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

by Ginegaw, J. A.

  “As for Penelope, she will be fine. Loss happens to us all. It is simply a matter of timing, luck – sometimes even stupidity. My family is her family now and always will be.” She paused and let out a slight smile. “Perhaps a long, friendly visit from Viracocha will help dry her tears.”

  “Actually, the gift is from Viracocha.”

  Without another word, Diedrika pointed to a finely carved table with a marble top for the Nubian Centaur to set the chest on. He quickly did so.

  “But I do have something for you, Great Queen.” Alexander turned and motioned for the Mermaid guards to open the doors. The Nubian passed through them one way and another Centaur approached. “These are for you.”

  The Huaxia stopped in between the two leaders and held out a large silver tray covered in, well, Diedrika did not really know. She cocked her head slightly and pointed warily at the ‘food’ atop the tray.

  “Alexander … what is that drizzled atop the strawberries and apples? Dark brown and somewhat syrupy – I certainly hope it is not what ––”

  “No, no, no! Not at all, not at all!” the Chiron told her as he let out a deep laugh. “Come, Evagoria. Try some and put your mother’s mind at ease.”

  “Wow!” Evagoria gasped after taking her first bite. As did the sea when the rays of the setting sun bounced off its surface, her eyes sparkled. Evagoria hurriedly grabbed another, an apple this time. “Mother, you have to try this! It’s so sweet!”

  Only after Diedrika took a piece did Theodoric and the substitute scribe take one as well.

  “This is exquisite!” Diedrika declared once she had chewed and swallowed a couple of bites. “It is warm too, but feels different than any food I have ever felt go down my throat. Tell me, Alexander, what do you call it?”

  Alexander’s face began to twist and turn in every direction; his lip curled and his eyes turned glassy. “Well, um … that’s a good question.” He turned toward the other Centaur. “What do we call this?”

  “We have yet to name it, my Chiron,” the Huaxia answered. “That it comes from the cacao tree and that this syrup was first created a week ago is all I know.”

  “For something that has no name,” Theodoric said, “it certainly is delicious.”

  “That it is.” Diedrika’s smile soon morphed into a firm look and her soft eyes turned more serious. “Gifts to temper the loss of a loved one and that tantalize our tongues aside, there are serious words that need to be shared.”

  “Indeed,” Alexander agreed. He ordered the Huaxia to set the silver tray next to Penelope’s chest, dismissed him, and then turned to Theodoric: “So, how are the new fishing ships working out?”

  Theodoric’s face lit up. “They are working very well. Even,” Diedrika shot him a sharp glance, “they are, um, I would say adequate so far,” he finished quietly.

  “Good to hear,” the Chiron said through a tight smile. From this throwaway question asked of Theodoric, Diedrika knew exactly where Alexander’s pleas – disguised as conversation – would head next.

  “Our world is changing, Diedrika, and many of these changes are not for the better. Every harvest from our side of the sea yields less than the year before. We try to fish for ourselves as best as we can, but as you know, the sea east of Elkabydos is little more than a calm bay. I wish we did not need to rely on the harvests from the colder, rushing waters north of Atagartis, but we do. Although we ask for more seafood every year and pay or trade whatever is necessary, you refuse to provide us with the amount we seek. Atagartis appears to have plenty. Why do you not send us the amount of seafood we desire?”

  Unknown to the Centaurs, there was more than enough seafood for every nation. They simply needed to yield their lands – and in due course their freedom – to obtain it. Diedrika now moved close to Alexander.

  “Terra Australis had been remarkably stable since the beginning of the Knowing Time, my friend. True, the springs and falls are windier and rain and flooding often turns fickle. I will also agree that winters are a bit colder than in the past. All but the most stupid see these subtle changes, but we are far from the crisis you have more than once suggested we are about to stumble upon. Come now, the summers have not changed that much. You have fields with no end and four mighty legs. How can it be Mermaids have neither, yet manage not to go hungry? Plant and harvest your crops, Chiron!”

  Diedrika tried to appear sympathetic, but his stern eyes easily pierced her faux veil of empathy. Alexander simply knew her too well. He hung his head and took in a deep breath.

