The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  The last footman standing did not have much time to react before Granite ran him through. The point of his blade pierced his lung. He withdrew it as the man’s failing body slumped to the floor. Still suffering from his laryngeal fracture, the third gasped for oxygen as he looked up at Granite with pleading eyes.

  “Please,” Umbriel unlatched Nicholai’s shoulder and took two shaky steps toward Granite, “leave him be. He is no threat.”

  Granite paused. After a moment of consideration, he grabbed Umbriel and threw her over his shoulder. He hoisted Nicholai up after, hauling both parties out of the crumbling cathedral walls and into the open streets of Avadon.

  The rumbling below the land ended, but the scene it left behind was an absolute horror. Confused people littered the blood-soaked streets, calling out for loved ones lost in the chaos. Nicholai summoned the energy to look up long enough to see Kazuaki and the crew, coated in crimson red and black ash. The captain found Granite and tried to walk over without alarm, but he harbored anxiety at seeing the two individuals in their haggard condition.

  One by one, the crew regrouped. Bermuda, Elowyn, Brack, Bartholomew, Rennington, Iani, and Revi joined the others. Emont followed suit soon after. “Brack,” Nicholai breathed, coughing through his relieved smile, “you’re okay.”

  The man looked worse for wear, sporting a new series of blood-caked wounds, but he smiled. “Wish I could say the same for you, mate. You look like something that crawled out of the Underworld.”

  Nicholai grimaced as Granite set him down. “At least I’m not in the Underworld.”

  “Don’t speak too soon,” Rennington gazed around the decrepit remnants that surrounded them. Only a handful of buildings within eyesight survived the onslaught.

  “Impressive,” Kazuaki said, motioning to the redwood tree that towered out of the church. “We knew exactly where to find you after you pulled that little stunt.”

  Iani nodded, looking to the decay that surrounded them. Dead footmen cluttered the ground. Those who survived fled. The church looked desecrated, replaced by a grand symbol of everything they fought for. The factory walls around the greenhouses fell away, exposing their secrets. Though the streets remained peppered with frenzy, the young Platts brother felt something he hadn’t in a long time: hope. “Does that mean we won?” he asked.

  The others looked to the captain. He knew they had not slaughtered all the footmen. Some likely fled to bordering cities. “Celebrate our small victory while we can,” Kazuaki murmured as he cleaned the blade of his weapon. “We’re in the thick of it now. Darjal will be upon us at any moment.”

  Chapter Twenty

  A terrifying silence claimed the air. Darjal sat at his ornate desk, his eyes glazed over. His mind wandered far from the walls that contained his physical body. His palms laid flat on his desk, fingers splayed, pressing down with unnatural pressure as his shoulders and arms stiffened. The man lived in such stillness he looked as if he wasn’t breathing. The Time Father’s reaction showcased so strong a strangeness it made the soldier in front of him cringe.

  “My Lord?” he uttered, unable to handle the eerie stillness any longer. “Did you hear what I said?”

  Life shot back into Darjal’s eyes and he flicked his gaze to the footman. The soldier arrived fresh from the events in Avadon. He made his way to Darjal’s home town as fast as his feet and the nearest steam train could carry him. He described it all: the Nicholai sighting, Kazuaki’s slaughter of the soldiers, the strange woman’s presence, his church's desecration, the plants that dominated the abandoned factories’ interiors. The messenger left no precious detail unmentioned.

  “Yes,” the Southern Time Father murmured, his fingers curled inward as he balled his hands into tight fists. “I heard you loud and clear.”

  “What do you wish to do, Lord Wessex?”

  The man eased back in his chair and tried to lower his mounting blood pressure. He rubbed the sides of his temples, hoping it banished the migraine that assaulted his brain. “Send word to the other divisions. The other Time Fathers,” he instructed. “Then send word to the elected official of Guress in the Northeastern division. If Jernal remains on schedule that will be his next stop. Detail in the letter he is to journey to Southern as fast as the waters will take him.”

  “Yes, sir,” the footman replied. “Anything else?”

  “Yes,” the Southern Time Father sat up in his chair. “Ready whatever footmen we can. I’m taking them to Avadon to deal with Nicholai Addihein myself.”

