The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  “It’s so hard to see,” Umbriel admitted as she trudged up the misty shores to approach Avadon’s edge. The remnants of the crumbling catacombs remained as they left them. It seemed no efforts ensued to clean up the mess. She walked ahead of the rest, stopping once she gained enough height. White flakes of ash floated in the air, settling on and around her as she stared into the expansive scenery. Panagea differed greatly from how she left it. Many buildings established themselves since she last walked this earth, but they suffered as much as the land did in her absence.

  Seeing through the thick fog was difficult, but what was discernable was heartbreaking. Smoldering wreckage, likely still coming off a fresh disaster, lingered in the distance. The toxic smell of smoke wafted from burning fires, comingling with the mist coming off the waters. It created a distressing curtain of dystopia that covered the city.

  Somewhere in the distance, hidden by the translucent haze, she heard people shouting as they tried to put out the blazes. The Earth Mother raised an arm to shield her eyes from the suffocating smog that clung to the air. It was much worse than she imagined. Though she felt the pains Panagea experienced even from her far-off island, she never prepared herself for the decrepit world that awaited her. It was a far cry from the one she left hundreds of years ago.

  “Oh, Panagea,” she stared at the remnants of the failing city, “what have they done to you?” Umbriel could not stop her eyes from glossing over with tears. Only a select few escaped her eyes and slid down her cheeks, but she quickly wiped them away. The Earth Mother returned. She could fix this, she thought. She had to.

  The crew joined her side and stared at the chaos. Nicholai looked horrified. The earth deteriorated so much in the short time he was gone. It made his blood run weak. The Time Father could not deny the hand he played in this. It was undeniable Panagea had been failing for some time, but Southeastern’s halt expedited this horrid aftermath. It was the first time the true gravity of his crime weighed on him. All the guilt and regret he held prior paled compared to seeing it with his own eyes. He thought he had more time to figure things out for Lilac, for Southeastern, but seeing Panagea now, like this ...

  He had been dead wrong.

  “This is what we’re fighting for?” Brack asked, unimpressed. He shook his head and reached into his pocket to be sure he had his oxygen syringe. The way the environment presented itself, he assumed he’d need one handy.

  “Sure is,” Kazuaki replied, his voice flat. Even the captain was surprised by the wretched state, but he refused to show it. “It’ll be too obvious if we enter in a large group. Iani will take Elowyn, Brack, and Bartholomew. Rennington will take Granite and Revi. Nicholai will take Umbriel, Bermuda, and myself.”

  Rennington nodded and turned to his brother. “You remember how to get to the abandoned industrial plant we saw last time we were here?”

  Iani bobbed his head. He recalled the building rested near an alleyway they took refuge in before they plundered Avadon. Before they ran into Nicholai. “Near the market, Nico,” he said as he turned to the Time Father. “Down by the church. You know of it?”

  Nicholai struggled to recall that far back, but after prying the old memories from his brain, he nodded. “Yes, I think I know of it,” he said with confidence, having remembered the way the wind howled through the broken windows in one of the many nights he took refuge in Avadon. It seemed like a distant memory now, thinking to a time before he met Kazuaki and his crew.

  “All right then,” Rennington said, motioning his group forward. The thickness of the fog did not deter him. No matter how long he stayed away, this place became one town he knew like the back of his hand. “Off we go.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  The three teams arrived at the crumbling industrial plant with little fuss. The streets of Avadon were in such a sorry state, the public had much more to worry about than the new faces who traveled into their borders. There had been a surprisingly small amount of footmen, much less than anyone expected. The streets themselves appeared ghostly, with nothing more than the haunting vocals of the morning church choir fading from the cathedral walls. It was an unsettling sound, emphasized only by the defeated looks on the faces of the few townsfolk they encountered.

  The steel door creaked in protest as Kazuaki pushed it open. He led the last of the three groups to enter the failed industrial plant. Nicholai crept inside when the space allowed for it and looked around at the familiar interior. It had been a water purification plant, much like those he established all over Southeastern. Why Darjal left it to rot confused him. The rusted tanks inside showed visible damage. Natural disasters, he guessed. He did not know why Darjal wouldn’t put the time and effort into fixing the space with how vital they were.

