The Gift From Poseidon: When Gods Walked Among Us (Volume 2) (18 page)

“
‘Superior species’?
” Persepolis grumbled.  His head cocked as if a wild animal hearing a sound for the first time, he just glared at Evagoria.  She craftily ignored him.  So much so, she did not even bother to glare back.  Instead, the princess passed between the shocked friends and began to make her way toward the assembling groups.

“No matter who is superior to the next,” Evagoria announced without looking back, “I have become quite fond of you three.  HA!  A Mermaid, an Arachna, and two Centaurs as such good friends – who would have ever thought?”

The trio could do little more than slowly turn their speechless heads.  For many moments, they watched the princess before finally finding the will to join the other students.  As they meandered down the same path Evagoria had just taken, Adamarcus’ charmed expression returned.  He now gazed dreamily in the direction of his heart’s desire.

“Have you ever met anyone
so
arrogant,
so
full of themselves?” Persepolis growled.  Adamarcus nodded his head in a distracted motion.

“
So
magnificent …
so
beautiful,” he drawled dreamily to help finish this thought.  “There can be no doubt who the most heavenly of the heavenly creatures is.”

“Someone’s in love!  Someone’s in love!” Taharqa teased, as he pranced around them like a Sapien show pony.  Adamarcus just smiled, but Persepolis was still too angry to play along.

“‘A Mermaid, an Arachna, and two Centaurs as such good friends,’” Persepolis mocked in a voice that sounded more like Evagoria’s than he would likely care to admit.  “We are probably the only ones crazy enough to be friends with her!”

After a good laugh, Taharqa threw a puzzling stare at the stomping Arachna.  “‘
Favored
son of our King Achaemenes’ – really?  Persepolis, you are the
only
son!”

“It must be
so
hard
to remember eating your brothers and sisters,” Adamarcus added sarcastically.

Persepolis stopped and looked at them as if ready to confess guilt for a heinous crime.  Adamarcus and Taharqa halted as well.

“It’s not my fault!” Persepolis protested in a high-pitched tone blended in equal parts shame and disbelief.  “It’s not my fault!  I was too young to know what I was doing.”  The two Centaurs continued to stare at Persepolis with goofy grins.  “I did not eat
all of them
you know.  Some were taken away in time, set free deep in the forest,” Persepolis finished softly, as if this disclaimer pardoned him.

Adamarcus and Taharqa each patted a limb and the trio again made their way toward the other students.

“
Of course not
!” Adamarcus drawled in feigned agreement.

“Glad I’m not your relative,” Taharqa whispered as he leaned into Persepolis.  “I wouldn’t want you to eat me.”

“Careful now!  If I get much hungrier, I just might have to start adding my juiciest friends to the menu.”

After a slight pause as Taharqa leaned away, the three laughed just a bit too loudly.  Their walk down the long path complete, they had reached the back edge of the separated groups.  The last to heed Komnena’s call, the rest of the students – aside from Evagoria – looked up at them stupidly.  Once the trio sat and were quiet as well, the first of many lessons for the coming year began.

*****

“In regards to the size and intelligence of Arachna,” Zarathustra once told Adamarcus, “Centaurs – and to a lesser degree Mermaids – often forget exactly what we are.  Gryphons really do not care; they just despise us.  Molded from Theraphos and Saltiportia spiders at the dawn of the Knowing Time, we still share many of their savage ways, yet do what we can to keep them hidden.  Do not judge us harshly, my young friend, if you happen to catch sight of us in the glory of such ways.  Just turn your head and kindly step aside – quickly, of course.”

Best friends with Persepolis and having tutored under Zarathustra for a few summers, Adamarcus knew a lot more about Arachna than he did Mermaids.

Arachna molted, spun silky webs, and ate live prey turned into a fleshy soup just like any spider, but owned many obvious differences as well.  Unlike their distant relatives, Arachna males were larger than females.  And these females never attempted to eat their mates.  Males could be a menacing black, blood red, sky blue, deep purple, or brilliant yellow color.  Females were always silver.  For a reason Adamarcus could never get a good answer to, females almost never ventured from the center of the Agathis Australis.  Both genders displayed emerald green mouthparts at birth that turned to a burnt orange as adulthood grew near; Persepolis’ own mouthparts had just turned to this orange with his latest molt.

