The Gift From Poseidon: When Gods Walked Among Us (Volume 2) (47 page)

Marseea threw each torch to where the floor met the wall on both her left and her right.  The next moment, twin rivers of flame rushed away from them and now lit their way.  Three silhouettes at the end of this hall slowly came into view and Marseea marched toward them.  The Mermaids, Gryphons, and Laigria – unwillingly, of course – followed just behind.

“As you requested,” Komnena said curtly.  Her eyes still red and swollen, despite this, she held her chin defiantly high.

Marseea looked eagerly upon Penthesilea.  As for Melanippe – not so much.  The elder twin really had no place here, but Marseea did not need to tell Komnena this.  A deep grunt made it obvious that her look was enough.

“Congratulations are in order, Penthesilea, but as we have no time to spare, celebrations must wait.”

The young witch did not display her usual confidence, but did not seem hesitant either.  Wondrous and cautiously excited was the best way to describe Penthesilea.

“Is it true, my queen?” Penthesilea asked breathlessly.  “You are going to let me read from the Elysiakeia?”

Marseea offered her prized pupil a thin grin and the young witch’s blue eyes lit up.  “To your heart’s content, young one.  To your heart’s content.”

Penthesilea returned Marseea’s grin, but Komnena’s fresh tears and darting eyes made it obvious that she did not share in such glee.

In the flickering light, they could all see a door.  On each side of this door about waist high was a white marble block as large as a Gryphon’s head embedded in the black granite that made up the hall and its floor.  The door was not just any door and certainly did not appear as if it were.  There were no handles, no keyhole, and no knocker to disturb a queen often hard at work on the other side.  Perfectly smooth and so highly polished it would have blinded them all if just a single sunbeam could reach it,
this
door was made of pure silver.  And not of the always solid kind.

Marseea moved toward the marble block on the right side of the door and Penthesilea took her place on the other side.  Next, both whispered a spell and placed their right hand on a marble block.  The sounds heard first – much like water trickling in a stream – gave those watching a hint of what was to come, but would not make it any less unbelievable.  As if fire burned all around them that they could neither see nor feel, the silver door slowly melted away.  Both marble blocks now turned just as silver and shiny as the door had been.

“
Wow
,” Evagoria drawled once on the other side of the open doorway.  As if just awakening from a dream, she shook her head; a confused look now replaced her awed one.  She turned to Penthesilea.  “But what if one of you dies?  How would the one who still lives then open this enchanted door?”

Penthesilea chuckled at this silly question and wiggled her fingers on the right hand she now held up.  “Who says the hand must be of the living when it touches the stone?”

Evagoria frowned and appeared embarrassed to have asked.

“I thought it was a good question,” Melanippe said as she followed Komnena and Evagoria into the cavernous room.  Melanippe then turned around and shot a not-so-friendly look at her sister.  “We don’t all have such depraved minds, Penth!”

“I think the word you are looking for is
gifted
,” Marseea said proudly.  “Everyone follow Komnena and Melanippe through the doorway.”

She and Penthesilea stayed in the hall while the Mermaids and Gryphons did as told.  Wondrous sights their eyes now beheld to keep questioning minds busy for the moment, Marseea pulled the young mystic close.

“Penelope about to leave our world, Laigria will have to follow.  If we adhere to the spells and curses of the Elysiakeia – with proper caution and prejudice, of course – we just may be able to bring the Mermaid back.”

Penthesilea looked uneasily past Marseea.  Following her gaze, they both watched as Mermaid guards dragged Laigria – bound, but still squirming – through the first room and into the second.  Once they removed the binding ropes and tied her down to an inclined bed, Marseea again refocused on the young witch.  Penthesilea’s eyes darting about, after a few moments, their gazes met again.

“I am no murderer, my queen.”

“Fret not, child,” Marseea said softly.  In a motherly way, she then set her left hand against the right side of Penthesilea’s face.  “You tending to Penelope, I to Laigria – such a burden will not be hoisted upon your shoulders on this day.”

Marseea’s hand withdrawn, her motherly tone went with it.

“But I do give fair warning, Penthesilea: As for those days yet to come, I guarantee nothing.  To gaze into the Elysiakeia, to run your fingers upon its golden plates and read its incantations is to agree to wield a great power that cares nothing for your misgivings.  Yet you must follow through, nonetheless.  Without conditions. 
Every time
.  You do understand this, yes?”

Penthesilea gritted her teeth and took in a deep breath.  After nearly a century of wielding magic, she was so close.

Just once, was it possible?  Just once, could such a talented sorceress resist?

