The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  Umbriel listened. Her grace showed in her face. Without hesitation, she placed a hand on his arm. “I know you must go to Bermuda.” Her words held understanding. She knew full well the captain’s heart answered the call to find her. “But please know I cannot stop now. Take the crew to ensure your safety. I’ll continue planting seeds in Southwestern. The threat of capture is nonexistent with Emont in charge. If what Aggi Normandy says is true, I will make my way to Northeastern along the way. It’ll be easier to travel in secrecy if it’s just me. Once you secure Bermuda, we can rendezvous in the safety of Aggi Normandy’s home town.”

  “Absolutely not,” Kazuaki replied, unable to quell the harshness of his words. “I can get Bermuda by myself.”

  “Don’t be foolish, Kazuaki.” Her words were strict, but a gentleness existed in her tone. “Southeastern’s borders are crawling with men. You’ll need every hand available if she’s gotten herself into a dire situation. The crew cannot do much for me while I plant anyway, and they will only draw attention to my efforts.”

  The captain’s jaw tightened with irritation at the sense behind her words. She was right and he did not have time to argue. “I will not leave you defenseless.” He looked to Granite. “You and the beast will travel with her. Keep her safe.”

  Granite nodded as he stroked the top of his dog’s head. It would be strange traveling without the crew, but if any one of them could keep Umbriel safe single-handedly, it was Granite.

  “Meet us in Northeastern, in Aggi Normandy’s home town,” he reiterated to both, his stare’s intensity showing his rigor. “Emont,” he turned toward the new Southwestern Time Father, “issue a letter to Bartholomew. Instruct him to send a man to Southern’s coast. Get word to Penn to meet us near the coastal town of Brechita. We’ll shave time off our journey to Northeastern if we travel by sea.”

  “Right away,” Emont said. “And Captain, track your friend at the station in Norridon. All the routes to Southeastern closed after the imports and exports ceased. They only left one route open to move the soldiers there. If Bermuda is going to Southeastern by steam train that’s her only way to get close to the border.”

  Kazuaki nodded. “Thank you, Emont.”

  “Of course. Good luck.” He slipped passed Nicholai and Edvard as he went out the door.

  Nicholai watched Emont depart, unsure of why he made such a hasty exit. He turned back to Edvard, but it seemed his attention lived elsewhere. “Edvard?” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you listening?”

  The Western Time Father gazed at his son, blinking to clear his cloudy eyes. “Yes, Nicholai, I apologize,” he started, “the state of the world has the people scared. Their complaints ... they keep me up at night.”

  Nicholai’s expression fell flat. He felt Kazuaki’s impatience grow as he spoke. “I’m sorry, Edvard, but I have to cut this short. I really need to be going.”

  The Western Time Father agreed. “It’s just as well. I should be off too. One never knows how difficult it might be to get home if another disaster strikes,” he said, tightening his lips as he looked to his son. “Nicholai ... promise me you’ll be careful. And please, please consider unfreezing Southeastern. I hoped I could talk sense into you, but love ... it has ways of driving a man insane, I know.”

  Nicholai rubbed the back of his neck and forced a nod. “Right. I’ll think about it.”

  Edvard sighed and turned. He started for the door but paused before he exited. “Nicholai,” he began, “if you ever need a place to stay ...”

  The Southeastern Time Father flashed a small smile. In the wake of all the chaos, it felt good to know his father had his back, even to a trivial degree. “Thanks, dad.”

  The word struck him. Edvard lingered. A strange look lived on his face. Nicholai thought for a moment he might say something, but he forced himself to exit instead.

  Kazuaki huffed. “Now that that’s over with,” he muttered, looking to everyone in the room, “let’s get the feck out of here.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  The steam train’s interior felt cramped compared to the outside world. The black locomotive split through the jagged cities with precision, clamoring closer to its next station with each passing second. Rennington stared out the rattling window. Darkness clung to him since they left many hours ago. It rattled around in his soul with a heaviness that matched the weight of the steam train.