Once in a great while after a female Arachna’s eggs hatch to release her spiderlings, ‘survival of the fittest’ knows no greater meaning.  And not of the many, but of the one.  Upon birth and for many weeks after, hundreds of tiny milk white spiderlings wander about aimlessly.  But then, one night … a spiderling ‘turns’.  From late evening until just before dawn, this lucky one grows many times larger.  Suddenly an Arachna Majora – it dominates like one – and sets out to devour the entire brood of much less lucky ones.  In Persepolis’ case, he had only munched through a few more than half of his brothers and sisters before his mother could stop him.

Only one Arachna possible from each egg sac, if no blameless serial killer arises, the spiderlings then scatter off into the forest to live a trivial life in whatever way they or what might soon eat them sees fit.  As Persepolis’ two younger sisters made plain, many years could pass before spawning another.

Powerful magic and the gift of long life wasted – just look at them now!  A race given so much has so little to show for it.  Perhaps as the coming years unfold, I will bear witness to the mystic might my Queen Mother often tells me of, but have never seen.  And if my disbelieving eyes see ALL that the countless legends suggest is possible – so what?  In the end, I believe I will always see Sapiens for what they are: a race to pity, to feel saddened for, to wish they had not squandered such gifts.  In short, a species that is beyond pathetic.

– Evagoria, Mermaid Princess

– Mid-Spring, Year 4,253 KT
[17]

Studies that started on this day would run until the last day of summer.  Aside for the summer festival, very few days until then would be free days.  This first teaching day now over, it was time for the students to return to their kinds’ district inside the common city.

Using her walking sticks, Evagoria made her way across the large garden area.  Now beside the fountain where she had earlier met Adamarcus, Taharqa, and Persepolis, she stopped and leaned her walking sticks against its lower wall.  Next, she sat down atop the fountain’s rim.  Within a few moments, the figure of an unexpected visitor cast a long, dark shadow over Evagoria.

“Another season of teachings upon us once again,” Queen Marseea said proudly, “we are honored your time to join us has finally come.”

Evagoria greeted the queen with a shy smile, but felt wary inside.  In an effort not to show it, she tried her best to cast a friendly twinkle in her eyes.  As did her mother, Evagoria liked Queen Marseea most of any Sapien.  Diedrika respected Sapiens – Marseea most of all – because of their mystic power and long life (another form of power).  All the same, respect and trust were very different things.  She did not know for sure if her Queen Mother
truly
trusted Marseea, but guessed that she probably did.  Evagoria, on the other hand, thought less of the dying species.  Considerably less.  She did not respect Sapiens, and she surely did not trust them.

“Hello, Headmistress,” Evagoria returned in her most polite voice as she swept stringy strands of hair away from her face.  The fading sun now setting in front of her, orange and warmth took the place of these wayward strands.  “As you are honored, I am honored much more so and looked forward to teachings under your watchful eye.”

Evagoria felt more at ease after taking in Marseea’s warm smile.  For a sorceress more powerful than any in many centuries, the Sapien queen owned a soothing manner.  Diedrika warned her to expect this.  Wanting something to do with her hands to calm her racing mind, she looked down:

Perfect!

As good a time as any to rewet her still moist tail sack, Evagoria began to undo its ties.  As she did so, she did her best to keep eye contact with Marseea.  Unsure of what to say next, a sparkling tower much older than the shared city that housed it pointed the way.

“The Golden Clepsydra,” Evagoria gasped as if seeing it for the first time.

For this grand bronze sculpture rising from granite and awash in falling waters, every time truly was as if the first.  Built at Elkabydos by finally free Gryphons twenty-four centuries ago, Mermaid artisans had yet to exceed such splendor.

“I was just a youngling, barely able to keep steady on my tail, when I last saw it,” Evagoria continued.  “If having not gazed at it in wonder with my own eyes, I never would have believed such splendor could be real.  Is it as magnificent now, Headmistress, as when first built?”

“In much the same manner,” Marseea said with pride, “my favorite former student once asked this.  How fitting that her daughter has done the same.”

Marseea’s beaming smile put Evagoria at ease even more.

“Is it every bit as magnificent as when it chimed the days away in the old city – yes, I believe so, Princess.  When Queen Sthenele ordered Sapiens to abandon Elkabydos, those in charge of doing so must have exercised great care when they brought it here for the histories tell of none executed for doing otherwise.”

Marseea’s smile changed in a way that suggested she might not have minded such an outcome.  Evagoria offered little more than a blank stare in return.  Her headmistress may have thought such a line was clever, but she did not.  In fact, Evagoria thought just the opposite, but fought hard not to show it.  Queen Marseea moved closer, but stayed standing.  She then bent down and ran her elegant fingertips in the waters of the fountain’s lower bowl.

