The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  Still, the situation looked grim. The well was here, but the land surrounding it looked dry; it seemed to be a stretch for it to contain any of the supernatural water described in the accounts. And even if it did, Mimir was nowhere to be found to grant any requests.

  “At least Jirin will be pleased he got to stay on the ship now,” Elowyn joked. “Saved himself a big waste of time.”

  “No,” Kazuaki interjected, walking over and placing his hands on the cold stones of the well. He leaned over, staring into the shadowed contents of the structure. He could make out nothing, just a gaping circle of darkness that somehow remained unilluminated despite the sun shining overhead. It mocked him.

  Bermuda placed a hand over her eyes to shield her vision from the sun’s rays, searching for any sign a lesser god lived here. She felt disheartened with each moment that passed. If it wasn’t for Granite’s dog grunting as it spun in circles chasing its tail, it would have been quiet as a cemetery.

  Though he wasn’t eager to give up the dream, Revi remained a realist. He did not want to spend all day wishing for something that didn’t exist; he spent enough time doing that already. “I think it’s a bust, Captain.”

  “No,” Kazuaki repeated, still staring into the jeering darkness that lingered in the well. He relied on this. He needed this. For centuries he was doomed to the nightmare that was immortality, watching the lifetimes of others peak and fall. This was the only shred of hope he had to rid himself of his curse. They could plunder all the riches from all the legends in all the world, but those prizes paled in comparison to the reward this would have been. “No!” he shouted, frustration mounting as the realization settled in. He struck the bricks with a clenched fist. The blows harnessed such intensity the structure cracked under the force, along with the skin on his knuckles. A series of cursing followed as the captain used the well as a personal punching bag, despite the havoc it wreaked on his hands.

  Everyone, even Bermuda, looked alarmed at the sight. Captain Kazuaki Hidataka was always the picture of composure. Even in the heat of battle, Kazuaki’s rage was methodical and calculated. This unhinged madman was a side of the captain none of them witnessed before.

  Kazuaki accosted the well with such unforgiving intensity it looked even worse than it had before. The condition of his hands matched the state of the well, and after unleashing his frustration, he rested his bloody palms on the ledge one last time. The man leaned over the structure, jaw clenched, his brain trying to calculate his next move. Something that came so naturally to the captain was now difficult to tap into.

  The crew exchanged glances that asked one another if they should head back, but nobody made a move. Each was too afraid to upset the captain further. Kazuaki tightened his grip on the well wall. A slither of blood trickled from his broken skin, winding down the interior of the well before disappearing into the darkness. “I was so sure,” he growled, more disappointed in himself than anything else. Until he discovered the legend of Mimir’s well, he always kept a healthy level of skepticism between his ego and any myth. He knew full well the risk it might not exist. He let himself want this one too much to believe for a moment it wasn’t true.

  Kazuaki pulled the book out of his pack, holding it in his hands. The longer it loitered in his palm, the more saturated with blood it became. And the longer Kazuaki stared at it, the angrier he became. “Useless drivel,” he snarled, throwing the soiled book into the well.

  More silence. It was a reoccurring theme since they set foot in this place. Though a rage consumed him that would distract a lesser man, Kazuaki straightened his posture as the book fell into the well. He heard no sound of it bouncing off the walls. He heard no indication it ever hit the ground.

  Bermuda approached him from behind, having drawn the imaginary short straw as to who would try to convince the captain not to linger. “Kazuaki,” she started, voice low, “Do you think we should ...?”

  The captain raised a bloody hand to silence her. “Shh ... listen,” he whispered, eyes drawn to the well.

  Bermuda rubbed the back of her neck but obeyed. She stood in the quiet for a moment before admitting defeat. “I hear nothing.”

