The Panagea Tales Box Set

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The Panagea Tales Box Set Page 28

by McKenzie Austin


  Granite nodded and looked down at his mongrel, who tired itself out with merciless running about the main deck. The beast curled up in a tight ball and slumbered at its master’s feet. It would be nice, he thought, to encourage a place where animals roamed free again.

  Revi looked at them all with a shrug. “It’ll be nice to do something you can be proud of, for a change ...” Though he directed his words at them, they knew he spoke of himself. A chaotic, last-ditch attempt at doing the right thing was what Revi Houton needed. After a series of bad decisions, abandoning his wife, his kids, he yearned for something to clear his conscience. Something that brought him one step closer to personal redemption. Perhaps, if he succeeded, wherever the Houton children were, he could make a better world for them. He’d like for them to see good days. Gods knew they didn’t have many when he and Arabella lived together, and he couldn’t imagine they got much better after he left. They deserved a shot at something greater than they’d known.

  “Oi, I was always proud of what we did,” Brack said as he looked at Revi. “We found a shit-ton of legends under Captain Hidataka’s guidance, eh?” His face beamed with pride at the memories and he laughed. “You all recall that time we found Pandora’s jar, and Captain told us not to open it?”

  Iani joined in the laughter, so amused he almost spit out his drink. “And then you feckin’ dropped it and it shattered to pieces, yes, I remember!”

  Even Elowyn chuckled at the humorous memory. “That’s right. He didn’t want us to open it because it ‘contained evils untold of’,” she said, her fingers curling into air quotes while she mocked the captain’s choice of words.

  A small smirk crossed Revi’s lips. “I thought he was going to kill you, Rabbit. You all remember what he said after you dropped it?”

  Rennington stood out of his chair and mimicked Kazuaki with a baritone voice, “Ah well, the world’s already full of evil. I suppose a little more won’t hurt it.”

  “Almost shit myself,” Brack said. He wiped a tear from his eye as he busted a gut. “I don’t know what put him in a good humor, but I dodged a bullet that night, I did.”

  Even Granite harbored a small smirk on his face as the crew remembered the moment with fondness. The laughter died down as the seven members sat at the table. Many more memories existed similar to Pandora’s jar. Good ones, unpleasant ones, and everything in between. They had been with each other through more blood, sweat, and tears than they remembered. Though injuries slowed them down, or death separated them, or disappointments arose when certain myths and legends didn’t pan out to be truthful, they always counted on one another to be there. And at the forefront of each exploit was Captain Kazuaki Hidataka, leading them every step of the way.

  “I’d take a bullet for that guy,” Iani said, breaking the silence as he leaned back in his chair.

  Rennington scoffed and smirked. “Then he’d call you an idiot, seeing as how he can’t feckin’ die.” Though his words were sarcastic, he gave a short nod afterward. “But I know what you mean.”

  “He could die,” Elowyn corrected Rennington, “if he uses that eye of his.”

  The crew fell quiet again. Imagining a world without the captain in it was strange. They all grew accustomed to his immortality, but Elowyn was right—he could die. It was why he erred on the side of caution and put the plate over his socket. They knew the captain lamented having his chance for a noble death taken away, but they also knew he lamented spending his afterlife in Mimir’s well more.

  “Captain’s been good to us,” Granite said, surprising everyone at the table, as he always coursed through an entire day without saying more than three words. The behemoth looked at each one of them and raised his glass for a formal salute. “To Kazuaki.”

  Everyone nodded and raised their glasses. “To Kazuaki,” they repeated in unison before each threw their respective drinks into the backs of their throats. The empty glasses were all turned upside down and placed on the table as Umbriel sauntered into the room.

  “Good evening all,” she smiled, sitting beside Granite. “How has the day treated you?”

  A quick collection of pleasantries filtered through the group. Though rare, everyone took an immediate liking to Umbriel. Kazuaki and Bermuda entered the room after the Earth Mother arrived.