  The soldier frowned. “Forgive me if I speak out of turn, your Grace, but wouldn’t you be much safer here? Avadon is in dire straits. I feel the rebellion on the wind. I can get a competent commander to lead the militia into battle—”

  “No,” Darjal’s blood boiled in his veins. “Nicholai destroyed one of my beautiful churches, a place where I exist for the people of Southern outside my home town. If he is turning the people of Avadon against us, then like the mighty smite the non-believers, I will see to it the entire town watches as I rip out his sinful heart. I will make an example out of him and drive the people back on the righteous path.”

  A heavy pause followed as the footman forced himself to nod. He did not agree with the Time Father placing himself in a vulnerable position. Not after he witnessed Kazuaki Hidataka’s merciless battle tactics. But Darjal Wessex’s ego was grand; it had to be, to believe he was a god. The soldier knew no chance existed in changing his mind. “Yes, sir,” he replied. “I’m uncertain how many men we will gather. Many still patrol Southeastern’s borders, we placed a large number on the ironclad, and we suffered a heavy blow in Avadon. But I’ll let you know as soon as we have a suitable army assembled.”

  “Off with you then,” Darjal flicked his wrist. The soldier departed, relieved to create distance between himself and the Southern Time Father.

  Darjal’s heart thudded from deep within his chest. Victory was within their grasp. Nicholai made his location known. It was only a matter of time now. To be the one who brought down the traitor would not only showcase his godliness, but he would go down in history as the savior of Panagea. The people would witness his ability to cleanse the world of the sinful. He laced his fingers together and leaned forward, his expression one of sadistic excitement. “I’m coming for you, Nicholai Addihein,” he muttered to himself. “May you beg me to have mercy on your soul.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  The discord amongst the people was palpable. Those from the slums poured into the heart of Avadon, causing even greater pandemonium amongst the citizens. They thought of the poverty-stricken as filth who brought nothing but theft and assault along with them. The men and women of the lawless land saw the footmen’s bodies as a victory and reflected it in their excited state. But the corpses seemed like a bad omen to the townsfolk, now having no protection from the horrid conditions in which they lived. Confusion and panic clung to the air. It fueled the already fragile environment.

  “The people are scared,” Bartholomew announced as he looked to Kazuaki. “We need to calm them, or word will spread that our presence brings chaos instead of composure.”

  Emont showed his agreement. “They’ve been left in the dark for so long,” he said, “Darjal has fed us one lie after another. First about the state of Southeastern, then with the ship. They need to know what’s going on.”

  Bartholomew peered at Nicholai from behind his glasses. “You need to expose the goings-on, Nicholai. Tell them everything. It’s our best shot at reaching them.”

  The Time Father didn’t have much time to recover from his endeavor in the church. He looked nothing like a diplomatic convoy who could usher the people into an understanding state. “I wouldn’t know what to say,” he breathed as he forced himself to sit up.

  “The truth,” Bartholomew replied bluntly. He motioned to a tall pile of rubble that lingered in the city center. “Get up there. They need to hear it. The sooner they know we’re a positive influence, the sooner this revolution can get th
e people behind it.”

  The Time Father stared at the crumbling debris the scholar intended to serve as his soapbox. Bartholomew was right. The people lived in the shadows long enough. He dragged his tired body forward, forcing one foot after the other until he climbed the heap of garbage and raised his hands to gather attention.

  “People—” He doubled over in a coughing fit. His heart thudded as he tried to steady his breathing. The man’s body remained ravaged from the growth of the redwood tree.

  Kazuaki reached into his pocket and took several long strides over to Nicholai before he injected him with an oxygen syringe. The Time Father’s coughing slowed, and he straightened himself up. His breathing returned to normal, and he patted the captain’s shoulder in a silent gesture of thanks. Nicholai turned to the scared citizens and invited a deep breath into his lungs.

  “People of Avadon—”

  The residents’ panic was too great. Only a few stopped to look at him. Kazuaki frowned, irritated. “Steady yourselves!” he shouted, his loud voice cut through the air with the power of cannon fire. More stopped and turned. “Listen to what this man has to say,” he growled and stepped aside, allowing Nicholai to continue.