“As I think of both the Golden Clepsydra and your mother, I am reminded they are very much alike.”  Marseea’s strong voice turned dreamy.  “Both unique, both majestic – aside that one draws breath and one does not … there is little difference.  Although we are in the present, my mind cannot help but wander into the past.  A day unlike any other I will never forget now races about my mind.  Showing no mercy, it dominates my thoughts.”

Evagoria sat perfectly still.  She fiddled with her tail sack no longer and gripped the fountain’s rim with both hands.  Marseea spoke as if trying to wrap a spell around her ––

AND SHE LOVED IT!

“For fourteen decades I have taught Terra Australis’ most gifted and talented younglings.  Of the nobility or kindly sponsored by them, I have taught them all.  Every leader who now walks our world – no matter the nation – they sat where you do now.  So many students, I could have formed my own horde of legions by now!  Nevertheless,” Marseea took in the deepest of breaths, “one student, one legendary Mermaid, stands out above them all.”

Evagoria’s widened gaze met soft, smoky eyes.  She already knew of whom the queen dreamily spoke.  Still, as if a little girl holding an unopened present, she eagerly waited for this name to roll of Marseea’s gift-wrapped tongue.

“Although a few months shy of thirteen when she started, even I found Diedrika to be intimidating!  Every word spoken in a veiled arrogance, to sense such power building inside such a young creature was invigorating!  In a terrifying sort of way.…”

As would a toddler enjoying a good tickling, Evagoria giggled aloud.  “Oh
do
tell me, Headmistress! 
Please
tell me about my beloved mother!  I yearn to hear stories of her when she was young like me.  Surely you must remember
something
memorable that she or Father or Grandfather or Penelope has yet to reveal to me.”

With another laugh, Marseea stared off to her left.  Evagoria followed this stare and both pairs of eyes soon settled on a large rectangular dueling pit.

“Countless grains of sand in that dueling pit have witnessed hundreds of duels.  Some more memorable than others; two decades ago, a single one foretold a sliver of the future.  Because this tale also involves Adamarcus’ father, the current Chiron, I believe you will find it most fascinating.”

Evagoria realized at once that Marseea knew she had spoken with Adamarcus earlier in the day.  As she had barely seen her headmistress until now, she wondered how the queen could have seen them.

If she did not see them together, did another tell her?  And if so, why?

Despite the current show of warmth toward her, Evagoria did not think cold, cunning Sapiens cared about such things.  Marseea now sitting alongside her, she no longer cared as well.  A rush of excitement coursed through Evagoria’s body and she quickly slid as close as possible without landing in the queen’s lap.

“Spring instruction in year 4,232 – that would make it nearly twenty-one years ago – had begun just a few weeks earlier.  Although our current Mermaid queen excelled at all she attempted; in those days, she was quiet, reserved.  Diedrika seldom spoke, but when she did, everyone around her hushed.  Waiting for her words as if their next breath depended on them – never one to disappoint, their lives sometimes did!

“As the daughter of a regent,” Marseea continued, “I was of course Diedrika’s primary tutor.  This was not so much by design, but by demand.  Aside from Komnena and me, she cared little for any other tutors and was not afraid to let them know.  At fifteen years old, a single event during the first month of her fourth year was simply a preview of her greatness.  Greatness she expects not only from herself, but every Mermaid.”

Excited to hear a new story, Evagoria rocked back and forth.  Dazzled eyes grew ever wider as Marseea continued.  She both loved her mother and was in great awe of her.  To suggest she worshipped her would not be so far from the truth.  So powerful, so celebrated – Diedrika often showed her daughter much the same love and respect.  In short, Evagoria swelled with pride in knowing that such greatness boldly bid her into this wondrous world.

“As you know, Andromeda has been considered one of Atagartis’ finest artisans for decades.  Once Diedrika admitted that she owned not a speck of the sculpting or artistic skill of her mother, some thought it wise to bully her for it.  Oh, how I pity the fools still!  I will never forget how your mother warned a snobbish Mermaid who cruelly made fun of her.”  Marseea stood up and pointed to the center of the fountain.  “On the other side of this very fountain, the bully sat on its edge with a few friends while Diedrika was by herself in front of them.  I was off to the side a bit.  Finally hearing enough of their taunts, your mother bronze-made this fantastic weapon.  She then twirled it in her hands and chastised the older bully into a terrified stupor!

