The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  Rennington unleashed a war cry. A man possessed, he fought his way through the people. The sheer volume and horror of the noise that emanated from him banished both footmen and civilians from his route. They stumbled to clear themselves from his wrath. From that psychotic sound. Adrenaline, rage, and raw power drove him forward with great speed. In one leap, Rennington tackled Carlo Angevin to the ground.

  Carlo didn’t stand a chance. The frail leader suffered under the force of Rennington’s unbridled strength. He forced the flailing man onto his back, unleashing an unforgiving onslaught of fists onto the face of his brother’s killer.

  It was a disgusting display.

  The dynamism in which Rennington dropped his fists was inhuman. His attack was as brutal as it was relentless. Several of Carlo’s teeth flew from his jaw at the impact. His arms, which he held up to defend himself, dropped to his sides, motionless. The man’s face became nothing more than the shattered remnants of what was once a skull. Rennington’s knuckles swelled, bones in his hands fractured. He continued, though Carlo was visibly dead.

  Rennington’s onslaught did not cease, but the rest of the battle did. The captain and his crew annihilated much of the footmen. Those who remained alive surrendered at the sight of their dwindling numbers. What citizens remained ran to their homes. The revolutionaries fell from a hundred to a handful, less than twenty having survived the butchery.

  Carcasses blanketed the streets. People shied away from the scene of the overkill. Granite and Revi pushed themselves out of the crowd, the beast limped behind them. When they saw Rennington, they rushed forward and grabbed his arms.

  “Renn,” Revi tried to pull the man back as he continued to deliver punches on what was only bone fragments and tissue attached to a body. “He’s dead, mate. He’s dead.”

  Rennington didn’t hear him. Even when Granite’s colossal strength joined to help Revi, he continued the assault. It wasn’t until Nicholai also joined the other two men that the three pulled him off what remained of Carlo Angevin’s body.

  “Rennington ...” Nicholai didn’t know what to say.

  The man remained under their grasp for only a moment, breathing hard before he pulled himself away and stormed off. Nicholai followed, but Revi stopped him with a well-timed hand on his shoulder.

  “Let him go, mate. There’s nothing you can say right now.”

  Nicholai’s eyes fell. He felt for the elder Platts brother. It was clear to him long ago when he saw the two for the first time in Avadon their bond ran deep. Iani’s death was not the only thing that gnawed at him. He forced himself to look over at Carlo’s body. He let another Time Father fall. Though the sight disgusted him, he bent down and scooped up the Chronometer, still wet with Carlo’s blood.

  As more people witnessed Carlo’s corpse, word filtered through those who remained standing that the battle was a success. The small crowd cheered and voiced their overwhelming joy at the sight. Nicholai wondered if these people knew what success was. As he stared out at the bodies that climbed into the triple digits, all he saw was a failure. Carlo’s death changed nothing unless they found a suitable replacement they trusted. It was Avadon all over again.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Iani’s funeral was short. What it lacked in time, it made up for in sentiment. The crew wrapped him in a thick sheet and laid him in a steam car’s back seat. Rennington was adamant his grave would not rest in Southwestern. After all their goodbyes spilled from their mouths, a revolutionary drove him out, back toward his home. Toward Southern. Kazuaki assured Rennington he’d send word to Bartholomew. He would give him a proper burial.

  The flames reduced Carlo’s tower to garbage. Though a shell of the building still stood, the black soot inside along with the questionable strength of the infrastructure made it uninhabitable. The footmen relented to Kazuaki and the others. Citizens jailed for igniting small revolutions of their own were freed from the prisons, released back into the welcoming arms of their family. Husbands, wives, brothers, sisters of those who found freedom sought the crew, thanking them for their efforts to save those who wished to start a change.

  The crew found refuge in a large, armored building outside the prison walls. With Carlo’s tower in ruins, it was the best place to figure out their next move. Emont, Kazuaki, Bermuda, Revi, Brack, and Granite stood beside Nicholai in the main area, while Elowyn and Umbriel comforted a silent Rennington in the next room.

