Poseidon's Scar Page 11

  “Yes,” she said, flashing Echo a quick, unconscious smile. Then Orithyia, as if remembering the eyes upon her, shook her head slightly and stood up straighter. “General Orithyia, high commander of the armies of New Scythia and the Sword of her Majesties, Queens Marpesia and Lampedo. They granted me leave to greet you all. You must be Princess Echo.”

  Echo could hear the pain in Orithyia’s voice, the tremor she hid with formality. Echo held out her hand, and the general took it. Echo put her left hand over Orithyia’s warmly.

  “Please just call me Echo,” she said. “I’m new to this princess thing, and it makes me feel silly. We’re here to ask for your help, and it is… General, it is my honor to meet you.”

  Orithyia beamed a genuine smile at Echo, then glanced over her shoulder at her son. Echo took a moment to look to her other companions: Yuri looked terrified; Muireann simply taking everything in; but Barnabas watched Echo with blatant admiration. Well done, he said without uttering a sound. Well done.

  “Echo,” Orithyia said. “You are the reason I am looking at my son for the first time in twenty years. For that, I will name you however you please. Please, welcome to New Scythia. I want to hear your story, and discover if we can help you in your quest.”

  Echo watched as Artem’s brow knitted together, pain and confusion on the swordsman’s face.

  But holding his mother’s hand, remembering her own, she’d be damned if she wouldn’t try to fix that somehow.

  Chapter 22: The Queens of the Amazons

  Not for the first time in his life, Yuri felt like an imposter.

  He walked beside Echo as confidently as he could, but that wasn’t saying much. Being here, surrounded by professional warriors, lying about his role, hiding his powers, he had this sinking feeling he could, at any moment, be thrown unceremoniously off the island without warning. Worse, he could feel that anxiety funneling into the strength of the shark in his heart, demanding he transform and fight. The shark was powered by what Yuri wanted to call it pure id, but that wasn’t right. To call it “id” implied it was mindless want. It was fueled, rather, by a relentless desire to survive. And it sensed when he was afraid, and demanded he do something to change that.

  He had a million questions for Echo, and maybe twice as many for Artem, but the former had a look of near-panic on her face as well as she tried to figure out exactly how to pretend she knew how to be Atlantean royalty, and Artem seemed green around the edges, as if he were fighting off waves of nausea. Barnabas kept falling behind, once even evoking a jab of a sword to his backside to keep him moving.

  “It’ll be fine, you know,” Muireann said in her lilting accent. The woman was so quiet the past few days Yuri almost forgot she was there. “We’re where we’re supposed to be.”

  “I think according to tradition, we are exactly where the Amazons don’t want strangers,” Yuri said. “But I appreciate your optimistic outlook.”

  The guards funneled them through another ornate set of doors, opening into a cathedral-like room with a high, domed ceiling painted a gentle greenish blue. Directly across from the doors, set several feet up on a dais, stood a pair of matching thrones.

  Only one was occupied, by a striking woman wearing a traditional metal breastplate over flowing robes of office. She sat calmly there, her white hair a corona of tight curls. Standing beside her, unarmored but wearing a sword on each hip, was another Amazon, her hair pulled back into a short nub of a ponytail.

  The standing Amazon took a step back, giving her companion room to stand. Together, they descended from the dais to meet the group, the white-haired woman taking lead.

  “Look at this menagerie,” she said. “I’d bet on no more than one or two of you truly originating from Atlantis.”

  “You’d be right,” Echo said. “I really am the daughter of King Rhegis of Atlantis, but my mother is human. From the surface. And these are my friends and companions, not Atlantean military.”

  The white-haired Amazon smiled.

  “Honesty is appreciated here, Princess Echo of Atlantis,” she said. “My name is Marpesia, and I share leadership of New Scythia with my sister, Lampedo. I understand your father and aunt currently share rule of Atlantis in a similar fashion.”

  “Are you the real Marpesia and Lampedo?” Muireann asked. The queen eyed the ondine suspiciously.