“I do, my queen.  I do.  And I accept its demands unconditionally.”

Marseea let out a smirk.  One last precaution suddenly swept into her mind and she pulled Penthesilea even closer.

“The Elysiakeia will call upon you to encase Penelope in ice.  When you do this, you must provide for a layer of water between the ice and the Mermaid.  This is crucial and
must
be done.  Do I make myself clear?”

“But if Penelope will be d ––”

“Is
this
how you thank your mistress for allowing you to access the Elysiakeia, Penthesilea?” Marseea jammed a finger into the girl’s chest.  “By protesting what I bid you to do?”

The right amount of fear and resolve came across Penthesilea’s face.  She tipped her head low, but kept her eyes on Marseea.

“No, my queen, it is not.  I will protest no more and do all that you command.  Unconditionally –
every time
.”

Pleased with Penthesilea’s remorse, Marseea nudged her through the doorway.  The darkest spells of the deadliest nature to feign the exchange of an exiting soul for a lively one craving their arrival….

This queen could keep the hoax of the millennium waiting no longer.

But two mystics who still live capable of more than basic sleeping potions, what my disbelieving eyes gawk at is why Mother so respects them.  Sapiens such a wretched species, yet to be capable of THIS!  Debauchery on the grandest scale, a miracle no god would ever dare try – is it one, the other, or somehow both?  My mind numb as I watch the impossible: Is this real or am I somehow trapped inside the twisted nightmare of a hopelessly deranged another?

– Evagoria, Mermaid Princess

– Late Summer, Year 4,254 KT
[46]

Where Queen Marseea and Penthesilea tested their spells and brewed healing potions looked to Evagoria to be more of a torture chamber than anything else.

What a dark and dreary place for such gifts to come from.

At least the black granite in the grand atrium and most of the palace halls had a smidge of white marble here and there to break up the gloom.  Nothing of the sort existed here.  The two interconnected rooms did not allow even a single speck of sunlight to peek in.  In the first room, hundreds of potions and pouches lined the Kauri wood shelves; Evagoria saw no tables or codices.  Marseea and Penthesilea now worked busily before a crude bench at the rear of this first room.  Off by herself, Evagoria peered into the second room.

Oh, how convenient!

A pair of oversized beds rested in the middle of this second room.  Each had enough straps and tie downs to hold even the strongest Mermaid or Sapien.  Or in this case, the condemned swine guards had forcibly pinned down and tied to the bed at Evagoria’s right.  It was impossible Evagoria told herself, yet she could not shake it from her mind:

Had the Witch Queen somehow foreseen the future and prepared for this whole scenario?

Two massive codices – one with a black cover, the other glacier white – rested on a stone pedestal at each end of the room.  A dozen or so torches spread evenly between the rooms supplied the only light.

“Diedrika!” Marseea called.  Her mother coming alongside the wily witch, Evagoria snuck behind them and listened close.

“Have your guards set Penelope on the other bed.”  Marseea then stopped her preparations and looked behind her.  “Although she appears weak,” she said in barely more than a whisper, “have them tie her down well.  When dealing with the greedy grip of the Grim, ‘tis best to hold tight.”

Diedrika off to do as told, Marseea resumed disemboweling some poor creature as Evagoria watched intently.

Every time Penthesilea finished mixing a potion or measured just the right amount of whatever it was that made up a pouch of enchanted dust and set it aside, with a sigh, a snicker, or both, Marseea would then change or add something else to the potion or pouch.  Perhaps she did this because Penthesilea was young and inexperienced, maybe it was for some other reason, Evagoria did not know.  After doing this with two flasks of potions and a gold colored pouch, Marseea finally voiced her frustration.

“I will handle the rest of the potions and pouches, Penthesilea.  Water is required.”  Marseea swung around and surveyed the room.  “Ahurum!”  She pointed to the proud Gryphon who, along with Zacharias, appeared calmer than the rest of them.  “Take the cart into the gardens and with Penthesilea retrieve at least six large buckets of water.”

Ahuram immediately went to strap himself up to the cart he had carried Penelope in, but the young witch hesitated.  Marseea’s narrowed eyes finally chasing Penthesilea and her wounded pout away, Melanippe followed behind her sister like a lost dire wolf puppy.

Through all this, Laigria continued to squeal like the pig she was; to this point, Marseea’s spell that had earlier shut her up showed no signs of wearing off.  Penelope’s whimpers and soft cries growing sharper, more desperate, Diedrika made her way toward Marseea.