  Nicholai frowned. It was likely if a disaster occurred in this area, any extra funding went into the church's restoration. Darjal loved his pristine cathedrals. Almost as much as he loved himself.

  Though broken glass and rusted chunks of metal littered the floors, it appeared much of the factory's components were stripped. Steel beams and other various metal pieces that should have been there were missing. It was almost as if the larger pieces of metal were harvested for something else. For what, he did not know.

  “This will work,” Umbriel said as she knelt to an exposed piece of earth. Large chunks of the metal flooring were missing, leaving the rocky terrain below exposed. She reached into the pockets of the pants Elowyn gifted her and sprinkled seeds she reaped from her island into small holes she dug in the ground. It required much less of her energy to grow existing seeds than to make her own.

  The crew watched in silence as Umbriel’s hands hovered over the earth. None of them knew much about plants. Doubt lingered in their minds that anything could grow in such rocky, depleted soil. But despite their lack of faith, a multitude of tiny, green sprouts soon poked out of the terrain.

  “The first plant Panagea has seen in many years,” Bartholomew said. He walked over and stared in awe as the little seedlings crawled upward. “It’s incredible.”

  Nicholai watched. He knew Bartholomew’s statement wasn’t true. Malcolm Finn produced several plants in his greenhouse but he did not care to correct the scholar. Instead, he stood and thought about how much Lilac would have loved to see this.

  “Nicholai,” Umbriel said from her place on the ground. She looked up at him with a smile, “it’s time for your first lesson.”

  The Time Father blinked and looked at the rest of the crew as they surrounded him. “Really?” He felt burdened with all the eyes on him. Though he hesitated, he convinced himself to kneel beside Umbriel. “I ... have no idea where to even start,” he admitted.

  “You’ll get there.” She took his hands and positioned them over the seedlings. “A’ronn told me he channeled his focus, almost like he was walking down a narrow hallway. Pretend nothing exists to your left or your right. The only thing that exists at this moment are these plants.” She gazed down at the frail seedlings with pride. “I will hold your hand. Don’t worry, I won’t let go. Any years you give to these plants, I will give right back to you.”

  Nicholai frowned, unconvinced. “All right. Here goes nothing.” He gave his best effort to direct his focus to the plants.

  A large silence followed with no results. Brack made a face and fidgeted in his boredom. “Is it supposed to take this long?” he wondered out loud.

  “He’s not going to get it right away,” Elowyn said as she loomed over Nicholai with a curious, watchful stare.

  “He’s probably not concentrating enough,” Bartholomew offered.

  Brack grinned. “He should pretend it’s a woman. That always helps me concentrate.”

  “He should—”

  “He’s standing right here,” Nicholai muttered.

  Kazuaki motioned for the crew to follow him over to a decaying vat. “Leave him be for now,” he instructed. “I have plans for two of you.”

  They followed him as ordered, gathering around the lar
ge, corroded tank with interest. Kazuaki scanned the group, trying to make the best choice. He lifted his finger and pointed to Revi. “You will go to the market, posing as a traveler. Your back story can be as in-depth as you deem necessary.” He reached into his pocket and tossed a small satchel of coins at the man. “Gather whatever information you can about what’s happened since we were last here. A lot has changed. The lack of footmen is disconcerting. I want to know where those bastards are.”

  Revi nodded as he slipped the satchel of coins into his pocket. “Yes, Captain.”

  “You,” he pointed at Elowyn. “You will pose as his wife, lover, what have you. People look harder at strange, single men appearing out of nowhere than they would at an unassuming man and wife. Should things get rough, you’ll have an extra set of hands to wield an extra set of weapons.”