  As Bermuda finished her sentence, the darkness inside the well stretched out and over. Kazuaki shoved an arm in front of Bermuda’s body and forced her behind him. The onyx-colored shape looked like one of the gnarled roots as it crawled forth from the ground. It took a second to realize it was a hand, black as night and clutching the blood-stained journal Kazuaki hurled into the well. A creature pulled itself to the surface, a gangly, humanoid beast with eyes that burned like red coals. It sat hunched over, perching clawed feet on the edge of the well. Granite’s dog barked with great fury as the creature flashed a toothy grin. The sharp daggers of white were a stark contrast to the blackness of its body. “I hope you don’t think this counts as your sacrifice,” the creature’s voice echoed as it stroked the bloody book.

  The crew stared, dumbfounded. The fur on the back of the dog’s neck stood on end as its warning barks shifted to protective snarls. Fueled by instinct, Revi drew his knife with one hand and his gun with the other. This only made the creature chuckle.

  “Save your bullets, young man,” Mimir snickered, readjusting as he sat on the well's ledge. “I am no sooner able to issue you unrequested harm as you are able to issue harm unto me.”

  Kazuaki saw limitless things in his lifetime. He developed an innate ability to remain composed in even the strangest of scenarios, save for his explosive episode a moment ago. But even ten more lifetimes of experiences could not keep the captain from gazing at Mimir with an open jaw and a thundering heart. He waited for this for so long. The reality of the moment gripped him and did not let him go. “Mimir,” he uttered, giving a name to the creature.

  Mimir’s grin broadened as he lowered his crouch. “I see that no matter how much time passes, my reputation precedes me.” His red eyes darted back and forth like a lizard, eyeballing the barren surroundings. His face shifted into one of surprise. “And indeed, much time has passed since I last laid eyes on the surface.”

  “You must know why we’re here,” Kazuaki interrupted. Though the genuine surprise of Mimir’s emergence from the well still seized him, the captain shoved those feelings aside. He waited for so long. He did not wish to let another minute pass.

  “The same reason anyone ever comes knocking,” Mimir snorted. He set down the book he held and motioned Kazuaki forward with a curled finger. “There’s a certain air about you, Captain. I should very much enjoy making a deal with you,” he grinned.

  “You’ll be making a deal with all of us,” Bermuda interjected. She was just as eager as Kazuaki to rid herself of her demons.

  Mimir turned to her, unimpressed. “I see.” He sighed. “What can I do for you, fair maiden?”

  “I need you to—” Her voice lowered as she remembered her audience. Kazuaki, Elowyn, Granite, and Revi seemed much closer than she realized. While the captain familiarized himself with her past, the others did not. She hesitated, aware of how weak her problem made her look. Bermuda preferred being seen as the fearless quartermaster; she was not eager to vocalize her vulnerabilities for all to hear.

  Mimir reached out with his thin black fingers, wrapping them around Bermuda’s nearby wrist. It happened so quickly neither she nor Kazuaki had much time to react. The touch granted Mimir supernatural cognizance to her plight. “I see.” He reacted as if she alluded to her desires out loud. “I should have known. I needn’t a touch to know matters of the heart are the second most common reason people seek my well.”

  Bermuda stared at the creature’s crimson eyes, too mesmerized to pull free from his grasp. She wasn’t sure how he knew, but she didn’t care enough to delve into the ‘whys’ of the lesser god’s abilities. “What’s the most common?” she inquired with a whisper.

  Mimir smirked. With his free arm, he cranked the lever to his well, lowering a sorry looking bucket down into the darkness. “Power,” he said t
hrough the squeaks of the rusty crank, “Always power.”

  His answer sent a shiver into her bones. Perhaps it was the way he said it. Bermuda cleared her throat, still finding herself in the demon’s grasp. “So ... can you help me?”

  “I have plucked worse things out of the hearts of men and women than misery,” Mimir started. “When I’m through, not only will thoughts of Ty Aldon no longer plague you, but the sentiment known as love will no longer affect you at all.”

  Bermuda inhaled, as terrified as she was eager. “Well ...” she hesitated for only a moment, “go about it then.”

  “Ah,” Mimir paused, withdrawing his hand around Bermuda’s wrist. The bucket he lowered returned to the surface, dark water sloshing back and forth within it, “but these things come at a cost, you must know. A reciprocation is necessary to feed my existence. Gods are great, but we love our trinkets. What do you offer for an analogous exchange, young lady?”

