The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  Nicholai continued to stare at the body, unmoving. “I killed him,” he replied, mentally ravaging himself from the inside.

  “I’ll say you did,” Rennington gave the corpse a little kick. He made a face when he felt the femur fall off the pelvis from inside the pants. “Didn’t think you had it in you. Let’s go tell Kazuaki the good news.”

  Iani walked over to see the body and stuck his tongue out at the sight. “Ugh, damn, Renn, why didn’t you warn me? That’s sick.”

  Rennington reached down and grabbed Darjal’s decayed arm. It separated from the body with ease and he waved it in Iani’s face. “Need a hand telling the captain he’s dead?” He laughed at his dark humor and found more amusement as Iani shied away from the limb.

  “You’re feckin’ off in the head, Renn,” Iani swatted the hand, refusing to watch as it struck the floor with a thud. The Platts brothers started out the door, walking over the bodies of the four footmen who once guarded the entrance.

  “Darjal’s army is retreating. They had the upper hand for a while, but ...” Rennington shook his head and shuddered. “Let’s just say never mess with Granite’s dog. With Darjal done and dead, the battle’s as good as won. You both coming?” Rennington asked, oblivious to Nicholai’s mental anguish.

  Umbriel looked to the two and forced a gentle smile. “We’ll catch up.”

  “Right-o, we’ll be in the town center,” Rennington stole one last glimpse of Darjal’s withered corpse. The symbol of Southern fell. The man who ordered the Platts brothers to send those children to their deaths. It felt good, he thought, as he followed Iani out the door. Justice was finally served.

  Umbriel looked over to Nicholai. His anguish was tangible. She grabbed his hand to let him know she was there. “Are you going to be okay?”

  Nicholai jumped. He drew in a sharp gulp of oxygen. He hadn’t even realized he stopped breathing. Numbness crept up his entire body as he knelt and scooped up the Chronometer once possessed by Darjal Wessex. “I’ll be okay.”

  She wasn’t convinced. But with little else to do, she whispered a silent prayer for Darjal that the old world gods swept his soul to a better afterlife. She hoped he found peace. With that, she followed Nicholai out of the church doors, leaving Darjal Wessex to his tomb inside his precious church.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  The gathering in the town center was a mixture of triumph and mourning. Many perished, still sprawled on the broken grounds of the battlefield. The tragedy came at a cost, but the people saw it as a pivotal moment for Avadon. Their city’s voice stretched out far across the land and shouted its disapproval for their division’s condition. It was a drop in the ocean, but they reveled. It was the start of something. A part of a movement so grand it filled their tired hearts and provided a sense of purpose and relief to the injuries they suffered in battle.

  Caked in blood, Kazuaki found Bermuda in the crowd. A look of relief climbed onto his face when he realized she survived. One by one, others joined the group. The reveled in the safety of their comrades. The only one who did not celebrate was Granite, far too consumed by his injured dog to give much care to anything else around him.

  Elowyn separated herself from the group and slipped over to Granite’s side. “May I?” she asked. When he nodded his approval, she felt the creature’s bones. Her expertise relied in human medicine, but she couldn’t abandon Granite to his concern. There were obvious breaks in the dog’s legs. She looked up at Granite with as much reassurance as she could muster. “I’ll do everything in my power to help him, Granite. I promise.”

  Kazuaki looked to Nicholai as he approached with Umbriel. He could tell the man was beside himself. His face was pale, emotionless. He recognized the look. The captain saw it in many others throughout his lifetime. Rennington filled him in on what went on in the church. Nicholai’s mental trauma was fresh; Kazuaki thought it best not to bring it up. “Our work in Avadon is finished,” he said. “Our efforts here were successful today, but if the other divisions send their armies at the same time, there’s no way we’ll be able to beat them back. We need to move on to Southwestern and stay ahead of them.” Kazuaki looked out into the riotous crowd. “They have the tools to rebuild this place. They’ll be safer if we’re not here.”

  Emont stepped forward. “I’m coming with you.”