  “I know it’s not the time,” Nicholai said, his voice hesitant, “but it’s been ten hours since Carlo’s death. We’re running short of time to initiate a new Time Father.”

  Bermuda narrowed her eyes, irritated at Nicholai’s statement. Contained rage poisoned her stare. “How can you even think about that right now? Iani is dead, Nico.”

  Nicholai squared his shoulders. “It’s not as if I want to ... but if we don’t, Southwestern’s time will stop.”

  Bermuda met his gaze. Unwavering aggression poured out of her as she hissed, “That doesn’t seem to bother you about Southeastern.”

  The room grew quiet. Nicholai stared at her and took a deep breath. “Bermuda, I mourn for Iani too ...”

  “As you should,” she glared, crossing her arms. “I would feel terrible too if someone in your family died fighting a war I created.”

  “Bermuda,” Kazuaki took her arm and ushered her out of the room before things escalated. When they were out of earshot of the others, he found her face. His expression reflected stern remorse. “We’re all grieving,” he said. “I know it’s not easy. Burying good men never is.”

  She glowered at him and shook her head. “This is getting ridiculous, Kazuaki. This feckin’ revolution is tearing our crew apart. First Bartholomew, now Iani. How many more do we have to lose before you realize this isn’t worth it? These people aren’t worth it!”

  “We all have our reasons, Bermuda.” He looked back toward the crew. “I’m sorry you haven’t found yours yet.” It gutted him to say it. But he needed her to know. “I stand by what I said before. You can take your leave whenever you want. I won’t force you to do this.”

  The quartermaster scoffed. “I see Nicholai’s been wiping his damnable ethics off on you. He needs to restart Southeastern,” she said, her words firm. “If he does, it’ll take the heat off. He’s the one they’re hunting, not us.”

  Her words cut him, but like every other injury he suffered, he showed no sign of weakness. “Nico is part of the crew now,” Kazuaki said, having gained a surprising amount of respect for the man in the months they spent together. “And we’ve never forced our members to face their pasts before. I know you’re fuming now, Bermuda, as am I. But let us keep our anger directed to the right target. Nico is not the one who killed Iani. The Time Fathers did. Their tactics did. The world they built is what killed Iani.”

  Bermuda narrowed her eyes. “Seems you forgot he’s one of them,” she glared, “not one of us.” The woman turned, her anger carried her far and away from Kazuaki Hidataka and Nicholai Addihein.

  The captain closed his eye. His jaw tightened, and he threw an aggressive punch into the wall. Kazuaki understood her frustration, he knew from where it stemmed. Bermuda was a maiden of strength and grit. But her Achilles heel remained. She never handled the death of a loved one with grace.

  Kazuaki dragged himself back into the others’ presence. He found Nicholai’s eyes across the room. “So?” he muttered. “What did we decide?”

  Nicholai sat up straighter, surprised Kazuaki returned. “Emont has graciously accepted the risks of assuming the title.”

  Kazuaki flicked his gaze to Emont. He didn’t know him long, but he gave an approving nod. The captain trusted him. He was a man who did not shy away from a challenge, and best yet, Kazuaki did not have to part with another member of his dwindling crew. “Good man,” he murmured. “Now everyone get some rest. We’ll figure out our next move on the morrow.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Nicholai’s arm shot up out of bed. He reached for the
bullet that hurled toward Lilac. It struck his palm, and for a moment, he felt the sting of the metal as it pierced his flesh. But when cognizance returned to his otherwise cloudy brain, he realized it had all been a terrible dream.

  Funny, how the pain felt real.

  He rubbed his palm to banish the strange, lingering ache as he pulled himself to his feet and threw his shirt on over his head. The man’s face twisted into an uncomfortable frown. Something was off. Though distracted by the phantom pain in his hand, Nicholai soon realized a weightlessness around his neck. His fingers reached down. Dread consumed his eyes as he searched his empty chest.

  His Chronometer was gone.

  Kazuaki burst into his room. Though he disguised it well with his experience, Nicholai isolated a fraction of the same panic he felt. “Bermuda is missing,” the captain announced, staring at the Southeastern Time Father.