  “The fields that have yielded so much in seasons past have become fallow in some places, still productive but less so than ever before in others. We have increased the land we use for crops, yet the total amount of food yielded has stayed roughly the same for years. Rain does not fall as steadily as it once did. Across our lands, wild game has little by little moved west. Despite this, our numbers do not decrease, do not stagnate. The situation has become critical.”

  Diedrika looked upon him as would a snake ready to strike at its next meal. Alexander’s charm had the power to temper that of hers, but not nearly enough.

  Diedrika’s will might not be the sharpest of blades when in his presence, but a dull blade can still kill.

  “If your population is so out of hand, then perhaps it has come time to limit its growth. Cull your numbers!”

  Alexander instantly recoiled at this suggestion and shook his head.

  “In Lacanesia,” he countered with a nervous chuckle, “such talk is blasphemy! We are a free society of free beings who choose for themselves. Although of four tribes who embrace their diversity, as one realm we are wholly united. I am an elected leader, not a monarch. I would never try nor would I even want to choose who can bear younglings and who cannot. The will of those I govern and the guidance of the Alpha Centauri drives the decisions of any Chiron – including me.”

  Diedrika certainly knew this, but could not care less.

  “Such a lack of control is a structural weakness, Alexander,” she suggested harshly. “Starvation is a curious result of unbridled freedom.”

  She verbally beat up Alexander from every direction, yet he kept his chin high. If for nothing else, she adored him most for this.

  That he was not a forceful, bolder leader was his greatest weakness. If only he would allow her to help!

  “Then starvation will be gladly accepted before even a speck of freedom is forfeited.”

  As much fun as this was, Diedrika did not wish to continue embarrassing a Centaur of whom she still felt fond. In truth, she almost felt sorry for him.

  It was not his fault he just happened to be born of the wrong kind.

  She took in and let out a deep breath. “Your personal pleas tug at my heart, Alexander.”

  It might have sounded as if this was a lie or these were insincere words at best, but what Diedrika spoke was true. Her supreme confidence did not allow her to lie. These pleas that tugged at her heart, however, did not have to amount to anything more than a fleeting moment of sympathy.

  Once that moment passed – and there it went – all bets were off.

  “The fishing ships,” Diedrika continued in a soft voice, “have paid for the past two harvests you were in deficit for.” Those hopeful, hazel eyes more green than brown continued to plead with her as if a pet hoping for another treat. “And … this year’s harvest is paid for as well. As far as I can tell, it looks quite bountiful and I will see to it that a bit more finds its way east.” She pointed to the scribe without looking at him; her soft face then turned hard and her voice with it. “But as this is only scribed upon bamboo and not yet copper, do not dare ask for more!”

  “Thank you, Great Queen, thank you!” Alexander exclaimed. “As always your ––”

  “You had best be gone before I change my mind!” she cautioned playfully. Diedrika did not really want to see him go, but she had to keep up the appearance of a dominant queen, not a fawning one.

  Alexander again kissed her ha
nds (she loved when he did that) and dashed through the Kauri wood doors. A long silence passed as Theodoric kept his gaze on his wife. She knew this of course, but just now agreed to meet it.

  “Well, I had to give him something, Theodoric!” He just chuckled.

  She had given Alexander what he wanted, only because it would help fulfill her objectives. Sympathy was simply strategy. The seeds of ‘trust’ sown today would help make fruitful the budding causes of tomorrow. A little more seafood to feed their hungry, whiny mouths to shut them tight was as if water for her stealthily planted garden of willful, yet to be announced intentions. With each passing year, Diedrika’s grip on power squeezed tighter, yet she wanted ever more. As Mermaids needed Centaurs less and less, she saw them more as future subjects than peers. And as good fortune woven in destiny that favors the bold would have it, Centaurs now needed Mermaids more than ever.

  How convenient!

  As Alexander was as predictable as the phases of the moon, Diedrika needed him to win re-election as Chiron this coming spring; fishing ships that would pay for three years of seafood harvests could only help his cause. Once he was re-elected, she could again tighten the noose. No more deficits. No more free harvests.