  Elowyn stole occasional glimpses of him, assessing his mental condition. Everything was still so fresh. Iani’s death cut her to the core, triggering a series of flashbacks of her blood brothers when they perished in battle. Losing Iani was like losing them all over again. But Elowyn Saveign’s empathy exceeded her emotional distress.

  She rose from her seat and slid into the open space beside Rennington. “He was a great man,” she said with a softness. “Iani died a hero, Renn.”

  Rennington acknowledged her words with a microscopic nod but continued his long, unending gaze into the bleakness of the towns that passed by outside his window. Elowyn sighed and leaned back in the comfort of the cushion that supported her. “He was a great brother,” she continued. “I’m going to miss him so much.”

  Revi perked up. He listened from his place one seat behind Rennington. Though he wasn’t the most sentimental man, he could not deny the pain Rennington experienced. He felt Iani’s loss, himself. Revi leaned forward, trying to lend emotional support, though it was beyond his expertise. “Iani was a soldier. He died doing what he signed up to do to begin with, except this time, he died fighting for someone he respected. He loved Southern, and he knew Bartholomew could turn it around. Iani played a huge role in your home division’s eventual success.”

  “He did,” Elowyn added as she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “I’m sure he knew the power of his sacrifice. Iani Platts had a great heart. I don’t think he would’ve done it any other way.”

  If Rennington listened, he did not respond. He continued to stare out the glass, lost to the clip of his brother getting shot in his mind over and over again. Three rounds. Boom, boom, boom. He must have relived his death a thousand times. Elowyn and Revi sat back, concluding their kind efforts wouldn’t gather any positive results.

  “I’ll tell you what Iani Platts would’ve done,” Brack’s voice sounded from the seat in front of Rennington and Elowyn. He turned around, resting his arm on the back of the seat as he faced the sullen Platts brother. “He’d tell you to quit your damned pouting. Then call you a whiny piece of shit.”

  Elowyn’s eyes widened with horror. Even Revi appeared appalled by Brack’s callous statement. But before they chastised him for his vulgar speech, Rennington cracked the smallest of smiles. He continued gazing out the window, but looked a little less plagued by his thoughts as he uttered, “You’re gods-damned right he would.”

  Kazuaki watched Nicholai as he sat in silence several seats ahead of him. He’d been quiet since their departure, neck-deep in his battle. Darjal’s death could not have been easy for the pacifist to accept, let alone the worry that followed the theft of his Chronometer. And then there was Edvard’s appearance ...

  Still, the captain harbored little pity for the man. It was a useless emotion, and he was far too consumed with rage that Nicholai escalated the failure of an already dying land to delay the inevitable death of one woman. Kazuaki knew he told Bermuda no judgment lived on his ship. All good men made mistakes. But the quartermaster’s absence ate away at him. If she got hurt, or worse ...

  Unable to dwell in his imagination any longer, he stood from his seat and walked over, forcing Nicholai aside as he sat beside him. His words were cold. “Do you know what makes a man a capable leader, Nico?”

  The Southeastern Time Father pulled himself out of his reverie. He appeared hazy as he looked to Kazuaki. “Excuse me?”

  “How long did you govern Southeastern for?”

  Nicholai blinked, confused where the conversation was going. “It’s been ... almost ten years since I was initiated.”

&n
bsp; Kazuaki scoffed. “It’s no wonder you’re terrible at it. I’ve been captain to various crews for hundreds of years, and I’ve never once doomed them to a future of lifelessness.”

  Nicholai’s expression fell flat. He felt a great irritation rise inside of him. The need for survival and his general kindness carried him this far with Captain Kazuaki Hidataka. But everything he endured in the last several months finally crushed his patience. The Time Father sat up straighter as sarcasm spilled from him, “Yes, because governing over a handful of people is the same as governing over hundreds of thousands. I’m sure it must have been very trying for you. How many did you command at most? Ten? Fifteen?”

  Kazuaki scowled. “Belay that!” His arm reached out and dug into the seat cushions in front. “I took you for an intelligent man, Nico. I suspect you never mentioned why you froze Southeastern because, on some level, you also knew how asinine your actions were.”