  Kazuaki stiffened, looking back at the stunned faces of his crew. Something in his gut didn’t feel right. An acid bubbled from deep within, beckoning him to interject. But he could not. In the battle of instinct versus desire, desire won. It had been winning for years.

  Bermuda gave little thought to what she would offer. There wasn’t much she wouldn’t give to rid herself of the pain in her heart. “I ... I don’t know,” she stuttered, finding it uncomfortable to lock eyes with the god for too long.

  Mimir kept his unwavering gaze upon her. “Well,” he reached out and grabbed her left hand in his, “since there will be no room for romance in the heart, you’ll have no need to wear the prison that is a matrimonial band. As such, I doubt you’d miss this much.”

  In all the time she tried to forget the weak heart that dwelled within her, Bermuda could not ignore it now. The prospect of losing her hand made it beat with enormous protest, pounding inside her with such force it was almost as if it tried to escape its fate. Kazuaki interjected before she could reply. "She’s not going to give you her—"

  “I’ll do it,” Bermuda interrupted, stepping in front of Kazuaki to put herself between him and Mimir. “Make it quick,” she added. It was a large sacrifice, but to her, the reward was greater than the loss.

  “Bermuda,” Kazuaki reached out to pull her back toward him, but Mimir pulled her forward first. In the blink of an eye, with Bermuda’s arm outstretched, the blackness of his body grew an extra limb and sliced the hand free from the wrist. It was a clean cut, over in milliseconds.

  In addition to a heaviness Bermuda felt leave her chest, she felt her blood leave her wrist just as quick. Though a surge of adrenaline pumped through her, she fell to her knees and her face paled.

  “Shit!” Elowyn lunged forward and threw open her pack. She withdrew supplies and placed a tourniquet on the arm. After forcing the injured woman to elevate her arm, she removed a blood-clotting powder from her pouch and applied it. It was a useful tool to have around when one ended up in as many showdowns as the criminals aboard Kazuaki’s ship did. But even with her medical background, Elowyn’s supplies out here were limited. There was only so much she could do.

  The situation unfolded so quickly. Kazuaki snarled and reached out to seize the creature by what he guessed was its chest. His fingers sank into the material that made up Mimir’s body as if it were a gelatinous substance. “Fix it!” With all the anger inside him, it was all he could say.

  Mimir stared down at Kazuaki’s hands, watching his body ooze over the captain’s skin and stain them a dark color. The creature dipped his hands into the bucket of water and splashed several droplets onto Bermuda’s body as Elowyn tended to her medical needs. He then met the captain’s eyes with a delightful grin. “There now, I already did,” he retorted, chuckling as he held Bermuda’s hand in his. “When the well water absorbs into her skin, she will have a heart free from the burdens of love, just as she requested.”

  Granite’s dog whimpered, but still walked over to the blood Bermuda spilled and licked it up. Mimir looked over at the mutt with interest, then over to Granite. “I have a lot of human and human-related accessories in my collection,” Mimir began, gazing upon the gnarled black roots that surrounded them. “But I have not yet added a canine. Would you care to trade him to fulfill your bargain?”

  Granite remained steadfast. His expression did not betray his true emotion of concern for Bermuda’s condition, but it illuminated his icy hostility at Mimir’s suggestion. “I do not know how to kill a god,” he said, “but if you touch the dog, I’ll figure it out.” The last man who tried to bring harm to the animal was Granite’s own brother. He found himself at the very unforgiving hand of the family’s butcher knife.

  “Silence, creature,” Kazuaki hissed as Revi and Elowyn pulled Bermuda to her feet, draping her arms over each of their shoulders while keeping her severed wrist elevated. There was so much he wanted to say, to do, but he knew he was powerless in this situation. It was an unfamiliar feeling to Kazuaki Hidataka. Powerlessness. He did not enjoy it. Bermuda entered a verbal, contractual obligation with Mimir. She was severely wounded, but by her own say. He found himself frozen.

