The Gift From Poseidon: When Gods Walked Among Us (Volume 2) (43 page)

“The gods might favor some, chance might favor others, but death favors no one.” – more than any others, Queen Iisinia’s ancient words convince me that gods do not exist.  In my dream, I give them the benefit of the doubt: They do exist.  My own end has come and my spirit has been brought before them.

I ask but one question: “Why do the gods favor some and not all?”  I receive no answer.  “Cast my soul into the eternal fires for asking you heavenly heathens, but I must know!”  Silence still.  “TELL ME!” I then scream as I remember this frail creature of but skin, bones, and charm now standing before me not in my dream, but upon the dawn.

“Because, young one,” Poseidon says finally, “if the gods favored all, then mortals would be as if death and favor no one.”  Maybe this is the answer I seek, maybe not, either way, I do not understand, and therefore, still do not believe.

– Evagoria, Mermaid Princess

– Mid-Summer, Year 4,254 KT
[42]

Evagoria could not remember much of anything her three friends had said to her or to each other.  She just focused on resting her pounding head as Persepolis, his limbs bouncing all about, re-enacted his ax throwing performance as if Adamarcus and Taharqa were not there to see it.

She was sure she had seen them there
….

The night well underway, Adamarcus helped Evagoria drink a potion Penthesilea had left for her.  It tasted nasty, but as the thick orange liquid went down her throat, warmness overcame her.  Just now noticing that Zacharias had returned
––

How in the world did she miss that?

He rested his head on the left side of the bed as he lay meekly on the floor next to her.  Evagoria about to ask him why he looked like some beaten dire wolf, the image of her mother popped into mind.

Zacharias was certainly no dire wolf, but could there any doubt her mother had scolded him like one?

The spells from earlier in the day wearing off, this potion now kicking in, Evagoria felt more like her normal self.  At least the room was no longer spinning, she clearly saw three friends and Zacharias (not many of them), and her head hurt only half as much as before.

“What – a –
waste
!” Evagoria blurted in a stronger, sterner voice than she meant to.

Everyone silenced and now stared at her.  Evagoria sat up as best she could and took in a deep breath; in truth, she felt more like crying than talking.

“I have,
we have
, nothing to show for it but a busted arm, battered head,” her voice turned soft, “and the guilt my poor friend – my future protector and king – need not carry, but does anyway.”

Evagoria turned to Zacharias.  His ears still pinned back somewhat, the Gryphon she would love no matter what just stared back at her as if in disbelief she was not cross with him.  She was disappointed, of course, but not angry.  He said nothing in front of the others, because that is what a good Gryphon did.  There would be plenty of time to speak in private about what had happened.  Nonetheless, that sheepish face and hurting eyes remained ––

Suspicions confirmed, her mother DID scold Zacharias!

“I wouldn’t say that,” Adamarcus protested.  “You and Zacharias
did
come in second.”

“I don’t care.  That’s not what I came here for.”

“I told you she was going to say that,” Persepolis lectured dryly.  Taharqa laughed.

Adamarcus strolled over to Evagoria’s right side, and knelt his handsome self down next to her.  Zacharias did not even bother to growl at such boldness.

“You did better than me
and
only got nineteen shots in.  The rest of us took all twenty.  You had Orion beat, Evagoria – we all saw it, and I’m sure he would admit it if asked.  Maybe this is not much of a consolation, but if that was me the Yeturi had kidnapped and I could choose who would get one shot to save me, I would pick you.”

As if Adamarcus commanded it, Evagoria’s wit suddenly returned and her sneaky grin grew wide.

“
Or maybe
,” she said in a voice that matched the darkness outside, “I
would be in such distress at seeing your pain, that I would instead shoot
you
dead so that you no longer suffered the horror of that wicked monster’s grip.”

“Y-You, you would d-do that?” Adamarcus stuttered.

As the length of silence grew, her favorite Centaur looked increasingly nervous.  Out of the corner of her left eye, she noticed Zacharias finally lift his head off her bed to join the group stare in Adamarcus’ direction.  Zacharias, Taharqa, and Persepolis then turned as one to Evagoria.

She threw her head back – this hurt more than she would have liked – to feign thinking long and hard about such a scene.  Evagoria then dragged a single fingernail along Adamarcus’ forearm and looked deep into his hazel eyes.