  Elowyn scoffed. She was always the ‘wife’. She tried not to take it to heart. Kazuaki sent her because she not only possessed the physique to play the unassuming wife, she also possessed the skill to slay any obstacles who made the mistake of getting in her way. Elowyn’s raw medical knowledge made her a fierce opponent. One expert pop with a knife to the carotid artery made short work of anyone and she knew just where to find it, along with many other Achille’s heels in the human body. “Yes, Captain.”

  While Revi did not enjoy the role-play, having mixed emotional baggage regarding wives, he forced himself to fall in line. “Come along, dear,” he muttered as he hauled the loud, steel door open and slipped outside.

  Rennington watched them go with visible frustration. “Why didn’t you send one of us, Captain? We know this place like the backs of our hands.”

  “Which is the problem,” he replied, removing one of his many guns to inspect it. “The risk is too great that someone will recognize one of you. Revi and Elowyn are more than capable and twice as easy to overlook.”

  Rennington accepted it for the logic it held though he wished it had been him to go. Watching Nicholai loom over those tiny plants with no success in growing them made him aware that time would tick by slower in here than it did in Southeastern.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  A morning cold clung to the air. The chilling atmosphere of ash, coal dust, and smog infecting the sky sent a chill up Elowyn’s spine. She shivered as she walked alongside Revi, but brushed off the inconvenient feeling as best as she could. The people who walked the streets with them walked like the living dead, drudging forward with somber, expressionless faces. Each one tried to get through their day with no additional stresses. It was one of the most depressing things the medic had ever seen.

  “Looks like the market’s up ahead,” Revi mumbled as he readjusted the cloak he wore over his shoulders.

  The pair lingered into the business center. It was a disturbing sight. What Rennington and Iani once described as a bustling center of activity was barren. A series of unkempt infrastructures lined the street ahead, but for every one that appeared operational, there were four to five that sat dormant, unattended, and abandoned.

  “This place gives me the creeps,” Elowyn murmured as they walked into the market. The pair searched for a business they could make a purchase from that might also lead to useful information.

  “There,” Revi motioned to a garment peddler with a nod of his head. He extended his arm without emotion so Elowyn could weave her arm into his. They presented themselves as a couple as they approached the stand. “Excuse me, fine sir,” Revi said, trying to sound dignified, “as you can see, my wife is in dire need of some clothing. She’s been reduced to these sorry rags.”

  Elowyn clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to punch Revi as he motioned to the clothing she always wore. “Yes,” she said with a forced smile. She slid her other hand up Revi’s arm and discreetly pinched the delicate skin of his inner bicep. “Anything you have would be wonderful.”

  Revi remained steadfast as her strong fingers clamped down on his tender skin. It took all of his willpower; the burning pain that emanated from it was sharp. He kept his composure through the pinch and reminded himself not to offend Elowyn, for she fought dirty.

  The peddler straightened up, surprised to see someone near his store, let alone interested in buying something. “Right, yes, sure,” he scrambled to find something suitable for Elowyn to wear. As he rummaged through some garments, he tried to keep the only two customers he’d seen in days close by engaging in conversation. “Sorry to hear your garments suffered so much,” he said, glancing at the various holes and torn threads in the piece Elowyn wore.

  The woman feigned another smile through pursed, irritated lips. “You are sweet to say so.”

  Revi tried to stifle his amused grin while the peddler returned with a surcoat. He laid it over his arm to show off the details. “This piece is handcrafted with durable materials, it’ll survive the conditions we’ve experienced as of late. You could try it on if you assure me you won’t run off with it,” he added with a dim laugh.

  Elowyn reached over to grab the surcoat, looking it over with care. Revi gazed down before he turned back to the peddler. “We’d never be so bold as to steal anything,” he replied with a charm Elowyn didn’t know he was capable of. With a smooth grin, he added, “I’m sure we wouldn’t get very far before Avadon’s footmen apprehended us.”

  The peddler scoffed, keeping a sharp eye on the surcoat as Elowyn handled it. “That’s a laugh,” he muttered as he crossed his arms. “Footmen are sparse around here. Have been for weeks. You two aren’t from around here, are you?”