  The Time Father cleared his throat as a small crowd gathered. Everyone lived in desperation, hungry for direction. Though the confusion in their faces plagued him, he carried on. “I know you all must be scared. I’m here to shed light on the anarchy you’ve endured. No lies,” he said as he stared out at the growing audience, “just truth.”

  “How can we trust you?” a random voice shot forth from the crowd.

  Nicholai nodded. “You raise a valid point. I know about what I speak. About the state of Panagea. About everything.” He pulled his Chronometer from his shirt and held it up near his neck. “I know because I am Nicholai Addihein, Time Father of the Southeastern division.”

  The energy shift was tangible. A series of whispers grew, weaving in and out of the mouths of many as the gathering gained more citizens. Questions fired at Nicholai from the terrified men and women, but only a few were discernable amongst the many.

  “Is Southeastern frozen?”

  “What was the ship really for?”

  “What is causing all these disasters?”

  “Where did that thing in the church come from?”

  Nicholai held up his hands to silence the onslaught of questions. “Please, people, please—” He lost them. He looked to Kazuaki for answers. The captain met his gaze and nodded to the crowd, a silent order for him to regain control. Nicholai frowned and gazed out at the pandemonium before he stood taller. “Silence!” he shouted with an authority he didn’t know he possessed. It gathered a reaction. The voice’s quieted. He had their attention again.

  “I regret to inform you all that Southeastern is, indeed, frozen in time. It has been for months.” He tried to remain authoritative though evidence of shame lived in his tone. “Panagea has been in dire straits for years, but this has certainly expedited the frequency of the natural disasters deteriorating the continent.”

  “What are you waiting for then?” an angry voice yelled from the crowd. “Go unfreeze Southeastern and save us from this nightmare!”

  Nicholai winced but remained strong. “Southeastern’s state is only another blow given to an already dying earth,” he explained. “Unfreezing the division would only delay the inevitable. We need to correct this from the inside out. That is why there is a tree growing through the church.”

  His delivery failed to make sense to the people. They continued to balk, but some seemed relieved to get answers. Nicholai continued, “For too long we have abused Panagea, sucking all she had within her in exchange for the conveniences of metal and machines. We cannot deny how important technological advancements are, but in our eagerness, we became blind to the fruits of nature.” He gestured to the exposed plants grown in secrecy, now flourishing in the light despite being surrounded by dust. “Here you will find food, medicine, natural materials for clothing; the possibilities are limitless. But most important of all, you will find Panagea’s salvation. She cannot exist without these complex ecosystems to nourish her. By destroying the creations that extend from her, we are slowly killing her.”

  “He speaks the truth,” Umbriel joined Nicholai on his mountain of rubble. “We have asked so much of her and given little in return. For thousands of years, Panagea has been the food in our stomachs, the water in our veins, the oxygen in our lungs, the home where we plant our feet. Is that not enough?”

  Stillness fell over the crowd. It was hard for them to absorb the gravity of Nicholai’s and Umbriel’s words. The Time Father looked upon them. “I understand that it is difficult to grasp,” he started, “having never seen the full force of nature. But those Avadon has rejected, the weak, the poor, they have seen it with their own eyes. They’ve eaten the food grown from the earth, and they’ve found relief in nature’s medicines. Please, speak with them, let them show you. Do not take my word for it. See for yourselves.”

  Rising whispers floated about, comingling with the dust in the air. Cautious whispers of hope, of careful optimism, Nicholai thought. With one final effort, he addressed the people. “We will stay as long as we need to, to show the positivity of our efforts,” he said. “I only ask that if your feet carry you outside Avadon’s borders, you speak of our accomplishments here. Spread the word. Darjal has labeled all of you as faceless, nameless denizens of Southern. He has insulted you by keeping the truth from you. But when I look out at you, I see possibilities. I see not only Southern’s deliverance, but Panagea’s as well.”