  “Do not preach to me about asinine actions, Captain,” Nicholai shot back without fear, “lest the sword also calls the dagger sharp.”

  Irritation fumed from the captain, but Nicholai did not relent. Kazuaki barked, “You cast your peoples’ wellbeing aside for one life, Nico. Where do your priorities lie?”

  Nicholai kept his gaze, his facial features firm. “I should ask you the same question, Captain. Or did you forget that we abandoned the revolution to chase after one life?”

  Kazuaki flinched. He did not have an immediate reply. After a moment, he said, “This is completely different.”

  “How so, Captain?” Nicholai feigned ignorance as he leaned forward. “Because you love her? Because she is every bit a part of you as your own hand? Or your lungs? Or your heart?”

  Silence followed. Though Kazuaki said nothing, his stillness spoke volumes.

  Nicholai knew he struck a nerve. He observed Kazuaki’s interactions with Bermuda, how she could knock the powerful man from his composed pedestal with a single word. “I know that’s why we’re pursuing her, Captain, and I went along with it. I went along with it, not just because I need my Chronometer back, but because I am intimately familiar with the sentiments that plague you. Will she be okay? Will I get to her in time? If I don’t, how can I live with myself after?” His words grew more heated as he continued. “I know because I am you, Captain. I may not slaughter an army of footmen without guilt, or command a ship at sea, or become a feckin’ immortal legend, but in this circumstance, whether you like it or not, you and I are one and the same.”

  Kazuaki stared without emotion at the Southeastern Time Father. His words settled over him like dust. He drew in a slow, deep breath and allowed a moment to pass to collect himself. He looked to the front of the steam train. The locomotive slowed down. Seconds later, a member of the train crew appeared at the front of the cart.

  “This is as far she goes to Southeastern,” he announced to those before him. “If you want to enter the borders, you’ll have to go the rest of the way on foot.”

  Kazuaki and the rest of the crew stood to their feet. “That’s fine,” he murmured to the man.

  The attendant looked to Nicholai, tilting his head. “Wait a second,” he started, his face breaking into a grin. “You’re Nicholai Addihein. And you,” he said with excitement, turning to the captain, “you’re Kazuaki Hidataka. You’re the ones who started the revolution!”

  Brack gathered his belongings and chuckled to himself. “News travels fast, aye?”

  “It does when you’re doing justice for the people,” the man said with a grin. “On behalf of all of Panagea, thank you. It’s about time someone did something about the state of this place.” His eyes fell on Elowyn and he gasped. “You must be the Earth Mother!”

  Elowyn forced a smirk but did not bother correcting him. “We appreciate your enthusiasm,” she said as she threw a pack over her shoulder, “but we really need to be on our way. Time restraints, you know.”

  “Of course, of course,” he moved out of everyone’s way as they departed the train. He waved, a huge grin plastered to his face. “I can’t wait to tell everyone I met the people who will save Panagea.”

  “Let’s keep that bit hush-hush,” Kazuaki muttered as he turned to the man from the station platform. “We’re trying to keep from getting murdered and all that.”

  “Oh! Right!” The man nodded as the steam train hissed. “Good luck and thank you!”

  The crew turned away, creating distance between themselves and the train. Kazuaki reached into his pocket and removed a small compass. Revi leaned over as he flipped it open, looking up when the needle pointed toward Southeastern. “That’s it then?” he asked, looking off in the direction the needle showed. The land stretching outward before them appeared ominous. Fog shrouded whatever hid beyond their eyesight, but even the limited expanse of what they saw reflected a land that bordered a forgotten place.

  Kazuaki looked down, trying to find a sign of where Bermuda may have gone. When he carried himself far enough away from the train station’s platform, he found a set of footprints carved into the soft ash that settled over the decrepit ground. “We’re on the right track,” he muttered as he continued onward.

  The crew followed behind, wordless as they trudged forward. Kazuaki moved with purpose, compelled onward by his desire to find Bermuda before she got hurt. Nicholai’s words filtered through his brain, causing a frown to appear on his face. Though he denied it with every breath, he knew Nicholai was right. A victim of his hypocrisy, Kazuaki’s long strides carried him deeper into the dismal direction of Southeastern’s borders.