  Umbriel found Bermuda’s eyes across the room, curious if the quartermaster remained angry with her for ridding her heart of Mimir’s influence. Bermuda caught her looking and flashed a small, forgiving smile. It was enough for Umbriel to relax her shoulders as she melted into her chair.

  “I’m looking forward to what Penn has cooking in there,” Bermuda said as she breathed in the scents wafting from the galley into the dining hall.

  The group shot their heads toward her, a look of absolute puzzlement on their faces. There was emotion in her voice and pleasantness in her words. It was something none of them heard for years, but in their skepticism, they said nothing. Bermuda noticed as it was obvious. She rubbed the back of her neck, an awkward feeling creeping through her. “Gods, have I been all that bad that it’s weird to compliment the chef?” she asked, looking back and forth between them.

  “Umbriel’s kindness and skill have rid our quartermaster of Mimir’s poison,” Kazuaki explained as he pulled two dusty bottles out from the deep interior pockets of his long jacket. The rare bottles from his personal stash. “I dare say it’s worthy of a celebration.”

  The crew sounded, delirious in their merriment as they stood from their chairs to pat Bermuda on the back. She felt vulnerable being the center of attention but handled it well with pleasant nods and gratitude.

  “Thank you, everyone.” The quartermaster felt relief after the wave of celebration calmed down. “You have my apologies if I treated any of you poorly in my state.”

  “Just glad to have you back,” Elowyn replied, holding out her glass as Kazuaki popped the cork from one of his bottles. “It’s been too long.”

  The captain poured a glass for everyone, setting one aside for Penn. As he performed his rounds about the table, he paused. Someone was missing. A small look of dissatisfaction appeared on his face. “Where’s Nico?”

  “Probably still working on whatever the feck he was doing in the storage room,” Rennington said as he returned to his seat to sample the beverage Kazuaki poured.

  At that moment, Penn pushed the swinging door open with his back, turning around to unveil the first of many platters he prepared. The stewed meat's scent made everyone’s mouths water as he placed the tray on the table. He looked proud as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. “Take a bowl,” he motioned to the empty vessels on the serving platter. “I got sautéed veg coming out too, and some vanilla bean-soaked apples with nuts for after.”

  As everyone lusted over the food, Nicholai crept into the room. He went unnoticed as the boisterous group celebrated Bermuda’s freedom and Penn’s meal. It wasn’t until after everyone helped themselves to a heaping bowl of Penn’s stew did he clear his throat to get their attention.

  Kazuaki shot a glance at Nicholai and narrowed his eye. He noticed the Time Father cradled something in his hands, but could not tell what it was. “What do you have there, Nico?”

  “Right, well,” Nicholai lifted it to allow everyone a better view. “I, uh ... found some parts in the storage room. I built a few working machines in my day back in Southeastern, and ... I noticed you had a lot of useful components down there,” he trailed off, unsure why he felt awkward. Perhaps it was all the eyes on him. “Anyway,” he crossed the distance over to Bermuda and presented it to her. “You won’t offend me if you don’t want it, but ...”

  The quartermaster looked at the object, confused. It was clearly a hand, with five discernable digits, though they were all made of various metal pieces and gears. She took it from his hands and turned it over. Each of the intricate pieces worked together in a way that allowed for a full range of motion. The fingers bent at the natural joints with ease, lubricat
ed and smooth. Various tones of brass, bronze, and steel spread over the invention, with a fastening device near the artificial hand’s wrist to allow her to strap it to her stump and fasten it as tight as she needed. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, unsure of whether to find offense or gratefulness.

  “I was limited to what was available,” Nicholai explained as he pointed out different parts on the mechanical hand. “Improving technology was something many people in Panagea pursued, myself included. Particularly concerning new machinery. I limited myself mostly to clockwork, but I experimented with brain control interfaces at a few of my conventions. It’s not just decorative; it has the potential to restore movement, to respond to your cues.”

  Bermuda’s eyes lit up as she tore her stare away from the hand and searched Nicholai’s face. “Restore movement?” Hope lingered in her voice.