  Without hesitation, Revi nodded. “You’ve got a keen eye, my good man. We came in from Southwestern, seeking refuge.”

  The peddler laughed, but the sound was not one of joy. It was sad and filled with pity. “Then I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place, stranger. I find it hard to believe things in Southwestern are as terrible as they are here.”

  As Elowyn pretended to fawn over the surcoat, Revi kept the conversation going. “Pray tell, if things have gotten so poorly around here, why would they disband your footmen? One would think they’d want to keep the peace. We all know the military does that better than anyone.” The words were like poison on his tongue, but they spilled out of him with dutiful necessity.

  The peddler shrugged. “Feck if I know the truth. Darjal Wessex made no formal announcements about it. Word on the wind is they were all sent to Southeastern’s borders. I heard about a small band of men and women who ventured out that way a week ago. Rumor has it they couldn’t even travel close to Southeastern before military descended on them and forced them to turn back the way they came.”

  “You don’t say? Well, Carlo Angevin isn’t much better, he's tight-lipped about the goings-on, that one,” Revi turned to Elowyn. He tried to break up the conversation to avoid coming across as suspicious. “What do you think, darling? Should we get the surcoat?”

  Elowyn looked up, having eavesdropped on their conversation the entire time. Figuring the peddler would open up more if they bought some of his wares, she nodded. “I would love it very much.”

  Revi glanced to the peddler, a faux, inquisitive look about him. “How much for the surcoat, friend?”

  The man appeared nervous. Revi knew he was desperate to name a high price, as he needed the money, but feared naming a price so high it would scare away his potential customers. “Th ... three hundred,” he stuttered, trying and failing to appear confident in his reply.

  Revi pulled out the satchel Kazuaki gave him. He knew there was more than enough there. The captain hoarded currency as he hoarded just about everything, but he put on a show, pretending to count out the individual denominations of each coin. “I don’t know, love,” he said as he stared at the money in his hands. Purposeful hesitation ensued as he shuffled the metal disks around with his finger.

  “Two hundred eighty,” the peddler interjected, “it’s a steal at that.”

  Revi looked up and allowed a slow smile to cross his face. This man needed the money. Revi surmised he ha
d a family to feed. If anyone understood the mountain of pressure that accompanied fatherhood, it was Revi Houton. Perhaps the sale would cause this man one less sleepless night and feed his children’s bellies. “We’ll take it.” He handed him the money.

  The peddler let out a huge breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Thank you, sir, it’s a great piece, your wife will love it.”

  Elowyn smiled and folded the surcoat over her arm. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

  “No, no, thank you,” the peddler replied, directing his words to Revi. “This’ll keep us out of the slums for another week at least.”

  Revi arched an inquisitive brow. “The slums, you say?”

  “Aye,” the man nodded, a look of pity crossed his face. “The slums: where all the poverty-stricken dwell now. Families forced there by homelessness brought on by the disasters or just the inability to pay their dues. I’d give my right arm to avoid bringing my children there. Crime rates are high enough as it is in town with nearly all the footmen gone. I shudder to think of how chaotic the slums are.”

  Revi narrowed his eyes, absorbing the information to relay it to the captain later. “Does Darjal Wessex not send aid to those who suffer? From what I understood, he had more than enough in his church coffers, let alone the taxes he collects—”

  “You really are out of your division,” the peddler replied with another dingy chuckle. “No money left for aid. Darjal poured all the division’s finances into constructing that ridiculous ship.”

  Both Revi and Elowyn couldn’t contain their surprise. They stared at the business owner with alarm. “Ship?” Revi asked, trying to erase any shock he portrayed by injecting calm into his voice.

  “Yeah, a big metal waste of money,” the peddler spat. “They said it was for colonizing other islands, but with all the damn cannons on that thing, I can’t say I’d want to set foot in any world that ironclad had a hand in building. Darjal had engineers from all divisions enter Southern’s borders to help in the construction.” The man tilted his head. A new air of caution surrounded him. “I’m surprised you didn’t know. From what I heard, Carlo Angevin was a big supporter of its construction.”