  At that moment, he knew. Nicholai looked to the captain, the light from fresh dawn outside filtered through the small windows of the building. The others in the room stirred due to the commotion. “So is my Chronometer,” he confessed.

  The captain’s face shifted into one of intense frustration as he balled his hands into fists. He feared she took him up on his offer. With no initiative to fight, Kazuaki assumed Bermuda abandoned the cause. But no. She started her own. He drew in a deep breath through his nose and exhaled, “Of course it is.” He threw his attention the Time Father’s way. “Nicholai, I have reason to believe she’s on her way to Southeastern. She’s going to try to restart your division’s time.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Nicholai replied as he paced, sweeping his hands through his hair. “She can’t. The Chronometer won’t respond to her. Only a Time Father can restart his division’s time. She won’t even be able to enter the border—” His expression became one of increasing concern as he recalled all the soldiers dispatched to Southeastern. “Kazuaki, as soon as she sets foot there, they’ll kill her.”

  The captain squared his shoulders. “Get dressed,” he ordered, looking to the rest of the crew as they pulled themselves into a waking state. “We’ll intercept her before she gets too far.”

  In the heat of the moment, Kazuaki did not hear Emont as he approached from behind. “Excuse me, Captain, but I need to speak to Nicholai.”

  “I can’t now, Emont, I’m sorry,” Nicholai hurriedly gathered his belongings, trying to assemble himself with efficiency.

  Emont entered the room. “With all due respect, Nicholai, I really think you’d wish to address this ...”

  “I don't have the time. We’re in a bit of an emergency state at the moment.”

  "But, Nicholai—"

  Another body appeared in the doorway. Kazuaki arched a brow and stepped aside as not to stand so close to the figure. The man held a commanding presence despite the fatigue that emanated off his body.

  “Hello, Nicholai,” he said.

  The captain’s eye shifted to a skeptical slit as he shot a glance at Nicholai. “Who’s this?” he asked, irritated their efforts to find Bermuda were being delayed.

  Nicholai spun around to take in the view of the man who stood in the door. His face dropped, but he recovered well. It was the last man in the world he expected to see. After clearing his throat, he declared to Kazuaki, “This is Edvard Addihein. My father.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Nicholai could not shake the shock. He had not laid eyes on Edvard Addihein since the last decennial gathering of the Time Fathers at Panagea’s center. It was almost ten years ago when he took up command of Southeastern’s time. Nicholai possessed mixed feelings about Edvard’s arrival. It couldn’t have come at a worse moment. “I’m sorry, Edvard,” he said, unable to address him by his familial title since he entered adulthood. “I’m not sure why you came, but the timing is ...” He trailed off, not wanting to come across as rude to a man who made a long and tedious journey, but there was no way around his immediate departure's necessity.

  “It’s okay, Nicholai,” Edvard lifted his hand to dismiss his son’s concern. “I cannot stay long. With most of the roads and train tracks in disrepair from the disasters, it took much longer to get here than I suspected. I have little time before I need to head back if I’m to return in time to keep Western in check.” He patted the Chronometer chained to his breast pocket.

  Nicholai grabbed a long-sleeved coat and threw his arms inside. He kept his eyes on Edvard the entire time. “You traveled a long way,” he said with skepticism. “Why?”

  Edvard frowned. A sigh escaped his lips. “I came because I received word of what happened in Southern. I know Darjal is dead,” he announced, a seriousness in his tone. “The other Time Fathers are hunting you tenfold now, Nicholai. I need to know why ... why you froze Southeastern. Why you’re doing ... this.” He waved his arms around. Kazuaki noticed his hands lingered in his direction.

  The captain glowered at Edvard as the others acquainted themselves with a more wakeful state. Granite’s dog wagged his tail as he ran over to the tired bodies and licked them. Rennington did not sleep much. His eyes held an absence while the others held confusion. They looked to the captain for answers, but he was far too focused on Edvard to pay them much mind.