  Nicholai nodded. “Biotechnology and neural engineering are still far from being mastered, but the science reminds me of a machine’s ‘brain’. Unfortunately, I can put the components together to fashion a functioning unit, but,” he frowned, disappointed with his limited knowledge, “I don’t know a lot about the human body. It’s capable of being a fully functioning hand, but—I haven’t figured out how to link it to the nervous system.”

  Umbriel sat up in her chair with excitement. “I could help with that.”

  Bermuda flushed, overwhelmed by the attention again. “Umbriel, you ... you’ve already done—”

  “Not nearly enough,” Umbriel stood from her chair and moved over to Bermuda. She took the hand out of Bermuda’s grasp and fastened it to her wrist. “You plucked me from that island after hundreds of years. You're ushering me to Panagea so I might save her and honor my departed companions. I'm grateful you’re helping me fulfill my purpose. This is the least I could do.”

  Bermuda stared at the device strapped to her wrist. It felt heavy, but she said nothing as Umbriel laid her hands on her wrist. “It may take a moment,” she said. “I’m still drained from our last session.”

  The group watched in awe as Umbriel closed her eyes. With one hand on Bermuda’s head and the other on her spine, the Earth Mother manipulated the cells in the axons and fibers that made up the quartermaster’s nervous system. It differed from a plant, but Umbriel mastered her abilities, which only grew in success with the centuries she possessed them. The room fell silent for a full minute. When the tip of Bermuda’s index finger on her artificial hand twitched, everyone jumped back.

  “Hot damn!” Brack leaned forward to get a closer inspection. “Did you do that?” he asked, looking at Bermuda.

  “I—I think so,” the quartermaster breathed. She stared at her new hand with incredible disbelief. She dared to move another finger. It twitched again.

  When Umbriel dropped her hands, she appeared exhausted and slid into the open seat nearest Bermuda. “It’ll take getting used to,” she explained as she rubbed at her eyes. “But I know you’ll come around to it in no time.”

  Bermuda stared at the hand. She tried a third time to move the tip of her index finger. The metal digit flexed at her command and she gasped, unable to reel in her disbelief. “Thank you,” she whispered after tearing her enlightened eyes away from her hand to find Umbriel and Nicholai. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe this. Thank you.”

  Kazuaki watched the scene unfold with his own series of heavy disbelief. He turned to Nicholai, who accepted Bermuda’s words. The captain looked down at the glass of wine in his hands. He walked over to the Time Father and held the priceless merlot out to the man, a silent offering.

  Nicholai turned with a start and looked down at the glass. He shifted his attention back to Kazuaki’s face and accepted the wine with hesitation. “Thank you, Captain, but I don’t—” He paused. The Time Father did not drink, but he also did not want to offend Kazuaki. It was the grandest gesture the man made to him in all the time he knew him and he didn’t wish to sully it. “I don’t deserve it,” he finished. “I was just ... I thought it would help.”

  Kazuaki reached over to the bottle and poured another glass for himself. Without saying a thing, he tapped his glass against Nicholai’s in a quiet salute, took a long drink, and returned to his seat.

  The Time Father looked down at the crimson liquid in his hands. It took many hours to build the hand. He did not skip a single detail. It cost him precious time studying his book, searching for answers for Lilac, but he tempered his guilt with the validation that Lilac would be proud. Though she remained frozen in Southeastern, he carried her spirit with him everywhere. To give a missing piece back to Bermuda, it was something she, herself, would have done, had she possessed the ability. Moments like this were one of the few ways he kept her alive.

  Gods, he missed her.

  Kazuaki inclined his chin and stood tall before his crew. He raised a glass high into the air. “I have traveled the lands and seas of this world for much longer than I care to count,” he said as he gazed at each individual seated at the dining table. “While the time I served with all of you has been short compared to the life I’ve lived so far, they have, without a doubt, been the best years of my life. It has been an honor and a privilege. I want you all to know that.”

  The crew of Kazuaki’s ship nodded and raised their glasses in the final of many salutes throughout the evening. “We’ll drink to that,” Bartholomew said, speaking for the collective.