“Probably not.”  Her friends howled at this; even Zacharias let out a chuckle.

For a while longer, they continued to reminisce about the games.  Just as the conversation turned to the closing ceremonies tomorrow, the chimes of the Golden Clepsydra rang out to mark the nineteenth full turn of the night and Penthesilea entered the room.

“Hello, Princess – how are you feeling?”

Penthesilea said this in a way that made Evagoria wonder if the young witch really cared.  To test her, she stayed silent.

“You drank the potion, yes?”

Evagoria nodded.

Penthesilea could brew a mean potion, but as far as Evagoria could tell, she appeared to care little about those who drank them.  She was in it for the glory of devising a remedy to show off her mystic prowess, not the glory of actually healing someone.  It was all just a game to her.  Although both the young mystic and Marseea shared the role of apothecary, Evagoria knew that Penthesilea brewed and prepared most of the potions ordered by medics.  Gryphon couriers would then collect and deliver these brews to the sick and hurting.  To possess great power to make such a sweeping mark on their world – why Penthesilea did not seem happier in the comfort of knowing she helped so many was a complete mystery to Evagoria.

As the young mystic collected this and that, Evagoria watched her whirl about the room.  The second time Persepolis found himself in her way, Penthesilea threw him a frosty glare for daring to do so.  Lastly, she checked the splint on Evagoria’s arm.  With a grunt, she sat on the bed and withdrew a white pouch with red script on it.  Penthesilea then sprinkled a handful of silver dust atop the elegant cloth wrapped around the splint and whispered a spell Evagoria could not make out the words of.  The mystic then had her drink another potion: This one was red and unexpectedly sweet.

“Although your arm will heal just fine in the next month or so, even after it does heal, you might still feel some pain when bronze-making for a good many weeks after.”  Penthesilea stood and peered at the other four scattered about the room.  “Out!”

“No!” Persepolis proclaimed.  “We are staying here and will only leave when Evagoria tells us to.”

Penthesilea’s eyes narrowed and a bluish fire that looked as if it could melt stone now pointed straight at Persepolis.  She began to ‘pet’ the pouch she held in one hand in much the same way Queen Marseea would rub the Heart of Terra Australis.

“
Really?
”

“Um, yes,” Persepolis mumbled.  He then stood tall and found his princely voice.  “Yes,
really
!”  Next, he looked at Adamarcus and Taharqa.  “Right?”

Penthesilea turned to the open-mouthed Centaurs and threw them a wicked smile.

They now dared say NOTHING!

“Very well then.”  She pocketed the white pouch.  Penthesilea then withdrew two others: one goldenrod with a maroon string, the other black on black.  “Take your pick, Arachna!”

If six creatures in the same room were ever more silent, Evagoria had never seen or heard of it.  Finally, Adamarcus let out a cough – she was pretty sure it was a fake one – and made his way to the side of her bed once more.  His back to the mystic, he knelt on all four knees just as he had done earlier.

“Penthesilea
is
the healer here,” Adamarcus announced as he rolled his eyes at the young witch’s pompous threats.

Evagoria could barely hold in the giggles ready to burst that would have given him away.  Next, he took her hand in his and kissed it.  Maybe he kissed her hand in a way he had never done before, maybe all the spells and potions were messing with her mind, she nearly passed out from his touch.  And this time, Zacharias did growl – LOUD!

Adamarcus leapt up and stumbled back; his rump almost crashed into Penthesilea.  Taharqa and Persepolis both laughed at this, of course.  The witch just looked annoyed.

“T-Tomorrow,” Adamarcus stuttered once he steadied himself, “it will … it will be here s-soon enough so I think it best we do as Penthesilea asks.”

“But, but,” Persepolis babbled.

“Shut up before she gives you eight more legs,” Taharqa warned as he pushed his way toward Evagoria.  He also took her hand in his, but Zacharias’ look just daring him to, did not kiss it.  The three friends then filed out and were gone.

“You too, Zacharias.”

The prince stood tall and set his silvery eyes tinged with gold on Penthesilea.  His chest against the bed, Evagoria could ‘feel’ a growl coming on, but the wily witch easily fended it off.