  Nicholai closed his eyes as he tried to find the right words. “We need a change, da ... Edvard.” He tried in vain to address him by his title as his father, but it felt too strange. They shared a bloodline, but little else. To Nicholai, the man was, for all intents and purposes, a stranger. “Panagea was dying long before I froze Southeastern. Nordjan knew it. He’d tell me as much in every monthly meeting. We can’t correct it continuing as we have. Panagea needs the Earth Mother.” His tone fell as he paused. “Now you answer a question for me. Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

  The Western Time Father cringed but remained honorable in his stand. “Sometimes people do things they think are right at the moment,” he replied. “Like what you did in Southeastern. A thirst for change isn’t the motivation for your treason, Nicholai. I know you learned of the Earth Mother after you doomed Southeastern to its fate. Tell me why.”

  He should’ve known Edvard would see through his explanation. The Western Time Father was a perceptive man during his childhood. It only made sense the skill deepened as he aged. Nicholai glanced at the crew behind him, then flicked his eyes to Kazuaki. With hesitation, he turned back to Edvard. It was time to own up to his crime. He ran from it for far too long. “I did it for Lilac,” he confessed. “Certain death lingers an inch or two from her face in the form of a bullet. If I did not stop Southeastern’s time,” he paused, summoning the conviction to continue, “she would have died.”

  The crew exchanged glances with one another. This was the first they heard of Lilac. Edvard stared at his son, more regret than understanding reflected in his eyes. “My son, I know it may not seem like it, but if you leave her in her state, she’s already as good as dead. Along with the hundreds of thousands of people who live in Southeastern with her.”

  “I’ll find a way to save her,” he shot back with unintended aggression. “I have to. She means everything to me.”

  Edvard looked on, his expression revealed his disappointment. “Take it from me, boy. The fates of others are beyond our control. We may control the time that surrounds them, but we’re powerless to the inevitable.”

  Kazuaki watched the Addihein’s. He bristled at Nicholai’s confession. He took Nicholai for a smart man. As his respect for the Southeastern Time Father grew, he speculated the man’s reasoning for freezing his division stemmed from grand importance. Nicholai showcased his intelligence the entire time he was in the captain’s company, and while Kazuaki gave him a brutal beginning, he grew to trust the Time Father’s instincts and ethics. As Bermuda observed, some even rubbed off on him. But this whole time, hundreds of thousands of lives hung in the balance for one woman.

  Before he vocalized his anger, Emont walked over to him and pulled him aside. “Captain, Edvard’s arrival is not the only thi
ng that needs addressing.” He removed a wax-sealed parchment from his breast pocket. “This came by currier from Southern with great haste. It seems the news of Darjal’s death has spread like wildfire. Aggi Normandy delivered this overnight to Southern, in hopes we were still there, but when Bartholomew received it, he sent it to us straight away.”

  The captain’s eye scanned the contents of the letter after he ripped it open. It seemed Aggi Normandy celebrated their exploits with cautious optimism. “The Northeastern division wishes to give us aid,” he muttered, looking to Emont for insight. Kazuaki was far too removed from Panagea to know much about the individual Time Fathers. There was only so much he could speculate. “What do you think, Emont? Can we trust him?”

  “Aggi and Edvard have always been the most well-received, Captain,” Emont looked over his shoulder as Nicholai and Edvard continued to talk. He turned his attention back to Kazuaki. “But Aggi Normandy is the only one with a history of standing up to the other Time Fathers. I’m certain he means what he says.”

  Umbriel entered the room, surprised to see the alarmed faces of the others. She rose with the sun to help the citizens of Denicee bury their dead. After blessing the fallen, her feet carried her back to the building where her comrades rested, but their concern distressed her. “What’s going on?” she asked, her eyes falling on Edvard as he and Nicholai shared a quiet discussion in the room’s corner.

  Kazuaki ground his teeth. “Bermuda’s gone. She took Nicholai’s Chronometer. She’s off to Southeastern to restart his division. Aggi Normandy of Northeastern has promised us his aid. This letter dictates he’s given his word to support our efforts. And that,” the captain scowled, “is Nicholai’s father. Edvard Addihein of Western.”