  Despite his best efforts, it seemed he shared more in common with Nicholai Addihein that he first thought.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  It was cold in Western. The winds brought a chill with them. While Edvard Addihein was typically a stoic man, it sent a shiver through his bones. His thoughts were as unforgiving as the wind. His arms wrapped around himself a little tighter as he waited, tormented by his feelings as he stood on the cliff’s edge.

  Perhaps it wasn’t the winds that made him shiver.

  He heard the ornithopter before he saw it. The clunky machine appeared in the clouds, swirling the mist with its blades and wings as it edged closer. Edvard stepped back to give the flying contraption a clear space to land. Nordjan pulled himself from the ornithopter’s seat, an eagerness about him that Edvard never witnessed before.

  “Well?” the Northern Time Father asked without hesitation.

  Edvard felt his entire body tense under his own touch. He looked Nordjan in the eyes. “They’re meeting in the coastal town of Brechita before moving to Aggi Normandy’s home town. If they survive Southeastern’s borders, you can intercept them there. They travel by steam train now, but I overheard the captain instructing the new Southwestern Time Father to send word for his ship to carry them to Northeastern.”

  Nordjan tightened his fists. His excitement grew. “Excellent. Thank you, Edvard. You’ve served Panagea well this day. It’s a huge step toward regaining favor.”

  The Western Time Father remained emotionless. With fatigue infecting his words, he replied, “I would do anything for Panagea and its people.”

  “I will send word to Jernal. He was on route back to Southern before Darjal’s death,” he muttered, his brain firing as he tried to calculate the soldier’s next stop. “If he cannot reach Southern’s coast before the captain’s ship is on the move, perhaps he can follow their route to Brechita and intercept them there.”

  Edvard nodded dutifully. “Kazuaki’s crew has experience over Jernal. I’m sure they’ll move fast in the waters, but if he can head them off, he’ll have a much better chance at catching them.”

  “Right,” Nordjan rubbed his hands together. “We mustn’t waste any time. I’ll send the necessary letters immediately,” he breathed as he returned to his ornithopter. “Edvard,” he started, a look of pride on his face, “I know that must have been difficult for you. Well done.”

  Edvard Addihein said nothing. He watched
in silence as Nordjan fired up his ornithopter. Even after he vanished outside the Western Time Father’s field of vision, he remained standing on the ledge. Though he had done right by Panagea, by Nordjan, Edvard Addihein could not shake the poisonous feelings of guilt that churned in his stomach. He remembered it well.

  As the cold winds brushed against him, he turned away, heading back to his home. With any luck, there would be a series of messengers there, bearing various complaints about the state of Western. They, at least, would keep his mind off the burning ache in his chest.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The ash fell like snow the closer Bermuda edged to the border. Delicate gray and black flakes settled on the ground, cast off from the volcanic eruptions Panagea experienced in the last few months. The quartermaster lifted an arm to shield her nose and mouth as she walked. She tasted the ash through her nostrils and on her tongue. It held the flavor of death.

  Nicholai’s Chronometer waved back and forth in her mechanical hand as she walked, the chain clanking against her steel digits. Fortitude pushed her to her destination. The military vacated the smaller towns she walked through since leaving the train station. Posted signs on various structures left little doubt. Another symbol of Darjal’s selfish efforts, to keep the people of Southern from discovering the predicament that befell Southeastern.

  Even if the military hadn't ordered them to leave, Bermuda doubted anyone in their right mind would stay. The towns closest to the unmoving division received the brunt of Panagea’s tantrums. Jagged chunks of rubble jutted up from the ground, but it was otherwise a barren wasteland, devoid of life, forgotten under a blanket of powder and debris.

  Her solitary trek gave her many hours to think. Anger gripped her. Her heart bled for Iani. Once again, Bermuda blindly followed Kazuaki into an adventure. The captain always possessed an aptitude and foresight she respected, but this endeavor was an egregious error on his part. Worse yet, the crew shared his vision. The revolution called to them. It cost them Bartholomew and Iani.