. As if trying to reach the eagle, outstretched claws extended from four front limbs.

  Below the waiting lions weaved many dozens of vertical pipes, levers, and gears. Some pipes curved off into pleasing shapes such as corkscrews and whirling curves. Every lever molded in some compelling way, dozens of gears turning in both directions hid and then peeked out from random places. Gryphon artisans had carved the end of each counterweight in the form of a Yeturi head complete with curved horns. Raised buckets charged with scooping up water from the lower bowl buttressed the end of each counterweight. Some close to half of life-size, others barely larger than a hand; dozens of Sapien and Gryphon sculptures gleaming in gold dotted the structure.

  “The amount of gold and gems used to construct the Golden Clepsydra,” Evenshai continued, “is more wealth than has been mined from Hakleddamm in the last decade. A priceless symbol of perfect irony, a single message is its truest purpose: No matter how much wealth one possesses, nothing can buy even another moment of time itself.”

  Her gift properly presented, Evenshai backpedaled. Hands clasped to her front at the waist, Medea stepped forth.

  “Truer words could not be better spoken, wise Gryphon,” she said quietly. The stage now hers, Medea turned to face the audience. “Yesterday gone forever, today soon to slip away, tomorrow only a day away before it too is eternally lost; time the cruelest mistress, the secret weapon of the Grim – everyone dies. In due time … even Sapiens.”

  These words rather sad, a curious hopefulness overcame her. Although they would all turn to dust in the end, perhaps some accomplishments would not. As Medea’s fingers traced wistful arcs through the air, she spoke with a defiant tone.

  “Despite our own mortality, I believe it is possible that our most wondrous triumphs will fight boldly against such an end. Triumphs such as this Golden Clepsydra. Daring to track it, daring to mock its every movement, time will walk warily past these waters as if they are its enemy. Despite time twisting, turning, and changing our world in profound ways, as if timeless, this gift will remain unbothered by the passing of it.” Medea stepped back and refocused on the Golden Clepsydra.

  The fountain base was pure artistry. Twenty pieces of white marble three hands in width, forty pieces two hands in width, and eighty pieces one hand in width spaced out perfectly; Gryphon artisans had laid these highly polished stones atop the lip of the lower bowl. Each represented either a full turn, mid-turn, or minor turn. The full turn with its blue gems shaped like diamonds; the mid-turn with its red gems shaped like ovals; the minor turn with its green gems forming a single column shape; to see just one of these designs teased every sense. To see multiple ones at once threatened to blind any who dared gaze upon so many brilliant sparkles.

  Bells and chimes once again rang in a rhythmic ruckus to reveal that a completed full turn – the sixteenth – was at hand. A loud single click came just after. The red diamond encrusted sun cast of gold and a moon of solid silver then shifted in reverse directions. Both were now nestled equally above and below the horizon. Forged into a wide cylinder that acted as a ledge the matching life-size lion sculptures stood upon, these dual heavenly bodies moved only after every full turn.

  “It is our dear hope,” Komnena said to displace the encroaching silence, “that all so far have enjoyed this play recreating the gifting of our Golden Clepsydra. But in regards to this day and the day we reminisce of long ago, something is amiss, and it is this: All of us have already seen it. You see, on this day, only a handful of Gryphons had seen the Golden Clepsydra before their king lowered the long lost cloak to reveal it. We are awed by it, but not awed enough. The words of the historian of the past now strolling through the mind of this historian of the present – shall I tell them to you?”

  Applause and cheers as loud as when the play first began tore across the audience. Marseea and Komnena shared a wide smile and Melanippe handed her mother a copper plate. Komnena cleared her throat, took center stage, and began.

  “‘Hundreds of clepsydras sit scattered about Terra Australis,’ this wise Gryphon historian tells us. ‘Some richly engraved and pleasing to gaze upon; others merely handsome and more functional than anything else; most downright homely – there was and never again will be another as masterful as this. Gathered royals stand dumfounded before it. Eyes hoping for a closer look swell inside their sockets. Bottom halves of mouths silently curse their masters because wondrous jaws cannot drop to the ground in awe of it.
Because no words yet exist to describe the gleaming wonder bathed in the purest of waters, muffled drawls spilling past numb lips will have to do for now. Stories, songs, firsthand accounts, paintings – none of these stand a chance to convince even the dimmest of creatures yet to stand in awe before it that such a grand structure exists.’”

