The Gift From Poseidon: When Gods Walked Among Us (Volume 2) (35 page)

Cassiopeia knows.  How she looks at me, how her eyes meet mine, my great-grandmother knows those ghoulish talons inside me have begun to scratch.  I relive in my thoughts that horrid day when illusions of selfish grandeur came dangerously close to murdering my friends for but one reason: to teach myself how to control the wicked tempest brewing inside.  It whimpers weakly most days, but the day when these whimpers turn into screeches that will scrape the sky like scythes is on its way.  And when this day comes, it will be Cassiopeia from whom I plead for help first.

– Evagoria, Mermaid Princess

– Mid-Summer, Year 4,254 KT
[36]

To soar just below the clouds made Evagoria uneasy, but to do so inside a spacious sky chariot at least made flying bearable.  A quartet of Gryphons led the golden carriage they now rode in.  She never before had the courage to look straight down, but as if a moth drawn to flame, she felt the compelling need to do so now.  Evagoria’s fingertips gripped the curved edge of the sky chariot.  Outstretched arms still kept her head a bit from the edge, but bit by bit, she pulled herself toward it.  The wind whipping at her face more and more, she lurched closer … closer.…

“For the one on the path to queenship,” a stern voice said suddenly, “every stone on this path is a fear that must be lifted, polished clean of its filth, and re-laid.”

Startled, Evagoria slid back to the center of her seat and bumped up against Penelope.

“When you lift the stone,” her Queen Mother continued, “you realize the fear it represents.  When you overcome this fear, you may then polish the stone.”  Diedrika looked toward Penelope; Evagoria’s eyes followed.  “And just when, our sweet Penelope, can this stone be re-laid?”

Penelope raised her chin high, cleared her throat, and turned to Evagoria.

“When you, our future queen, believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that you can look others in the eye who are afraid of whatever fear it is you have conquered, and then, not with a command nor even a spoken word, they see your confidence in perfect clarity.  They will desire for this confidence to be their own, grip onto your resolve, ride your courage now theirs as well to overcome this fear.  All will do so not because you wished it upon them, but because
they
wished it upon themselves so as not to disappoint their queen.  Only once these things happen may you re-lay the polished stone in the path that is the stony sum of your fears.”

“Only many years from now,” Cassiopeia added, “will you know how far this path travels, how many stones lay along it.  Although we often see fear as something bad, for the most part it is not.  The purest of all emotions, fear sharpens your mind, makes demands that strengthen you, forces you to adapt, improvise, and overcome when all seems lost.”

Her great-grandmother’s next words made it clear she knew Evagoria’s inner torment had already begun:

“To inspire others, our Gift from Poseidon, is merely to reign.  To master the great power that dwells deep inside you, to bring all under your banner not because you wish it, but because they do –
this
is to rule.”

Evagoria nodded her understanding and slowly rose.  The wind brisk, she had to lean forward so that this wind did not blow her back into her seat.  Or even worse, off the rear of the carriage.  She moved to the gap between Diedrika and Cassiopeia, gripped the carriage front, and pulled herself onto the ruby red seat.  She then leaned over the edge and looked straight down.

“Wow,” she drawled after gazing at the sweeping world below them.  “I can see the northern edge of Antediluvium!  But the size of a toy, it must still be some leagues away.”

Forests great and small dotted the rolling prairies of Lapith Fields.  Wide swathes of wildflowers near every shade of purple and blue swayed in the wind while wisps of golden grasses blanketed everywhere else trees and flowers did not.  She also caught sight of Centaurs galloping in the direction of the shared city.

Evagoria lifted herself off the cushion and immediately found herself in the grip of her mother.  Diedrika kissed her cheek and lifted Evagoria onto her flukes; the wind then tossed her back into her seat.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Penelope asked playfully.

Evagoria shook her head and smiled.  After many moments of joyful silence passed, she just had to ask: “As the greatest queen ever, I would not think so, but often do wonder – is there anything you are afraid of?”

There were times when her mother rewarded Evagoria’s awestruck stare with the proudest of stares in return – this was one such time.  Every time before when Diedrika had done so, Evagoria immediately knew why.  Until now.