  The Centaurs had better come up with something valuable to trade next year or they would get NOTHING! Perhaps even something taken.

  Pleased with herself, Diedrika headed for the silver tray of delectable delights. One in her mouth, Evagoria crashed into her with a hug.

  “Oh, Mother, I am so proud to be your daughter!” she gushed. “How you handled the Chiron was just, just – amazing. If I can only do half as well as you when my turn comes, I will do twice better than any other queen who ever ruled!”

  Diedrika took another fruit, rubbed it in the sweet dark brown sauce on the tray, and popped it into Evagoria’s mouth. Those baby blues lit up like torches and her birthmark turned an enchanted shade of violet. As Evagoria enjoyed this treat, Diedrika put an arm around her and squeezed her tight.

  “As proud as you can ever be of me, I will always be twice as proud to be your queen and many times prouder to be your mother, my precious Gift from Poseidon.”

  Evagoria’s teeth covered in pieces of apple, strawberry, and dark brown sweet sauce, she happily looked up at her parents. As Diedrika and Theodoric returned her loving stare, they could not help but chuckle at the silly sight that now met their eyes.

  ****

  To be the queen of her kind was grand, but to rule over all would be divine. And whether it would be her or Evagoria to see this through mattered little. The legacy of every Mermaid queen was not defined by just her reign, but equally as much by the reign of the daughter she brought forth to succeed her. Every nation had their weaknesses, but only Centaurs had a crippling one they could not overcome on their own. They had to have the bountiful fall harvests from the sea to carry them through winters. Their numbers simply did not allow otherwise. And this desperate need would be Diedrika’s fulcrum to tilt the power of their world west.

  Fat and happy Centaurs made for much better subjects than miserable ones wasting away and this was where Alexander came in. He had a healthy stubborn streak and a healthier temper, but valued life far too much for his own good. The more willful the leaders of Lacanesia were, the hungrier the Centaurs would be, but this Chiron would only let their bellies rumble so loud. He would relent, perhaps even put up a fight first, but Diedrika had no worries about the outcome of such a battle. In short, a Mermaid who would be Empress of Terra Australis was on its way and there was NOTHING anyone could do about it.

  Evagoria always by her side throughout the two-week festival made Diedrika realize just how much she missed her daughter. Diedrika had been at Atagartis – not the Mermaid prefecture – for most of the spring and summer. A return to the capital in a few weeks after lessons ended and a grand birthday in early fall for Evagoria would make up for it. As for the three guests her daughter wished to invite to this birthday party, Diedrika easily guessed the first. But by herself, she would have had a hard time guessing the second and never would have guessed the third.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  INVITATIONS AND A JOURNEY WEST

  Every moment in Evagoria’s presence is just another chance to admire her. Even after five months, she still makes my heart quiver with each gaze as if it is the first. Hair that glimmers in a way strands of the purest gold never can; eyes of such a deep blue the sea could search endlessly for but never find; a smile that brings me to my knees every time – to suggest I adore Evagoria is akin to suggesting a boulder would smash onto my head if dropped upon it. Both are obvious, both have the power to hurt me dearly.

  – Adamarcus, Aeropid Centaur

  – End of Summer, Year 4,253 KT[26]

  To remember each word his tutors said and every scene most others forgot before the start of the next day – when it came to learning, this was Adamarcus’ advantage over all others. Except for when Evagoria was near. Then it would be just one babble after another. But such embarrassment was worth it as long as he could continue to stare into those eyes he so often found himself happily lost in.

  Adamarcus wished this final day of teachings for the season could last forever, but it was nearly over before he knew it. Goodbyes all that remained, the students now gathered on the main avenue in front of the sweeping steps of the Sapien palace. Mermaids would fly west in sky chariots flown by Gryphons while Centaurs and Arachna would head east. Few from the West would see those of the East again until spring came next year. For a certain one, however, this just would not do. And Adamarcus could not be happier.

  “Three invitations for three endearing friends,” Evagoria beamed as she sat atop Zacharias. She held out a trio of handsome parchments rolled up and sealed. As expected, the prince looked much less thrilled to be addressing two Centaurs and an Arachna than did the princess.