  The captain frowned. “We can’t leave Avadon without structure. It’s clear whoever held office of this city isn’t present. They’ll need guidance during reconstruction and help to bury their dead. You’re needed here, Emont.”

  “I will resign my position to Jodathyn,” he replied, conviction on his face. “He’s a stand-up man, he knows how to take charge. You must amass more followers as you move. I’m familiar with surrounding towns that stretch beyond Avadon. I’ll spread the word of what we did, I’ll gain more soldiers, not just for the cause, but I’ll send additional hands to Avadon to assist. Morale is low elsewhere, I know they’ll stand up and fight when news of our success reaches them. You need us, Kazuaki. You can’t do this alone.”

  The captain clenched his jaw. Emont was right. Were it not for Avadon’s people, they would not have succeeded in their efforts. “Very well, Emont,” he replied. “Gather whoever you can. Meet us outside of Denicee. We’ll enter Carlo Angevin’s home town together. If we beat you there, we’ll wait.”

  Emont nodded. “You paved the way to rebirth Avadon anew. I won’t let you down.”

  Nicholai shared a grim glance with the two men. “There’s just one loose end,” he said as he clutched Darjal’s Chronometer in his palm. “We need to appoint a new Southern Time Father. With Darjal dead, there’s no one with the power to wind the Chronometer. Southern will freeze in less than twenty-four hours, and all of you with it.”

  Kazuaki frowned. Nicholai spoke the truth. But they couldn’t choose anybody. It was an enormous undertaking, ruling a division, let alone a fragile one. They needed someone intelligent, someone capable, someone as abrasive as they were understanding to the peoples’ needs. Most important of all, they needed someone they trusted. “That doesn’t give us much time to find someone we can rely on,” the captain muttered.

  The crew fell quiet. Time was not on their side. They couldn’t throw anyone into that position. Even if they could, few would jump at the opportunity.

  Without the approval of the rest, the new Time Father would have just as big a target on his back as Nicholai. Especially if it was known he was the rogue Time Father’s ally. The weight of the moment crushed upon them until Bartholomew stepped forward and looked Nicholai in the eyes.

  “I’ll do it,” he said. “I’ll be Southern’s Time Father.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The victory in Avadon fueled the people with new hope. Most embraced Bartholomew’s offer to rule; they craved leadership in their desperate hour. They felt an absence of it since Avadon’s mayor abandoned his position. Bartholomew assured them he would lead with fairness, but they weren’t selective. A leader gave them optimism that someone would change their ravaged land. And if he failed, they at least had someone to blame. Bartholomew welcomed the challenge.

  Kazuaki and the crew stood before the scholar as did Nicholai and Umbriel. Darjal’s Chronometer swung back and forth in the Southeastern Time Father’s hand as he held the chain.

  “Are you sure, Bartholomew?” Nicholai asked for the last time. “You will be bound here, inside Southern’s borders, unable to leave for more than a day. It’s a far cry from the life you knew at sea.”

  Bartholomew nodded. He understood their uncertainty but felt none of his own. “I am sure.”

  The Southeastern Time Father returned his nod and popped the clock’s face open, exposing the gears that clicked and whirled within. He knelt and scraped a healing wound on his hand open by slicing it over a piece of sharp rubble. Nicholai hovered his injury above the clock until a drop of blood fell inside, the first step in preparing the Chronometer for a new member. Prepped with the blood of the old, he looke
d to Bartholomew. “Your turn,” he held out his hand.

  Bartholomew did not hesitate. He rested his hand in Nicholai’s. With a quick swipe, the Southeastern Time Father split his skin open, allowing Bartholomew’s blood to commingle with the Chronometer’s gears. Bartholomew’s DNA spilled into the corners of the watch’s interior. He belonged to Southern now.

  Nicholai closed the Chronometer’s face and handed it to the man before him. “Congratulations.” He forced a smile, relieved to have found someone capable, yet saddened to leave him behind. “Southern couldn’t be in better hands.”

  Bartholomew accepted the Chronometer with gentle hands. He wiped his thumb over the smooth face of the clock before he affixed it to his clothing by the chain. “I won’t let you down.”