  “I am real,” she said. “I’m curious what you mean.”

  “There were sisters of the same names in Roman times who were said to co-rule the Amazons,” Muireann said. “They called themselves the daughters of Ares.”

  Lampedo, the younger of the two, grinned.

  “They told us you brought a bodyguard and a magician, but failed to mention you had a historian with you as well,” she said. “We were each named for those Amazon leaders, as you’ll find many of the Amazons are named after our heroes and queens. It was a coincidence we went on to rule.”

  Muireann winked at Echo.

  “I read a lot,” she said.

  “I am so glad we picked her up,” Barnabas said, sounding almost in awe.

  “Do siblings often rule together?” Echo said. “I… well, it’s not the most efficient thing happening in Atlantis right now.”

  “We rarely share rule at all, with a sibling or a spouse,” Marpesia said. “But Lampedo and I very much complete each other’s flaws and see each other’s blind spots, and so we lead together. I don’t imagine it works so well with others.”

  “Well, it’s sort of a work in progress back home,” Echo said sheepishly.

  Yuri noticed that Lampedo in particular kept returning her gaze to Artem, allowing a stealthy glance at Orithyia, who had grown quiet once they entered the chamber. For just a split second he caught a knowing look between the two women, almost like a silent argument, and he averted his eyes as if knowing he’d caught something private he shouldn’t have seen.

  “Who else have you brought before us then, your grace?” Marpesia said, offering the honorarium almost playfully, which brought a smile to Echo’s face. She introduced them all in turn.

  “This is my oldest friend and protector, Yuri. Our history buff is a new member of our crew, the ondine, Muireann. This is…”

  Marpesia stopped her before she could introduce Barnabas.

  “That scoundrel we know already,” she said.

  “You’d think I was some sort of crime lord the way I’m treated around here,” Barnabas said.

  “And of course, this one,” Marpesia said, looking to Artem. Again, Yuri spotted a silent exchange, this time between Lampedo and Marpesia, the two queens wordlessly hashing out a disagreement. The older sister took Artem’s hand. “We should talk before you leave, you and I.”

  Artem nodded, but said nothing. Immediately, Marpesia returned her attention to Echo.

  “So, you’ve come to us for help,” she said.

  “For knowledge. During the recent, um, incident in Atlantis...”

  “Your civil war,” Lampedo said.

  “Yeah, that thing,” Echo said. “We made a bit of noise on the ocean floor and we think we woke something up. Something old. And we were hoping perhaps we could ask your Keepers of Athena if they know anything of Poseidon’s Scar.”

  “I think that’s not an unreasonable request. I’m sure Atlantis would return the favor if ever the Keepers sought knowledge your people might have in their possession.”

  “I am a big fan of information sharing,” Echo said. “Having, y’know, been an actual secret kept from a lot of people myself, I’m not a fan of locking information away.”

  Marpesia raised an amused eyebrow.

  “In that case, I insist we sit down to dinner first and you tell us that story,” she said. “Consider that the fee for use of our library.”

  “How my dad hid me away on the surface? I love telling that story,” Echo said. Yuri couldn’t tell if she were being sarcastic or enthusiastic. Possibly both. “That sounds like a fair trade.”

  “Very well, then,” Marp
esia said. “Orithyia, why don’t you take them to the library to see the Keepers. We’ll continue this conversation after you’ve done your exploring, and hopefully have found your answers.”

  Chapter 23: The Keepers of Athena

  The library of New Scythia was something to behold.

  Protected within the island’s central castle, the structure was a round, domed space, elegantly lit in such a way that it seemed to allow no shadow. The walls were white marble, and each had been carefully carved with floor-to-ceiling recesses for books.

  Barnabas scanned floor to ceiling, all the way to the dome. Not a single empty shelf. Centuries of books, every shape and size, an endless supply of knowledge.

  He kept his promise and stuffed his hands in his pockets, though not before the placed the small, simple spectacles on his face, enabling him to read every language. He thought they might make him look a little more distinguished, too, but the look on the face of the first Keeper they encountered as Orithyia led them into the library removed any hope of that.