  It was quiet. The wind howled as it twisted through the broken rubbish of fallen buildings. Bartholomew gazed at the crowd, then up at Nicholai. He clapped, guessing on a psychological level, people would follow. His hands remained the lone producer of the sound until Iani and Rennington joined in, followed by the rest of Kazuaki’s crew. It didn’t take long before the slum’s inhabitants voiced their applause, thankful for the wonders Nicholai and Umbriel brought unto them. Several of Avadon’s citizens joined in, having experienced the brutality of living in a city that received only religious platitudes from Darjal with no follow-through. They, too, grew excited by the prospect of something better. Though some held fast to their skepticism, Nicholai took it as the best outcome. He exercised care as he climbed down from the rubble and offered his hand to Umbriel.

  “Well done,” Kazuaki gazed at the two exhausted individuals. “Now, let’s find you both a bed and get you some rest. You’ll need all the energy you can muster soon enough.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Time treated them better than it had at the beginning. True to their word, Nicholai, Umbriel, and Kazuaki’s crew brought the same knowledge to Avadon that they brought to the slums. Help came in physical labor, educational offerings, medical services, and emotional support. When Nicholai didn’t busy himself with the plant life's expansion, he answered the peoples’ questions. Some stayed, too attached to Avadon to abandon their home, despite its poor condition. Others ventured forth in search of new beginnings, carrying the tale of the rogue Time Father and his ethereal companions with them.

  Every day was a wait for Darjal. They knew he wished to unleash a storm upon them. But it was not just the Southern Time Father they awaited. As word of their efforts spread, the risk of dwelling in Avadon grew. Other Time Fathers would seek Nicholai out. He knew he could not linger in Avadon much longer, but he stuck to his promise. The man brought as much of himself as he could to the citizens before they discussed their impending departure. It put him in mind of Southeastern. It felt good to return to a version of himself he used to be. If only for a moment.

  Nicholai knelt beside a squash plant. He held out his hands and the green vines crawled outward with speed, climbing the lattice the people fashioned from recycled rubbish. Plump, weighted vegetables sprouted and hung from the plant as a shadow fell over Nicholai. He looked up. Kazuaki towered over him.

  “Nicholai, wh
at you’re doing here ...” His words still held a permanent jaggedness, but he cleared his throat to soften his tone. “You’re doing well.”

  The Time Father arched a brow as he stood and dusted the dirt from his knees. No hidden insult. No verbal attack. With surprise, he said, “Captain Hidataka, that’s quite possibly the most encouraging thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  Kazuaki scoffed and rolled his eye.

  Nicholai knew by the captain’s gesture he ruined the moment. He grinned despite himself. “We’re all doing well,” the Time Father added. “Better than I ever thought possible. Thank you, Kazuaki.”

  “Right,” the captain muttered. He forced a small smile. “Just keep it up.”

  Nicholai returned his smile. He thought they could have saved a thousand worlds before he’d ever receive praise from Kazuaki Hidataka. “So ... you must be excited that Umbriel restored Bermuda’s heart, huh?”

  Kazuaki’s expression flattened. “What?”

  Nicholai blinked. “You know ... I mean, she told me a little about what was going on. About Mimir. Drawing out the poison. That’s why she was so—heartless?” He paused. The heat from Kazuaki’s stare made him feel uncomfortable. “I thought, I figured you’d be the happiest of all, you know.”

  Kazuaki narrowed his eye. But before he opened his mouth to speak, Bermuda ran up to the two men, out of breath.

  “Captain,” she started, intensity in her tone, “I saw an army on the horizon, carrying a sedan chair. It bears the Southern insignia. I’m certain it’s Darjal.”

  “About damn time,” Kazuaki muttered. He grew impatient waiting for the Southern Time Father to make his appearance. “Tell Emont to ready those who wish to fight.”

  “And give those who wish to flee the opportunity,” Nicholai interjected. “We can’t force everyone to take part.”

  Kazuaki scoffed for the second time. Nicholai’s ethics surfaced at the most inopportune moments. The captain motioned the two to follow as he broke into a run. “Stay out of the way if you don’t plan to put yourself to use,” he said to Nicholai. “I will be too preoccupied with the soldiers to save your ass.”