  “It never crossed my mind.” Nicholai patted Bartholomew on the shoulder before he stood aside to allow the others to issue their goodbyes.

  Kazuaki approached and stared at Bartholomew with a sigh. “Good luck, old friend.” He looked around at the barren environment that surrounded them. It looked dreadful. He turned back to his comrade. “If anyone can turn this place around, it’s you.”

  Bartholomew smiled. “I know the sea has always been your place, Kazuaki. But know as long as I’m here, you will always have a home on Southern ground.”

  It was a struggle to bid farewell to such a good man. Kazuaki extended his hand for a shake, but Bartholomew pulled the gruff man into an embrace. He remained stiff under the show of affection, but after a moment, Kazuaki softened and patted Bartholomew on the back.

  When he pulled away, he looked to the crew. They all stared at Bartholomew, their faces encouraged, save for Bermuda. She portrayed a look of uncertainty.

  “See you, Bart,” Brack said as he shook the man’s hand.

  Iani and Rennington approached together, smiling at Bartholomew as they stood before him. Intelligent, accomplished, and well-spoken, he was the picture of perfection. None better could fill the role. “Finally,” Iani said, “a Southern ruler I would gladly die for.”

  “Let’s not be dramatic,” Bartholomew replied as he shook the brothers’ hands with a quiet laugh. He stepped back and gazed upon those he came to know well. “Go on then,” he said, enveloped in pride at having had the pleasure of knowing them. “Go liberate the world.”

  The departure did not come without pain, but duty carried them forward. They commandeered two steam cars with the respective owners’ permission. Avadon faded into the distance as they trudged forward. The cars rattled over the uneven terrain. Avadon was only a small part that made up the Southern division, but they remained confident word would spread. Everything here lived in the capable hands of Bartholomew now. They needed to keep going. The vehicles headed southwest into Carlo Angevin's division.

  Weeks passed. They stopped at several places along the way to make camp. Nicholai and Umbriel took advantage of the breaks, crafting small ecosystems in secrecy as they went. The group often sought shelter in decrepit buildings along the way, trying their best to stay low and progress. It was disheartening how many existed. Panagea's desecration spread beyond Avadon. Every village or city they drove through suffered. Some were more obvious than others.

  In the daylight, Umbriel summoned and sprinkled various seeds as she hung out the side of the steam car. Her tactic did not give Nicholai any opportunities to isolate and speed up their time, but it required little effort of her, and she let nature take its course. If the seeds were strong, they would survive, and the survivors would reseed themselves with stronger, more durable offspring.

  It felt no different when they crossed the border into Southwestern, save for the gaping absence of Bartholomew’s wisdom. Though emotions ran high, the crew remained in great spirits coming off the victory in Southern. Nicholai did not share their enthusiasm. He suffered through his disgust with himself but hid it well.

  Night approached after another day of many logged hours driving. Their vehicles crawled into a small town, the terrain crackling under the tires as they pulled the cars behind a tall building to shield them. Fruits Umbriel packed fed their hungry stomachs, and they readied themselves for rest.

  The moon hung high in the distance, beaming a soft illumination onto the dark town. Evening was well upon them. The streets lived in stillness with not a person in sight. Small towns did not share a bustling nightlife; the residents were all inside their homes, finding sleep in their beds.

  “We can stop in a few more places to allow Umbriel time to grow her plants,” Kazuaki said, breaking the silence as everyone readied themselves to find rest. “That’ll give Emont more time to gather recruits. As soon as he meets us in Denicee, we’ll isolate Carlo Angevin. A handful of the footmen are just blindly following orders. If we assassinate Carlo first, with any luck, most will surrender.”

  Nicholai looked up from his untouched fruit. “That’s not what we’re trying to do.” His conviction on the matter was strong, a side effect of the despair he felt at killing Darjal. “We’re helping the people. Helping Panagea. This isn’t a Time Father murder party,” he muttered.

  Kazuaki scoffed. “One and the same. One accomplishes the other.”

  The Time Father’s gaze fell flat. “For every one you kill, we’ll struggle to find a suitable replacement. We got extremely lucky with Bartholomew. He made the ultimate sacrifice. Do you intend to condemn others to the same fate?”