  “That’s it then. Drink up, ladies and gentlemen,” Kazuaki sipped a long, thoughtful drink from his precious wine. He lowered the glass back to the table and grinned, a maniacal look about him. “Tomorrow, we go to war.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Leaving the ship was like leaving a lover or a child. Kazuaki slid his hands across the rough railing as he traipsed along the main deck. He didn’t flinch when the splinters in the aging material stabbed at the calloused skin of his fingers. He knew he had to leave her, but distanced himself from the reality until they came into Southern’s reach. It was far too dangerous to drop anchor within sight of land. He positioned her in the same spot he did previously when he neared Southern’s coast. But this time, he knew he would not be staying with her.

  Kazuaki sighed and stopped to rest his palms on the old surfaces of the ship. His hand lingered on a tall mast that reached into the bleeding colors of the sunrise. It was a rare occasion he left her. Even in the infrequent instances that he craved the touch of land, he left the ship for only a day, too accustomed to the familiarity of the sea to venture far from it. But the captain knew in his heart this adventure would keep him from her for much longer than usual. It was for the best. He needed to adapt.

  Penn stood beside the captain. He waited patiently. He knew the reason Kazuaki called him forward, and he didn't want to rush him. Penn recognized it was a difficult departure, even for the stone heart of Captain Hidataka.

  The ship adopted a sentient nature to Kazuaki. She became a fixture of his identity. She remained as much a legend as he became over the years. The care he put into her showed despite her age. A wooden vessel having endured a lifetime as long as he had was a feat. He never let only a single pair of eyes keep watch over her unless it was himself, but today that would have to be the reality. He needed every hand he could take for their vast undertaking. His blood ran cold at the thought. But even the greatest of relationships needed to experience a goodbye now and again. Kazuaki told himself he’d see her later, though he recognized it may not be for a while.

  “You’ll have more than enough supplies to keep yourself stable,” he said to Penn as he stopped to undo a knot that did not fit his standards. After retying it to his satisfaction, he turned to the cook. “Are you sure you’ll be fine here by yourself?”

  Penn flashed the captain a grin. He was not a jovial man by nature, and so the expression appeared odd on his face, but he knew this moment came with difficulty for Kazuaki and he wanted to put him at ease. “Story of my life, Captain. I’ll do all right.” In all truth, Penn found relie
f he escaped the inevitable hand-to-hand combat the rest of the crew would endure. Though he sent his heart with each one, he wasn’t skilled with weaponry. His efforts would be much more useful tending the ship than engaging in a revolution.

  “Good man,” Kazuaki patted him on the shoulder. He knew Penn could handle it. He trusted him. The ship sat far enough away from prying eyes that the cook would be safe, but logic did not banish all the captain’s apprehension. Apprehension, however, never stopped Kazuaki Hidataka from doing what was required.

  The captain ripped himself away from the mast and traversed the distance over to the ship’s ledge. After gazing down at the cockboat and seeing everyone settled inside it, he looked once more at Penn. “Godsspeed,” he said before he gave the solitary man a quick nod. Kazuaki grabbed a loose rope and lowered himself halfway down before he jumped the rest of the way.

  The boat rocked as the captain leaped into it, but it did not faze the inhabitants. Nicholai tried not to appear vexed as Granite’s dog wagged its tail in his face, but as the cockboat rolled toward the shores with the manpower of those who rowed, Brack voiced his concern.

  “Are you sure we should bring the beast?” he asked.

  The dog’s tongue lolled out the side of its muzzle, unfazed by Brack’s words.

  “It’s unavoidable,” Revi said. “Granite goes nowhere without him.”

  Granite nodded as he rowed, his powerful strokes bringing them closer to the shore with each concentrated effort. Revi was right. No matter the danger, the beast was there for his master, and the master was there for his beast.

  A thick mist settled over the land, obscuring everyone’s vision as the cockboat approached the coast. They quieted as it neared land. They exited silently as the bottom of the boat scraped against the rocks of the shore. Granite hauled the small craft farther up onto the sands and stone, positioning it in the same spot the getaway boat they ransacked many weeks prior had hidden.

 

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