Poseidon’s Fury (aka Dorian)

“Who dares upend the god of the sea?” And my voice is thunderous, violent and full of rage. I raise my trident and issue a shout into utter darkness. This will not end well for whomever is playing games here – and if it’s any of you gods, you will not leave Olympus alive. 

“Don’t slow the ship, Notus,” I call, stroking strongly in its wash.

I’ll catch it up. Meanwhile, I have an ocean to subdue. The whirlpool surrounds me in the blackest night, dragging and pulling. It’s all I can do to slow its spinning. I’m dizzy and angry and ready to spin half the world’s waters back, but I feel something – a force, a power – very definitely working against my own control over the seas. Oceanus? Nereus?  I have no idea, but they cannot hope to win. They will only succeed in amplifying my rage.

Just so you mortals know, angry seas never end well. You have so many names for this; tsunami, hurricane, cyclone – but they are all just pseudonyms for Poseidon’s Fury.

Another message strikes in sharp relief across the night sky, a message I do not quite understand. Dorian.

“Who in Hades is ‘Dorian’?” I murmur.

Notus has not breath to reply. 

Indeed, the words I hear are Zeus’ now.

Hurricane. Tyche. Bahamas. STOP THIS.

A vibration threatens far, far to the South this time. Strong, powerful – and poorly done. Oh, so poorly done. As though a kid stole his dad’s ship and cannot steer it. Borrowed a little power and cannot wield it.

The first thing to do is define the problem. Define the – hurricane. My temper swirls all around me. 

Is it you, brother? Zeus again.

I message him back a furious negative. 

Of course it isn’t me! 

I’ve been far too focused on locating my Oceanid to send such curses among the mortals. These games are for younger gods now.

Zeus is not placated so easily. It feels like you. 

I have to admit that it does, in part, feel like something I created. 

I leap back up on deck, recalling Notus to form.

“Yes, my lord?” Kneeling, sheened in sweat, he breathes in and out like a pair of bellows. A winded wind – and a hurricane is a wind.

“Who is doing this, Notus?” I ask and it is no gentle inquiry. “Which of the Anemoi is behind this?”

Notus shuffles his feet, doing his best to become air again. I strike my trident once on the solid wood deck. Gold tentacles rise from the sea, brilliantly bright against the night sky. Reaching up and onto the deck, my bonds hold him fast until he is pinned against the Arctic dark and all alone with me and my rage. I watch the boy tremble; even my ship shudders.

I glare and grow until I am my full, terrible height. 

Even Eos cannot help her son now. Dawn may cover all the sky, but she cannot reach the Arctic yet. Not at this time of year. The night lasts longer than my patience, and there is no hope for those who try it.

“WHAT?” I thunder at the kid, and clouds whirl around my head. Seas rise and waves grow larger, louder in concert with the rumbling from the sky. “Who in Hades released a hurricane on my watch?”

Notus swallows, staring at his pseudo-mortal feet. “I have not seen my brother, Eurus, for some time. No one has. Not even the Keeper of the Winds.”

“Eurus?” The East Wind goes missing, and a hurricane unleashes in the Bahamas. 

Oh, Ares, have I got a case for you…

Hurricane. Tyche. Bahamas. BROTHER! Zeus will not accept silence. Tyche must be caught up in this. If the goddess of fortune goes down, we may as well all pack it in! 

BROTHER! I shout at Zeus inside my head now. Brother, I swear it – this IS NOT ME. I will steer this travesty away from Tyche. I do not know who did this. Not yet. But I will. Tell her she can bet on that!

I grow more and more furiously angry. Hurricane Dorian spins faster as my temper rises – and it is Notus who feels this before I do. Notus and my sea creatures. As the golden beast releases him, he falls forward, kneeling once more.

“My Lord, your fury.” His eyes remain downcast, but I hear him. Even as I raise my trident and roar with a wrath the world has not heard for aeons, his voice teases my ear again.

“Your rage is Dorian, my Lord.” And my creature thumps its giant tentacles on deck as though it, too, demands I master myself; find some control. I breathe deeply, clenching and unclenching my fists. Standing naked on deck, I glare up at the sky. Darkness, shimmering with countless stars. Silence, except for the music only I can hear. 

Below, I feel the slow spinning of the poorly-done whirlpool. Using this as my guide, I stare at Nyx, breathing calm into my rage. 

In. Count to three. Out. Count to three. In…the whirlpool gives a lurch. That damn – the sea spins faster. I slow my breath. Calm my temper. The waters beneath the hull become mere ripples once again.

So, this is a manipulation. An attempt to harness Poseidon’s Fury. I swallow and unclench my fists. I will not grow angry. I will master my rage.

And I will NOT become a tool to be used at the whim of another god!

Lightning again; my brother is listening.

I breathe out. I breathe in. I breathe out.

I check in with Zeus: Tyche? 

Safe. Well done, brother.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.

Her casino?

An image reaches me: devastation everywhere. The roof ripped off and Tyche crying. Rising death tolls and properties under water. Mortals wailing and broken. People in pain. I close my eyes at this vile vision willing myself to calm. I open them, and speak a vow out loud into the silence of the night.

Gods! “Someone, somewhere will pay for this mess.”
Understood, brother.

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Poseidon (Clyve Rose)
Clyve Rose is an historical romance fiction author, and eroticologist. With an interest in mythology and the old ways, Clyve writes to bring the gods back to us.
Poseidon (Clyve Rose)

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