  The captain arched a brow. “Condemn them? Is that what you feel your title is, Nico? A punishment?”

  The man flinched. He started to. “Just ... think about it.”

  Kazuaki looked unimpressed. “I’ll know what to do in the moment.”

  Nicholai was too tired to argue. He closed his eyes and felt the sting of many sleepless nights attack his lids. The man collapsed back. Against his body’s wishes, he pried his tired eyes open and looked up at the sky. No stars shone through the surrounding town’s smog and lights. He wasn’t surprised. He only saw them when they were far off Panagea’s shores, rolling on the waves of Kazuaki’s ship.

  Umbriel laid down beside him, her eyes on the heavens. “How are you holding up?”

  “Fine.”

  He answered too fast to sound reassuring, but she sensed he did not wish to discuss it. She wasn’t sure if leaving him alone with his thoughts was a good idea, but Umbriel knew she couldn’t force him to talk. The Earth Mother turned over, closing her eyes to summon sleep.

  Granite ripped little pieces of dried meat from his hands, feeding the beast the small morsels as he sat in the steam car. Despite both Elowyn’s and Umbriel’s best efforts, one of the dog’s legs suffered far too much damage and required amputation. Umbriel’s abilities facilitated in healing the dog’s soft tissues, but reconstructing the shattered bone was beyond hers, or Elowyn’s medical expertise. The beast did not seem to mind. He wagged his tail and licked Granite’s face as he fed him.

  Bermuda sat beside the captain who propped himself up on the steam car to take the first watch. She rested her arms on her bent knees, sighing after a full day of travel. Everyone around them laid down, trying to find rest. The orange glow from the fire brought light to her face. She thought of the countless bodies they left behind in Avadon. She thought of Bartholomew. “Do you really think we can do it, Kazuaki?” Her voice quieted in the stillness. “Do you still believe it’s all worth it?”

  The captain watched as the others slept. Revi would rise in four hours to take over the watch so he, too, could get a small amount of shut-eye. “It went well in Southern,” he replied, turning to face Bermuda when he was certain everyone else found sleep. “I’m optimistic.”

  “For what?” A hint of frustration tainted her query. “We had a home at sea. We don’t need another one. Penn is stuck with the ship, we lost Bartholomew forever to Southern ... it seems like everything is falling apart, and I’m still not sure why we’re doing it. Why doesn’t Nico just restart Southeastern and spare us all this headache? That seems to be all the Time Fathers w
ant.”

  Kazuaki squared his shoulders and shrugged. “I’m sure he has his reasons. We’ll deal with that when the timing is right. But for now,” he said, “we fight. We fight for what Panagea used to be, for what she could become.”

  “Which is?”

  The captain smirked. “A new beginning. Seems we could all use one of those.” He knew his crew well. They all harbored reasons for taking part.

  Revi still searched for a way to redeem himself. To give a less chaotic world to the children he left behind.

  Bartholomew wanted change, always embittered by the destruction of the learning institutions. Now he lived in a position where he could make his own and mold more minds.

  Granite craved a place where the beast and he could roam, a land that welcomed the four-legged creatures he found to be far better company than people.

  The Platts brothers never quit being soldiers. They followed their orders with conviction and duty, far more content now to be a part of something greater than they ever were under Darjal’s command.

  The chip on Elowyn’s shoulder compelled her to continue. As a woman, she felt she had something to prove. The medic grew tired of Panagea’s patriarchal society. She wanted a specific change and thought she could find it in the revolution.

  And Brack ... Kazuaki grinned. The Rabbit went along with anything. The captain was certain the man would reference their adventure just to seduce women.

  Bermuda pursed her lips and slanted her neck back to look up at the sky. Her look of disapproval shifted to one of slow acceptance. She trusted him. The quartermaster always followed the captain into the dark. With a smirk, she used her shoulder to nudge him. “Careful, Captain. The crew will think you’re going soft.”

  He chuckled for a moment, resting his head on the back of the steam car. “Gods damn it all. I hope not.”

  Bermuda grinned. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”