“‘Despite your mockery,’ Diedrika told this bully with supreme confidence, ‘I am not bothered by such foul words in the least.  It is true.  I possess nowhere near the creative skills of the queen who birthed me.  But of this, I care not.  For when it comes to bronze-making, I choose to focus on the skills needed for combat and warfare.  And I say to you now, pompous swine: Upon your head reaching the bottom of the sea by way of my spitefully crafted ax, only
then
will my artistic talent be on an equal footing with your headless body.’”

Mouth agape and its bottom half crashing into her chest, Evagoria breathed out a stunned laugh.  “That is most certainly Mother!  As you saw this, how did you handle such a scene?”

Marseea returned the laugh and could barely contain herself.

“Well … not meaning to at all, I practically stopped – not only this bully’s heart cold – but each of her friends’ hearts as well.  ‘I think it is time we practiced dueling!’ I shouted.”

Now doubled over, Evagoria nearly slipped headfirst into the fountain.  “You could
not
have said such a thing!” she howled.  “Did you pit Mother and the shameless bully against each other?  Tell me, Headmistress, tell me – I am dying to know!”

“I did one better,” Marseea chimed back after she whittled down her own laugh.  “I paired her against the current Chiron!  You most likely do not know of this, but although Diedrika stayed clear of Arachna, she did allow a handsome second-year Centaur to grace her presence: Adamarcus’ father, Alexander.  This duel, as you will soon hear, was as if destiny foretelling the future.  It foretold of your mother’s combat prowess and, well, at least I think this, it gave Alexander a sense of confidence he never had and carries even to this day.

“Gryphons and Mermaids gathered on one side of the dueling pit; Centaurs and Arachna stood on the other.  Close to a hundred students now surrounding the pit, I waited until all eyes focused on me.  Already knowing the first pairing, but unsure of the reaction I would get, I stepped into the pit.  ‘Diedrika and Alexander will duel first!’ I announced quickly.  With no hesitation, Diedrika calmly glided into the center of the dueling pit.  Alexander, on the other hand, stood frozen among the other students outside its border.  Pushed into the pit more than entering on his own, he appeared beyond nervous.  As would an Orca sneering at its next meal, she stared him down.  Our current kings my students then; Judiascar and Achaemenes watched with their own.  The already massive Gryphon king, of course, watched much more intently than did the Arachna one.  Intertwined, winding paths that he and Diedrika would eventually tread upon, he stood ready to step upon the first stone.

“‘Choose your Gryphon, Diedrika!’ I ordered.  No more of an invitation needed, Judiascar immediately leapt into the dueling pit.  His grand mane standing on end and strapping chest puffed out, he let out a screeching growl.  Their grins met and she heartily accepted.  ‘Your paws and claws are to stay on the ground, Judiascar!’  He smiled slyly at this.  Diedrika’s palms came together and produced a faint glow.

“‘No bronze weapons!’ I warned.  ‘Only wooden swords and shields!’  Diedrika muttered her displeasure with shrugged shoulders.  On the other side of the pit, I noticed Alexander let out a relieved sigh.  Every Mermaid but your Queen Mother protested these wooden weapons for good reason.  I only admit this because I know the outcome, but it was far from a fair fight.  Although nearly two years younger than Diedrika, Alexander weighed three times what she did.  Judiascar, in this case, was her ride and nothing more.  Now, in a true battle, if a Centaur suddenly rushed a Mermaid, she would bronze-make pikes and just impale him.  A Gryphon to ride would be helpful in a field, but in this small pit, not so much.  Diedrika had to have known she was at a disadvantage, but carried on as if she could not care less.

“The chimes of the Golden Clepsydra rang out the first of nine bells to announce the ninth full turn of the day.  As this first chime struck, a few of the older students who had heard the rumblings from the dueling pit wandered in our direction.  Next, as if wildfire spreading throughout a rain-starved forest, every one of them sped toward us.  Before the clepsydra finished chiming, they had
all
gathered around!  The scene overwhelming – that just describes those who now stood
outside
the dueling pit!  Future kings and queens, historians and generals; they all gawked at Diedrika and Alexander as if these two were their overlords and they merely subjects before them.

“Xavier and Artafarnah, the current Gryphon and Arachna generals, stood next to their future kings as if they already knew their generalship awaited them.  This was either their last or second to last year of teachings – I cannot remember exactly which.  Last, but not least, I laid my eyes on your father.  As Diedrika readied to do what only she could, Theodoric stared at his future wife.  In awe like everyone else – did he have any clue it would be
this
Mermaid he would win the hand of?  Could any have known that their future union would bring forth our precious Gift from Poseidon?  Probably not.  But in our world – as you will soon see – who does?”