  Marseea gazed in Achaemenes direction. His role as the Arachna king of old now beckoned. Arachna not owners of the most expressive face, the one of this present day king playing an ancient one appeared especially vacant.

  “Aside from the gods delivering something of their own hands,” Achaemenes announced, “no matter our efforts, nothing my kind creates can top this golden clepsydra. Not only today, but most likely every day to come thereafter. The prospect of giving a gift after you received one with no equal – what can I do?”

  The Arachna king took a quick moment to glance to each side. He then pushed forward two finely crafted rolling cages. One pink and one baby blue cloak covered each. With a dramatic pause, he pulled off both at the same time.

  “Perhaps cute, cuddly, and living will do the trick.”

  Gasps and cheers greeted the sleepy gazes of the very young male and female giant pandas. Hezekiah came up alongside one and Judiascar the other. The sudden sight of this gathered trio instantly woke the pandas. Innocent, adorable, and lazy without a doubt, pandas also owned keen senses and a better than average sniffer that loathed Gryphons and Arachna with equal prejudice. These young ones no different, they now barked and hissed in fear as they turned in tight circles.

  Seeing the doors to both cages swing open, each bolted through the doors as if in a race. Escaping ramps dead ahead – the little balls of fluff more tumbled down the ramps gracefully than clumsily bounded down them. Once at the end of these ramps, both thankful baby cubs landed in the cradling arms of their regal protector: Queen Medea. Having knelt down to receive them, she sprung to her feet.

  “Are those mean old Gryphons and Arachna trying to get you?” Medea asked playfully as she flashed a wide smile for the now fawning audience. The little creatures nestled into her richly colored robes as if Sapiens babies. With one in each arm, the pandas peeked toward the audience. After a handful of grateful whimpers, Marseea could have sworn she saw them nod their heads to answer.

  And with this grand entrance by way of a hasty exit, the performance ended. Standing ovations and stuffy parties to last far into the night would come next.

  *****

  Arachna Majora were unique creatures with two very different sides. The first was that they were brilliant beings. On the other side, however, they had no choice but to rely on their most basic instincts to feed themselves. That they refrained from attacking an animal as helpless as a panda was perhaps the greatest sign of their intelligence. Gryphons were brilliant as well, but could not always help themselves. Mermaids wielded the power and skill to keep this savageness in check, but even they could not do so all the time.

  This thoughtful gift to Queen Medea – from a kind the giant pandas despised no less – just might have saved the species. During this age, as Atagartis did not yet stand in their way, Sapiens had begun to expand west of Elkabydos. Rolling hills wandering into scenic beaches that washed into the sea – who could blame them? Those moving west would have most likely hunted and killed those pandas too curious to hide from the spears of men. That the black and white bundles of fluff could melt Medea’s heart suggested that they would make wondrous pets and domestication took hold swiftly thereafter.

  Since the Knowing Time began, gold, jewels, land, and livestock had defined riches. But there were so many of those things and so few of these gentle animals. More soon living inside the city walls than outside them, giant pandas fast became the symbol of wealth. Hundreds alive for thousands who craved one, with each new day, the value of pandas rose ever higher. Status symbols of the rich, famed, and glamorous, Sapiens used them to lead golden chariots – up to four at a time. Owners of little endurance, this was just fine as purposeful application was hardly the point. None still left in the wild, the remaining pandas of the current age lived in the handsome stables to the southeast of the Sapien prefecture.

  *****

  The cool calm of spring melting into the searing scorch of summer, on the morn of midsummer’s eve was when Marseea first heard of it. Word had come from the west – from Hezekiah, of course – that Mermaids braving the northern waters captured a most heinous monster. This monster came to them not by way of force, but willingly. A grand prize, a main attraction – careful heavenly creatures! Beware your bestial trophy. To parade about such a wild creature tempts disaster no matter the care taken to keep it caged.

  Chapter Eighteen

  DON’T PET THE TROLL

  A good historian rarely seeks out and finds events ripe for the scribing. Much more often, she instead stumbles upon history in the making whether she intends to or not. On a voyage out to sea that I had little interest in taking, I did just that. One might call Theodoric a fool for ordering such, but what is the worst that can happen? We are Mermaids after all – drowning is not a fear the gods have burdened us with. Husband to Queen Diedrika, father to our Gift from Poseidon – BE BOLD, THEODRIC! For failure to do so would be the quickest path to dishonoring them both.