  “A birthday party the third week of fall at Atagartis!” Taharqa gasped after taking his and quickly reading it. “Thank you, Princess! I will most certainly come.”

  As Adamarcus nodded his smiling head to confirm he would too, she handed the other two parchments to him. He and Evagoria suddenly locking eyes in a way he had never felt before – Persepolis, of course, had to ruin it for him.

  “I don’t know if I will be able to come, Princess,” he said slowly. “I will have to ––”

  “Persepolis!” Adamarcus’ eyes fell to the avenue as Evagoria shifted her gaze to the clumsy Arachna. She swiped one of the parchments from Adamarcus’ hand and held it out. “This is an invitation to come to Atagartis and celebrate a grand occasion. It is not a choice, my friend. As you will someday be king, just think of it as a royal duty you are powerless to dismiss.”

  The echoes of these words still bounced about their ears as Persepolis took his invitation.

  “I wish I could talk more, but I must hurry home – it’s Mother’s birthday today.” Zacharias then turned and slowly walked away. “I will see you in a few weeks, my friends!” she called back over her shoulder.

  Evagoria out of earshot, the two Centaurs laughed. The Arachna did not. Adamarcus – and surely Taharqa too – waited for it. Throughout the school year, her haughty words gave Persepolis many chances to practice. So much so, he had become quite good at mimicking her voice. As they were now close friends, he only did this in a playful, teasing manner, not out of anger as he had upon first meeting Evagoria. Persepolis turned toward them; he certainly had the same stunned look as always. His voice, however, was not hers, but his own.

  “Where does she learn how to say things like that?” he begged. Taharqa patted the closest hairy limb and nudged Persepolis to walk with him. Adamarcus followed.

  “Mermaids,” Taharqa chortled as the trio began to make their way along the main avenue. “What can you do?”

  *****

  A few weeks after studies had ended and eight days before Evagoria’s birthday, the time had finally come to depart Lacanesia. With a unit of Centaur gu
ards, of course. The way was well-traveled and for the most part safe, but Alexander commanded these guards led by Viracocha to escort Adamarcus and Taharqa on their journey anyway. Their packs stuffed with supplies and eager to get an early start, the company departed through the northern gate. Although Atagartis was the final destination, the two friends and their guardians would first travel north to the Agathis. Persepolis was waiting.

  “Have you two ever seen anything like it?” Viracocha called in his deep, rich voice. Adamarcus and Taharqa marched just behind him. “A winding path with the whitest of mountains on our right and forests of silver and gold on our left – there is no more pleasant a sight in all of Terra Australis! A fog thick in some places, thin in others, reveals just enough of the land to lure explorers such as ourselves bold enough to discover it. And just for us, a fresh morning rain has washed away the grime left behind by travelers of days past and the stone walkway is now as polished as when first made!”

  Adamarcus and Taharqa giggled at such a pompous appraisal of their surroundings. Viracocha was certainly right, but regarding the trees that spanned Lacanesia and the Agathis versus those that grew elsewhere, even his words were lacking. Fall in full bloom and foliage everywhere else awash in bold colors, only those trees between the two cities dared show off silver and gold leaves born out of their copper colored branches. Broad trunks shaded bronze owned but one purpose: thrust all of this glittering glory skyward. With a nod of his head and a sly smile, Viracocha winked at Adamarcus. He then lit a handsome pipe carved from mammoth tusk and let the two friends be.

  It was both cloudy and chilly. Birds on their way south chirped along to songs the group sang. And then there were the squirrels. Adamarcus thought it amusing whenever these quirky creatures scurried onto the avenue in front of them. Some even stopped to do a little dance before seeking out nuts they had recently lost, had just found and had yet to lose once more, or worked to gather up new ones soon to be misplaced. Even more to Adamarcus’ delight, nosy deer, both big and small, occasionally peeked out from the woods to spy on the company as they galloped north. Every half a league or so, they would pass a watchtower with a pyre atop it ready to be set ablaze if an urgent signal for help ever needed to be sent.