  “Why do your eyes cast such hatred upon me, Captain?” The lesser god cocked his head to the side. “I fulfilled her most pressing wish. She is free from the weakness that is the human heart. Now ... wouldn’t you like to be free from something that haunts you as well?”

  Kazuaki had to get Bermuda back to the ship. Mimir’s offer hung over him like a thick cloud, but he released the lesser god from his grasp. He wiped his hands on his long jacket to remove the residue Mimir’s body left on his skin. He was a captain and comrade to Bermuda first and foremost. She needed to be taken somewhere safe. “Get Bermuda back to the ship,” he ordered Granite, Revi, and Elowyn.

  While the three had their own bargains they wished to make, witnessing Bermuda’s experience diluted their desires to proceed. Even if it hadn’t, one did not disobey a direct order from Kazuaki Hidataka. Granite plucked the woman out of Revi and Elowyn’s arms and carried her back in the direction they came. Elowyn and Revi followed, along with the dog who finished cleaning the spilled blood from the rocks. Revi only walked twenty feet away before he turned around, realizing the captain remained locked in a staring contest with Mimir. “Captain?”

  “Go on, Revi—I’ll be along,” he said without turning, knowing Bermuda lived in capable hands.

  “With all due respect, Captain—”

  “I said go,” Kazuaki snapped.

  Revi lingered for a moment before he relented to the captain’s orders. It did not sit right with him to leave the man alone with a god who just severed his crewmate’s hand. But Revi Houton was no stranger to leaving those who needed him. With a tinge of regret that opened his old, mental wounds, he left the man behind.

  “Let’s make this quick,” Kazuaki hissed. “Thanks to you, I have pressing matters that need my attention.”

  “There is no matter so pressing than that of your lifelong problem, Captain,” Mimir said, still clutching Bermuda’s detached hand. “As a lesser god, I am intimately familiar with the problems of immortality. Your life is but a fetus compared to the years I have lived. All that time ... it’s enough to drive someone mad,” he smirked, fiddling with the fingers on Bermuda’s hand. “Especially when you’ve fallen from the memories of the men who made you. But, you, you’re still remembered, aren’t you, Captain? They’ve sung songs of you. They haven’t done as much for me in many, many years.”

  Kazuaki growled. “Get on with it, demon. I’m growing tired of your pointless banter.”

  Mimir sighed. “Yes, yes, eager to rid yourself of that cursed immortality, I know. The ego of man is too great to fully understand how terrible it is unless they’ve endured it themselves. But you know ... to wander through the horrors of this place with no known end in sight, it is a troubling curse, is it not?”

  Kazuaki tried not to look at the severed chunk of flesh that once attached itself to his comrade. Mimir’s babbling was
incessant. The captain suspected it was a tactic to infuriate him, to dull his intelligence by clouding it with rage. It worked. "Just tell me what you want to rid me of it,” he scowled with impatience.

  Mimir grinned. “There was an old saying I’ve always liked. ‘An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.’ I think in this circumstance, Captain, an eye is a very fitting trade. One of the very eyes that had seen one too many decades of existence, yes?” Mimir prattled on like a mad man, ignorant of Kazuaki’s request for urgency. “Man covets immortality, and yet all you see with everlasting eyes is everlasting nightmares.”

  "You’re stalling," Kazuaki accused, growing more agitated by the moment. "Cure me, demon, and be gone with you!"

  “Temper, temper,” Mimir sighed, throwing the detached hand up in the air and catching it in a twisted little game. “Perhaps that’s what you should rid yourself of instead of your immortality, Captain.”

  Kazuaki drew in a measured breath. He knew Mimir played mind games with him. He needed to clear his head, but something was maddening about the creature’s presence that eliminated his wits. The ethereal aura the lesser god emitted was vexatious. “I do not wish to remove my temper,” he murmured. “Take the eye, whatever you want, just release me from the nightmare that binds me to this earth.”

  Mimir leaned back, satisfied with Kazuaki’s word choice. “As you wish, Captain.”