  Despite the unhappy look she gave him, she welcomed the others warmly.

  “General,” she said. “I was warned we had guests. Been some time since we’ve had anyone from the outside in the library.”

  “This seems to be a good reason to break the rules,” Orithyia said. “Atlantis has informed us something… emerged from Poseidon’s Scar and they hope we might have some information that could help them.”

  The Keeper, who introduced herself as Sister Clio, sighed in such a way that Barnabas detected a note of judgment.

  “The greatest civilization beneath the ocean, and they still can’t keep their history in order,” Clio said.

  “Hey, I didn’t grow up there,” Echo said. “I have nothing to do with their education system.”

  Clio guided them to an area on the lowest level, where several other Keepers, who had either been instructed ahead of time or had simply overheard the conversation, were already gathering books for them to look through.

  “Poseidon’s Scar,” Clio said. “You know that pre-dates Atlantis and our own history.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Echo said.

  “The name is relatively recent as well,” Clio said, thumbing through one book, then another. “Well, recent in the past few millennia. It had another name before that.”

  “Something’s maw, right?” Barnabas said.

  The librarian tilted her head at him curiously.

  “The Maw of the Old One,” she said. “Where did you hear that?”

  Barnabas considered throwing out a sarcastic answer, but, more because he wanted to get the Keeper on his good side than be polite, answered straight.

  “I used to run a smuggling route that connected with some tribes of fish-men. You know the types, the ones who seemed to hit a stage of evolution and hit a dead end?”

  “Wow, Barnabas,” Yuri muttered.

  “No, I’m not being mean here, Yuri,” Barnabas said. “They stopped at the stone age, live apart from the world, haven’t changed technologically in thousands of years. No science, no magic, no art, really. Just survival.”

  “Still came out harsh, dude,” Yuri said.

  Barnabas shrugged dismissively.

  “Anyway. I dealt with them a bit in my travels, and when we talked trade routes and maps, they referred to Poseidon’s Scar as the Maw, sometimes the Mouth. They didn’t seem afraid of it, though. They thought it was holy. I just figured it was fish-men being superstitious.”

  “The Mouth,” Yuri said. “As in a Hellmouth? Like in Buffy?”

  “Again, I have no point of reference for what you’re talking about,” Barnabas said.

  “Will you get on with it, Barnabas?” Artem said, his voice tight enough it could cut through metal.

  “That’s all I heard about it,” Barnabas said. “I didn’t think anything of it, as I said. Old tribes like that have their own names for everything. It wasn’t unusual.”

  “It is interesting that they considered it sacred ground, though,” Clio said.

  “Why would others call it Poseidon’s Scar, though?” Muireann asked.

  Clio slid a book across the table to Echo, who thumbed through it gently.

  “Like everything, the prevailing religious beliefs at the time flavored the language,” Clio thought. “It looks like a great wound in the floor of the ocean. Myths and stories rose up about a great battle between Poseidon and some older, less rational god, whom Poseidon locked away, swallowing him up in his gullet.”

  “But that implies Poseidon is real,” Echo said.

  “Pick any mythos or pantheon and you’ll find real-world places named after their exploits,” Clio said. “Much of it is just fantasy.”

  “But with some truth to it,” Barnabas said.

  “Exactly,” Clio said. “That book in front of you details a great battle between some dark beast and the lord of the sea. It’s very poetic. Quite entertaining. And most likely a work of fiction.”

  Clio slid another book across the table. Barnabas tried to pick it up, but Artem intervened.

  “That one talks about a being some thought was a god,” Clio said. “And according to what few stories are written about him, he certainly believed it himself.”

  Artem squinted at the book.

  “What language is this?” he said.

  Barnabas deftly removed the book from his hands and began to read.

  “Korthos of Aramaias,” he said. “The Truthbringer, the Dragon’s Son. This guy loved to rack up the melodramatic titles, huh?”