“If you care for Evagoria,” she pocketed the pouches, “I beg that you do as I ask.  She needs rest and will only get it if left alone.”

“Don’t worry, my friend, I’m not going anywhere,” Evagoria reassured him as she pulled on her silk sheets.  “Penthesilea will see to that.”

“As you wish, Princess,” Zacharias grumbled.  “I will see you in the morning.  Good night.”

He buried his head into her good arm.  Next, he sauntered toward the double doors carved from Kauri wood.  His rump barely past the doorway, Penthesilea followed right behind and slammed the doors behind her.

The night still a good full turn or two earlier than when Evagoria would normally go to sleep, she let out a deep sigh, set her head on her pillow, and stared wide-eyed at the ceiling.

*****

Evagoria awoke with a start.  She then looked all around – her eyes told her she was alone, but she did not feel alone.  Ready to let out her morning yawn as she did every other day of her life, it was not there to greet her.  She stretched, yet every muscle already felt spry and springy.  Pleased at how rested the potions made her feel, Evagoria slid off her bed, removed her still damp tail sack, and glided onto the balcony that extended from her room.

“
Wow …
” Evagoria drawled to her charmed self as she gazed east.  The very top of the sun greeted this drawl.  She now watched in joyous glee as the peaceful orange of dawn melded into the goldenrod glow of early morning.  Evagoria saw the sun set during most dusks, but always slept through daybreak.  Just like her Queen Mother.  Satisfied, she turned around and made her way back into the room.  And then she saw it.…

On one of her two side tables stood a carving made of wood about a hand high.

“I don’t remember
this
!”  Now next to the table where the carving sat, Evagoria picked it up.  “A little panda – how quaint!”

Soft steps heard behind her, Evagoria pushed her flukes into the stone floor and spun around.

“There you are!” she teased, but no one was there.

A freshly picked sunflower, however, now lay atop the
other
side table.  The carving still in hand, Evagoria glided over to this table on the left side of her bed – the sunflower was nearly the size of her head.  She set the carving next to the sunflower’s green stem and ran her fingers along it.

“I think … I have … a stalker,” Evagoria sang with a slow playfulness.

More footsteps heard, then a giggle; Evagoria peeked at the foot of the bed to her right.  Spying eyes of the palest blue peeked back.  Except for these eyes and hair, this ‘intruder’ bearing gifts hid herself behind the finely carved foot of Evagoria’s sleigh bed.  Charmed and beyond curious, she lifted herself onto the bed and pulled her tail beneath her bottom.

Expecting a Centauress youngling – no Mermaid aside from her had blue eyes – a Sapien child revealed herself instead.  This child now took a few steps closer and then stopped.  Evagoria had heard stories of the last Sapien ever born, and guessed that this little girl was that last one, but she had never seen her.

Depressingly disheveled, yet as charming as the stars
– Evagoria could think of no other way to describe what she gazed upon.

The girl’s body looked about that of a six, maybe seven-year-old, but this tiny Sapien was, of course, many times older.  A frail thing, she desperately needed a bath.  Hair that was probably blonde a mussed up disaster, a Gryphon mane had less tangles.  Rags for clothes that could not remember what color they once were draped sloppily across her many bony parts.  But those eyes, those pale blue eyes, they were wondrous, yet hurt in a way Evagoria could not grasp.

“
You
are the Mermaid they all talk about.  The one the males swoon over.  The one the females do not like because you are so pretty.”

This little girl’s voice owned the same squeakiness as that of most younglings, but something was different.  That how she saw their world was learned not willfully, but somehow thrust upon her.  As if she had never been granted the gift of childhood.

“Well, I don’t know many who will swoon over me with
this
on.”  Evagoria lifted up her broken arm swathed in white silk interwoven with silver thread.  “But if what you say about females is true, maybe I will not look so pretty to them anymore and will gain a few more friends.”

The little girl gasped the moment she saw this white silk trimmed in silver.

OH, THAT WAS BRILLIANT, EVAGORIA!

The covering wrapped around her splint was probably nicer than anything this tiny wretch had ever worn.  Embarrassed she had practically shoved this show of wealth in the little one’s face; Evagoria brought her arm back down, shoved it under the blanket, and turned her head away.