“There is.”  Her mother’s face morphed into one of hard resolve, but her next words were soft and dreamy.  “The single stone in my path is near impossible to move.  Each time I look upon this stone, it blinds me as would to look straight into the fully risen sun.  Just to wonder if I will ever overcome it, with the fury of the howling winter wind, this fear bites at me each time I do so.  A blade with no handle my soul on its bravest days grips tight, it cuts freely, deeply.  My one, great fear is that I will not be the teacher, the leader, the mother our Gift from Poseidon deserves … that your divine molding demands.”

These words overwhelmed Evagoria.  The moon could have fallen out of the sky and landed on her head, yet she would have only been half as stunned as she was now.  She had no response; she had barely a thought.  Only eyes swelling like waterlogged sponges and trembling hands.  A moment ago, Evagoria had never felt more grown up.  Now she suddenly felt as if a spellbound youngling.

AND SHE LOVED IT!

She flung herself into Diedrika’s arms once more and nestled into them.  The daughter nearly as tall as her mother made this embrace awkward, but more special than anything Evagoria could remember.  Their chariot now in its descent, she released from Diedrika’s loving grip and returned to her seat next to Penelope.

“Thank you for such kind words, my queen,” Evagoria said with a quiet reverence.  “And thank you for being a far better teacher, leader,
and
mother than any Mermaid – Gift from Poseidon or not – could ever deserve.”

Same as with Harpastum the summer before, this would be Evagoria’s first time attending the Summer Games.  A few turns of the clepsydra having passed since arriving in the shared city, Evagoria and the rest of those who would participate now lined up just outside the western gates of the arena.  Each delegation broken up by event, the roving field archers made up the rear.

For the entire spring to no avail, she had peppered Penelope with questions of how the games worked and begged for a bit of history in regards to them and the heroes and heroines who had competed over the years.  Ready with an excuse every time – always somewhere to go or something to do – entrapment came next.  Evagoria’s mind now wandered as she recalled the day she had so cleverly set and sprung this trap.

*****

With a scrumptious lunch Evagoria prepared herself, it was time to lure Penelope in.  And with an appetite that would make the plumpest Gryphon proud, she took the bait!  Shrimp, scallops, clams, squid, and fruits washed down with Evagoria’s favorite berry juice – a begging stare came next and Penelope finally gave in.

“Three weeks before the Summer Games begin; I suppose the time has come to answer the many questions you have asked me about them.”  Andromeda and Diedrika nodded and leaned in.  “So, Princess, what would you like to know first?”

“How many of each kind can enter an event?” Evagoria asked eagerly.

“Events allow for up to five entrants of each kind,” Penelope answered, “but not every kind takes part in all events.  Gryphons and Arachna cannot compete in archery, Mermaids do not race Centaurs, and only strapping Gryphons dare wrestle other strapping Gryphons.”  Her cheery voice then turned gloomy.  “Well, in regards to wrestling, it has been this way since the Sapien hero, Nicephorus, died.”

Penelope took in a deep breath, smiled, and her normal sweet voice returned.

“Since Harpastum favors older, more experienced beings, no one over twenty-one can compete in the Summer Games.  For Sapiens, another hundred years is tacked onto this restriction.  This applies to every event except the chariot races.”  Penelope snorted and let out a laugh.  “Any Mermaid or Sapien crazy enough is more than welcome to enter
that
one!”

“And that is why,” Andromeda howled, “Perseos
and
you have entered?”

“He made me!”

Diedrika and Evagoria now howled along as well.  Penelope suddenly stopped laughing and appeared to be deep in thought.

“Oh, silly me, I almost forgot – and then there is dueling!  Every nation aside for Gryphons hold their own dueling events inside the arena to kick off the games.  Once each of these four determines a champion, they then face off against each other to determine the grand champion.”

“I don’t understand – every nation
aside
for Gryphons?  I know we ride them when dueling, but why do they not duel on their own as well?”  Wide grins puzzled Evagoria even more.

Diedrika let out a pompous laugh.  “Because no Sapien, Arachna, or Centaur wants to be ripped to pieces by one!”