“Are we ready to get started?” Diedrika asked anxiously.  “Penelope squirms and screams in agony!  Her pretty blue hue has now turned a ghastly grey.”

“Keep in mind what we are attempting to do,” Marseea returned dryly.  “Penelope and Laigria soon to be dead, one with a bit of luck brought back – we only get one chance.”  She pointed to her left at the five pouches and four flasks filled with potion.  “Considering this, I think it best we take our time and get it right.”

Her mother at her side, Evagoria continued to watch nervously.  Preparations finished with the sixth and final pouch – Marseea spun around.  A glint of victory sparkled in her eyes and she threw up her bloodied hands coated in enchanted dust as if expecting applause.  All she received were worried looks, but this did not seem to dampen her enthusiasm one bit.  Evagoria just shook her head.

Everyone else worried sick for their sweet Penelope, the Witch Queen appeared to be enjoying this morbid scene as if the opening act of a grand performance!

Marseea motioned for Komnena to approach.  A flask filled with cloudy red potion thrust into the historian’s hand, Marseea pocketed a white pouch, gathered two more pouches – one dark crimson, one black – and then marched in the direction of the second room.  Evagoria and the others eagerly followed.

The potion and two pouches set atop a table next to the strapped down swine, Marseea looked at her and grinned.  Unable to speak, Laigria could still spit and did so right in the queen’s face.

But that grin stayed steady!

Marseea calmly wiped her face and then withdrew from her robes the most handsome dagger Evagoria had ever seen.  Its curved blade gleamed as if reflecting the rays of the sun forever kept out of the room.  Lined with encrusted jewels, its handle appeared even more marvelous than the blade.

“Oh, Laigria,” Marseea said with a hint of syrupy sympathy as she held up the dagger, “now I am just going to have to make it hurt even more.”

Just as the Witch Queen turned away from Laigria’s increasingly desperate squeals, Penthesilea returned.  While Melanippe helped Ahuram maneuver the cart filled with buckets of water, Penthesilea rushed to rejoin Marseea in the first room.  After a few moments, the witches returned and Marseea took her place next to Laigria.  Penthesilea set a flask filled with silver potion and two pouches close to Penelope.  Melanippe in tow, she placed two clear colored potions next to the silver one.  Having not left Penelope’s side throughout, Hezekiah rested his head at the foot of her bed.

Evagoria’s mind weighed down by many more questions than answers, she glided alongside the one Mermaid who knew more about the mystics than any other: Cassiopeia.  Her great-grandmother appeared worried like the rest of them, but a curious glint in her eyes suggested she was intrigued as well.  In her light green stola and cream palla, she looked much too festive compared to the darker colors worn by everyone else.  Evagoria leaned in and wrapped her arms around Cassiopeia’s right arm.

“Tell me about the codices, Great-grandmother.  One with a wooden white cover, the other pitch black, is one for good, the other for evil?”

“When it comes to Sapiens, Evagoria, it is never so simple.”  Cassiopeia pointed to the black codex next to Marseea.  “The Elysiakeia
is
a book of curses and the darkest spells, but whether it speaks of evil or not depends on your point of view.”  She then pointed to the white codex next to Penthesilea.  “The Svargakeia, a book of quaint enchantments and charms, Laigria would be overjoyed if the mystics read from that one, but of what good would it do our sweet Penelope?”

“You and Marseea spoke of an exchange of souls,” Evagoria said carefully after a pause.  “This confuses me, Great-grandmother.  Will Laigria’s soul become a part of Penelope and then Penelope’s soul is taken by Hades?”

“Not exactly,” Cassiopeia answered with a chuckle.  “If what you describe was the case, our sweet Penelope would then be no different from the pig – and who wants that?”

For the first time since morning, Evagoria let out a smile, albeit a weak one.  Evagoria knew Cassiopeia liked to show off her knowledge, and she never tried to hide it.  Not even now.

“Remember what your mother said about the gods: They crave to be awed.  Our time is measured, always over before we wish it to be, yet they have all the time in the world.  And because of this, when we desperately try to earn just a little more time as we are trying to do for Penelope, such an attempt intrigues them.

“Hades knows he will get every soul in the end, so
if
we put forth enough effort,
if
we awe him enough, perhaps he will be so kind as to allow Laigria’s soul to pass through the Gates instead of Penelope’s.  In the end, he simply requires a single soul, and just maybe we can convince him to overlook which one enters his lair. 
This
is how Penelope can cheat death.”

“So the exchange of souls happens not here, but at the Gates of the Underworld?”  Evagoria believed she was starting to understand, but just wanted to make sure.