  – Penelope, Mermaid Historian

  – End of Spring, Year 4,253 KT[22]

  With each coming year, Centaurs found they had less to trade with Mermaids than the year before. The seafood harvests Mermaids gathered in late fall of each year were critical to Centaurs; without this bounty, some would most likely starve during the savage winters. Meats, fruits, and vegetables farmed by those of the East were in no way enough to offer in return, however, so Centaurs traditionally tried to make up this gap through building projects throughout the land. They had built Atagartis – not Mermaids or Gryphons. Large structures and monuments aplenty in both the shared city and every capital; in truth, there was little left to build.

  “Perhaps on land this is true,” Theodoric told Diedrika in early spring, “but what about the sea? Our fleet of single-sail fishing ships are slow and near ancient. The new ships Viracocha showed me last year are much faster and more can be caught with them.”

  Penelope nodded her agreement.

  “Theodoric,” Diedrika replied as if speaking to a youngling. “The noose I have carefully tied is now draped around the Centaurs’ collective necks. Ready to tighten my grip around those of the East, my husband – the closest thing to a captain we have – suddenly wants new ships to play with!”

  Queen Diedrika sat in the most elegant of thrones. Made of mostly marble and some Kauri wood, Iisinia was the first Mermaid queen to have occupied it. Its ancient builders had overlaid all of the wood in gold leaf, but this was hardly the throne’s most spectacular detail. Not even its base perfectly molded for Diedrika’s tail drew one’s eyes to it first. What made one who had never before seen this throne stare at it in stunned silence was what its sculptors had molded not below, but above. The massive head of an Orca carved from bronze rose over the top of the throne. And if this majestic detail was not enough to capture one’s awe, then the bejeweled Gryphon wings that sprouted out from just behind each eye and spanned six full pike lengths across certainly did.

  “Did you hear, Judiascar?” Diedrika called.

  Out of the shadows from behind her throne stepped forth the king. A throne to her right available for him, he only sat in it when other Gryphons were in the throne room.

  “Viracocha has designed fancy new fishing ships,” she continued, “and Theodoric wants them. So not only are we going to give Centaurs something to actually trade with this year, but also, at the same time, give them the perfect reason to whine about wanting more seafood because we now sail better ships.”

  “From the eastern edge of the old city west,” Judiascar growled, “Mermaids rule the northern waters. What is the point of fishing ships when the greatest predators in the sea are under Mermaid command?”


  “You are right, Great King,” Theodoric replied. “Orcas are indeed the Grim of the seas, but same as the Grim, they hunt for but one creature at a time. Each year we need to catch hundreds of thousands of fish – not just a few.”

  “Centaurs are already in deficit to us for a full two years of harvests,” Penelope reminded them. “How many ships does Viracocha promise and for how many years do they expect this trade to account for?”

  “Twenty-four,” Theodoric answered back. “Twenty-four newly built ships much better than ––”

  “The only reason,” Diedrika interrupted, “I ever allowed the Centaurs to fall into deficit was so we could stockpile Arachna silk. We are close to gathering all we require and the time is near when we will no longer accept such terms. I will demand of the Chiron that this trade – a trade I am still wary of – clears only the current deficit and nothing more.” Diedrika took in a deep breath and looked long and hard at her husband. “Are these ships really that important to you, Theodoric?”

  “I promise my darling wife; next year, as if my lips are stung by a thousand bees, I will keep my mouth shut and ask for nothing more.”

  Diedrika smirked at this. Next, her eyes pointed in Judiascar’s direction. “What do you think, my trusted protector? Do I dare grant such a wish?”

  Judiascar practically purred as he circled Theodoric. After his second time around, he stopped in front of him, sat down, sniffed the air, and then looked directly at him. “A purely selfish request – I like it!”

  “Seriously? You merciful fools are killing me!” Diedrika cried as she threw her hands into the air. “Fine, Theodoric, you can have your fleet of wooden toys.”

  *****

  Alexander gladly accepted Queen Diedrika’s terms for new ships. Their old ships used oar power and only a single sail; a half dozen sails as well as oars could propel these new ones. But one material allowed such grand vessels – Arachna silk. Silk held thrashed planks of wood tightly together. Multiple strings twisted around each other let a creature raise or pull almost any load and, when woven in with other fibers, silk helped to make the result a great deal stronger. There were but two ways to cut a thick silk strand: The clear, pasty goo Arachna used to dissolve their food before eating or a white-hot flame.