As she laughed along, Evagoria thought it interesting how her mother did not mention ‘Mermaids’ as well.  After a few moments to digest what she had learned so far – along with another few bites, of course – it was time for another question.

“Tell me about winning!” Evagoria begged.  “Do I know anyone who has won before?”

“As you wish, Princess.  Winners receive neither gold nor jewels nor any other tangible valuable.  Only something invaluable – fame.”  Evagoria felt her birthmark turn warm.  “And no one in recent years has won more than our own King Judiascar!”

Diedrika applauded as if the king was there to receive it.

Penelope suddenly rose and hovered over them; she spoke more quickly than usual.  “For three straight games, he demolished ALL comers at wrestling.  So amazing was Judiascar – then a prince – he even won the short race once!  That a Centaur nearly always wins this and the other races make Judiascar’s victory even more remarkable.”

Evagoria had never thought of the brawny Gryphon king in this way.  She had a hard time imagining him being so quick, but he obviously was.  At least back then.

“Ahuram is racing this year,” Evagoria remembered.  “Such an effortless runner – I think he just might win!”  She liked Ahuram almost as much as she liked Zacharias.  His brother, Ahriman – eh, not so much.  Evagoria now turned to Diedrika.  “And what about you, Mother?  So strong and skilled with every weapon, what events did you participate in?”

So many adventures in regards to her Queen Mother others had already told her of, Evagoria sat perfectly still in eager anticipation of just one more.  Diedrika let out a deep breath and doused Evagoria’s hopes quicker than water poured atop flame.

“I never participated in the games,” she said flatly.  “There is nothing for me to prove.  In a true battle with lives on the line, do you
really
think my arrow or battle-ax would miss its mark?”

Evagoria’s excitement suddenly drowning in embarrassment, she shook her head.

“In a duel to the death,” Diedrika continued, “do you
really
think it would be my life that would end and not the life of whoever I faced?”

Evagoria shook her head again.

Before her Queen Mother had even been crowned, she invented the compound bow used by most archers, tamed the Orcas they rode atop when patrolling the northern seas, and broke the spirit of a Gryphon – Judiascar – none before had ever seen own such size and strength.  Diedrika was not just a legend, but a legend who made all other ‘legends’ wanna-be’s, has-been’s, and also-ran’s.  In short, this was a guild of one and her mother was it.

Every Mermaid expecting Evagoria to exceed this legend – just how was she supposed to do this?

“I think we need a bit more to drink,” Evagoria said in a cracked voice as she lifted up an empty carafe.  Her hands trembled and the carafe almost fell from her shaky grip, but the other hand saved it just in time.  She then rose and clumsily made her way into the cookery.

A young Princess Diedrika might not have had anything to prove, but a young Princess Evagoria certainly did.  And to no one more than herself.  That she felt the need to participate in the games her mother never bothered to stunned her.  Alone finally, this craved solitude lasted but a moment.  Andromeda had followed her into the cookery and now slid up against her side.

“Every queen is different,” her grandmother began in barely more than a whisper, “but there is one absolute.  Whether the beginning of your reign or the end, historians will scribe all and those who are interested in such things will read all.”

Andromeda ran a single finger of her left hand under Evagoria’s chin and their eyes met.

“With this in mind, always remember: Queenship is not a single adventure or even a few, but a grand series of them.  Those who come after us will remember the total tally of these many adventures, not just the highs and lows of individual ones.  It is
this
tally, Evagoria, which will determine the legacy you leave behind.”

Her grandmother kissed her cheek.

“Slow and steady, rarely hasty,” Andromeda’s voice and eyes now turned sad, “‘tis better to be the sun that rises each day barely noticed than the shooting star that enthralls all,” she turned to leave Evagoria alone once more, “but dies much too soon.”

*****

As these wise words bounced about Evagoria’s head, the hazy scene around her came into focus once more.  Atop Zacharias – she would ride him when they competed – Evagoria now inspected those around her.

“I wish I were not the only Mermaid to compete in archery, Zacharias.  It’s a privilege that I am, yet I feel like I am keeping others from entering.”