  “He’s a bit of a Herculean figure from a mythology almost no one remembers,” Clio said. “We barely know of it ourselves, as it was gone long before the Amazons became a people, and there was little written about it to begin with. But the strange thing is, we know an immortal being named Korthos existed, though his whereabouts, if he still lives, are a mystery.”

  “Immortals,” Yuri said.

  “I’m a sea spirit. We’re in the land of Amazons. He’s a magician,” Muireann said. “I don’t see how an immortal hero is such a strange thing to believe in.”

  “Hero is giving him more credit than he is perhaps due,” Clio said. “But with all the information we have here, this is strangely the most credible, because of our evidence that Korthos existed. He fought a great monster, one so powerful it thought itself godlike.”

  “So, two arrogant beefcakes who think they’re gods duking it out at the bottom of the sea,” Echo said.

  “Korthos wasn’t alone, of course. He traveled with mighty companions, some of whom fell in battle. And the monster was not alone either. Worshiped as a god, the creature had a massive, powerful cult of amphibious beings at his side.”

  “Did those beings have really sharp teeth?” Yuri asked.

  Clio rolled her eyes at Yuri and then returned her focus to Echo.

  “We do know that during the battle, Korthos used two mighty devices to bind the creature,” she said. “Some sort of javelin or spear called the Needle of the Moon and a magical focus called the Eye of Dreams.”

  “Magical focus?” Yuri asked.

  “Like my gun,” Barnabas said.

  “Please never say that again,” Yuri said.

  “I hate you,” Barnabas said. “But seriously. It’s something that helps a spellcaster intensify and focus their spells.”

  “What did these things do?” Echo asked, ignoring the banter.

  “The Needle, according to the story, enabled Korthos and his companions to weaken this monster, and the Eye put him to sleep,” Clio said.

  “I’m going to work on the assumption that he didn’t put these weapons in a nice, safe, convenient location after the battle,” Yuri said.

  “He lost them,” Clio said. “The stories say that Korthos was a mighty warrior, but also something of an idiot.”

  “So, we just need to find two ancient artifacts that may or may not exist to defeat a creature that may or may not believe it’s a deity,” Echo sai
d. “No problem. Just an average day for us.”

  “I don’t suppose any of these books might give a clue as to where these things might have ended up?” Barnabas said.

  Clio smiled.

  “Oddly enough, Amazonian historians did find out where the Eye ended up,” Clio said.

  “Conveniently available, being used as a paperweight in a museum with low security somewhere, right?” Yuri said.

  Clio gave him a half-hearted but still somewhat judgmental look.

  “It is in the possession of the yacuruna,” she said. “In their Eastern-most city, at the mouth of the Amazon River.”

  “Coincidence? The name thing?” Yuri said.

  “I don’t understand,” Clio said.

  “Never mind,” Yuri said softly.

  Muireann and Barnabas both let out heavy sighs, turned to each other in surprise, started to speak at the same time, and then stopped. Barnabas gestured for Muireann to continue.

  “The cities of the yacuruna are fascinating. I’ve always wanted to see one,” she said. “Not many people return from them though.”

  “Not many people go to them anymore,” Barnabas said. “Like much of the magic in the world these days, they’re dying out.”

  “So perhaps more of a diplomatic mission than a fight for the Eye,” Artem said.

  Orithyia spoke up, sounding concerned.

  “You’re just going to set sail for the city and hope for the best?” she said.

  “It’s what we do,” Artem said. “It’s worked for us so far.”

  “There’s something that might be worth mentioning,” Muireann said, turning to Barnabas for guidance.

  “Be my guest,” he said. “I don’t want to be the one to tell them.”

  “Oh, no,” Echo said. “What is it?”

  “The cities of the yacuruna are, um, upside down,” Muireann said.

  No one spoke for a long series of seconds, as if the conversation stopped so that everyone in the room could ponder the logistics of an upside-down city. Yuri broke the silence, speaking solemnly to Orithyia.