Free The Gift From Poseidon: When Gods Walked Among Us (Volume 2) by J. A. Ginegaw

Viracocha had heard many tales of how Simonacles was just the opposite once inside it.
    “Carolinica is almost seventeen and practically a grown Centauress!” Alexander declared – he was a few months past eighteen.  “And just so you know, she shares my affections with an equal vigor.”  He leaned close to the wall between them and shot Viracocha a smirk.  “ If not greater! ”
    Viracocha snarled and whacked his shield against the separating wall once more.  As much as he hated Alexander for his relationship with his sister, he despised his wealth even more.  More to the point, how this strait-laced sissy never flaunted it.  On the day his grandfather became the Centaur historian, Viracocha’s family at last joined the nobility.  Alexander’s family had never known anything but.  Owners of a sprawling home atop the choicest point in the heart of Lacanesia, the masses had no clue as to their exact amount of riches.  Some believed they were barely the wealthiest family, others swore they owned many times more than the next richest.  So many in awe of such wealth, Alexander acted as if he could not care less.
    And just what gave this delinquent the right to do so?
    The teams now stood at massive doors that would soon open to announce their entry into the arena.  This opening to the playing pitch was at the stadium’s northeast corner.  The verbally sparring Centaurs made their way close to the front of their respective teams and the players now waited for the doors to open.
    “Once out there,” Viracocha growled, “I’m going to hit you with such fury, I’m going to knock so much manhood out of you, that forever after you will swear to the world your name is Alexan – dra !”
    Above them, the electrifying anticipation of the season’s first Harpastum game rocked the stadium.  Despite such loud cheers on the other side of the doors that led to the playing field, Viracocha could hear those charged with opening these doors fumble noisily with the clanking locks.
    “This is your last chance,” Xavier barked, “you better walk on home, little colt!”
    Eyes that danced with bloodlust peered at Alexander and the crazed Gryphon’s mouth foamed as if expecting the warm, uncooked flesh Sapiens had forever denied his kind to partake.  As Viracocha flashed a wide grin at this, Xavier pressed his massive head up against the wooden slits that divided the teams.
    “Oh, no, he won’t be walking home – not a chance!” Viracocha sneered.  “ This colt is going to exit the arena as a gelding stuffed inside a funerary wrapping!”  He stared down Alexander with the wicked glare of an enraged bull ready to charge.
    Every creature within earshot cheered Viracocha on and howled in laughter one final time.  The doors suddenly open, each team streamed through them.  Once past the entryway, Viracocha scooped up a lump of hardened dirt from the playing surface and flung it at Alexander; to his shock, Alexander caught it in midair and shot a spiteful look back.  He then wagged an outstretched finger from side to side with his free hand as he dropped the crushed dirt clump.  Viracocha spat at the ground.  Messages sent, Alexander joined his polished bronze teammates at the western end of the playing field.  Viracocha and the blackened bronze team already close to it, they made their way to the field’s eastern end.
    *****
    As the respective teams stretched, chanted, and did whatever else necessary to prepare, others continued to entertain the rowdy crowd.  Skilled jugglers, clueless clowns, axe throwing and archery contests, giant panda tricks, playful mayhem; all drew both cheers and jeers.
    Viracocha pulled himself away from his teammates and watched as Xavier inspected the goal box.  No Gryphon player on either team could fly apart from one – the protector.  Xavier’s duty would be to guard the five diamond-shaped goals raised at least three pike lengths above the playing surface.  The other five