“Penelope, now on the edge of death, her soul prepares to depart.  The potions given, spells spoken, and hexed dust sprinkled upon them both, Laigria will soon meet her end as well.  But it is not her time to die.  Two souls at the Gates, Hades can take only one.”

“And just what would make the Grim choose one soul over the other?”  Evagoria begged after another squeeze of Cassiopeia’s arm.

“This Laigria is a vile woman.  Her soul no doubt crippled and blackened, unlike Penelope’s, it will weigh heavily on the ‘Scale of Good, Evil, and Indifference’.  Mellivoros stricken with ravenous hunger only a steady diet of wicked souls can keep at bay; let us hope that, along with the spells pleading with Hades to spare her, his shadowy badger takes a liking to the heartless soul of the swine and thus allows Penelope’s soul to return to her body.”

All watched intently as Marseea and Penthesilea began.  Potions came first, but the witches gave them in very different ways.  With Hezekiah’s help, Penelope drank her silver potion slowly, but willingly.  Laigria on the other hand – not a chance.

One guard pulling her hair from behind, the other holding her mouth open with some crude metal instrument, Marseea dumped the red potion down the swine’s throat.  After a flurry of choking, hacking, and gagging, every drop of the potion was finally gone.  Despite her bindings, Laigria now shook wildly.

A sharp howl shot out of Penelope’s increasingly lifeless lips and all eyes focused on the writhing historian.  As if her skin was melting, rivers of purple veins that looked like they could burst at any moment fought to escape the clammy shell struggling to keep them in.

“The potion is not working,” Penthesilea called out.  “Penelope is fading.”

“Actually, Penthesilea, the potion
is
working.  Just as intended
.
”  Marseea met Diedrika’s confused glare.  “We cannot bring a soul back from the Underworld if it is not already there.  The potion given to her has but one purpose: Make the trip a little smoother.”

Queen Marseea now made her way to Penelope’s side.

“Help me,” Penelope gasped.  “
Help … me….
”

Tears began to stream down Evagoria’s face as she watched these whispered pleas.  She now looked in the pig’s direction.

The hate that tortured her day after day, night after night, had finally found a purpose!

She moved her palms close.  Her broken arm still in its splint, Evagoria did not care how much it hurt to separate her palms as slowly as needed to bronze-make a proper weapon.  A dagger much like Marseea’s forming in her mind, but a scraping glow needed to create it, a thrust of her tail into the stone floor to spring in Laigria’s direction, a swift stab straight into ––

“You have the right idea, young one,” Cassiopeia said as she pushed Evagoria’s palms away from each other, “but it is not you who speaks the spells.”  She nodded in Marseea’s direction.  “Patience the sharpest sword one can wield now, it will not be long before the Grim unsheathes his own.”

From a dark green pouch withdrawn from her robes, Penthesilea sprinkled a handful of yellow-green colored dust in a straight line atop Penelope’s silk dressings.  Upon speaking a short spell, two halves split from each other and the silk that had encased Penelope dropped to the floor.  The young mystic then cut away what silk still covered the now exposed wounds.  As Penelope screamed in pain and fresh blood seeped out, Marseea stroked her hair and looked into her eyes.  These caring touches seemed to soothe Penelope, and she now only whimpered.

“This is the end for you, Penelope.  Prepare for a new beginning.”  These chilling words spoken in the warmest manner, Marseea rushed back to the Elysiakeia Codex.  Within an arms length of it, she tossed enchanted dust atop its black as pitch cover, and it immediately flipped open to reveal script upon its gold plates.

Although every torch suddenly blew out, the sudden lack of light did not engulf the room in complete darkness.  Stealing just enough of the dark so Evagoria could still see everyone, from inside the book, a column of bluish-white light stretched to the ceiling.

Hezekiah left Penelope’s side and joined his fellow Gryphons.  Done consciously or not, the Mermaids had grouped themselves to the left side of the room while the Gryphons now did the same – behind Marseea – on the right side.

The Witch Queen spun around, dipped a hand in the dark crimson pouch, and shot a look at Penthesilea who then plunged her hand into a silver pouch.

“It’s dying time!” Marseea crowed far too happily.  She pulled bloodied dust from her pouch and threw it toward the center of the room.  Penthesilea did the same.  They then did this thrice more.  Metallic dust that smelled as if death was closing in on them now floating all around, Marseea stood before the Elysiakeia Codex, raised her hands high, and announced the first spell:

“A cherished soul cleansed by your

mercy, a murderer bathed in blame,

Two gifts soon headed for the Gates,

but one to be devoured by shame,