Kazuaki stepped forward. He loomed over the bedridden figure, inches away. His eye scrutinized every detail of the pathetic creature splayed on the flattened surface. He did not look to be a god. But no mortal could have endured a lengthy existence in this place.
“History has painted you to be much more than you appear,” the captain said, ignoring the lesser god’s question.
Olnos huffed. His chest looked as though it might collapse in on itself. “History ... is all-knowing ... but the present ... is forgetful.”
Kazuaki flicked his eyes to the sword. “Is that Brufesphe you clutch so tightly, old man?”
Olnos glowered, though his withered face already looked to house a permanent scowl. “I am no man.”
“I know what you are,” Kazuaki murmured. He reached out to grab the sword.
Skeletal fingers released the hilt and tangled around Kazuaki’s wrist. The captain looked unimpressed. He stared down at the lesser god, who trembled as he spoke. “Speak my name, young man.”
Kazuaki’s expression flattened further. Olnos’ grip felt cold on his skin. “I do not submit to orders.”
The lesser god struggled to inhale. His grip on Kazuaki’s wrist increased. “Speak my name. I beg you. Utter a small prayer unto me, and I shall give you Brufesphe.”
Brack stepped forward, unable to keep silent for longer than a few moments. “What’s it to you? You forget your own name?”
Olnos tried to raise his head, but it fell back against the unforgiving steel bed. “What I would give ... to hear a human speak my name ... to pray to me ... one more time.”
The crew stared at him. The picture that the words in the ancient book painted held no comparison to what laid before them. Shriveled and pathetic, a small part of them pitied Olnos’ current state. His fate on the cradle of steel was uncomfortable to look at. Doomed to live in weakness on a flat, metal plank, with nothing but the mountain wind for company, unable to even enjoy a peaceful death.
Kazuaki knew the perils of what Olnos suffered. He knew them well. But it did not earn the lesser god the immortal’s pity.
The captain leaned forward and lowered the hand Olnos gripped. He took up Brufesphe in his palm and with a forceful jerk, he ripped the sword from the lesser god’s grasp.
“Please,” Olnos pleaded a final time, trying to stretch his hand out to reach Kazuaki. He could not move from his metal prison. “Even once will be enough to restore me to dignity ...”
Kazuaki tightened his jaw. He stared at Olnos for a long time. After what felt like hours to the crew, the captain slid the sword into an empty sheath at his side, turned around, and started for the staircase.
The crew exchanged glances with one another, clinging to their pity until they ripped themselves away from Olnos’ presence. Their feet carried them after Kazuaki, careful as they descended the staircase.
“He seemed ... like he needed an assist,” Revi admitted as they trailed in a line down the steps.
“He’s a lesser god,” Kazuaki interjected. “He needs nothing from us.”
They walked in silence until they met the bottom of the stairs. Kazuaki continued toward the airship without looking back. When they arrived at the walkway to board the vessel, Brack placed a hand on the captain’s shoulder.
“Oi, Cappy—”
Kazuaki turned to face him.
“Look, mate, I’m not sayin’ I know what’s best, but,” he paused, looking over his shoulder in the direction Olnos was left, “that bugger did look a bit of a mess. Should we say a small prayer for him, do you think? I know gods is immortal and all that, but he looked in a great deal of pain to me.”
Kazuaki narrowed his gaze. He established his relationship with lesser gods when Mimir severed Bermuda’s hand and ripped his eye from his socket. The creatures were nothing but trouble. Beings that once served to honor humanity’s wishes fell away from Panagea for a reason. Any pity Brack harbored for Olnos was lost on the captain. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m not a religious man.”
Chapter Four
Prior promises carried Umbriel, Nicholai, and Avigail outside the Addihein house as soon as morning’s light pierced the windows. After a brief chat with Malcolm to ensure he’d keep watch over the homestead, they gathered everything they thought they’d need and pressed onward toward the Southern border.
Smoothed stones, worn down by years of wear, graced a majority of their journey. When coupled with the accommodating citizens that lived in the cities through which they weaved, the adventure was an easy one.
Day gave way to night without event. After slumbering in nearby inns along the way, the trio continued with only the sun and each other for company. The closer they came to the Southern border, the more the manmade structures gave way to the raw wilderness.
Nicholai’s division remained the one most covered in thick patches of trees, given his inability to reside outside his borders for longer than a day. He held on to the hope that one day he would have more time to re-forest outside of the Southeastern division, but he hadn’t yet discovered how to achieve the feat without risk. The Time Father never wished to put himself in a situation where he’d jeopardize the lives of his constituents again. He already felt he owed his people a debt for his past behavior.
Southern’s border rested beyond the small forest they found themselves in. Avigail walked closer to Nicholai than he would have preferred, as she had the entire journey, but his kindness allowed it without verbal protest.
As shadows from the treetops above blocked the sun’s light in waves, the young woman glanced around, enamored by her unusual surroundings.
The chirping of insects was a strange contrast to the whirs and clicks of machines. Singing birds, though small in numbers, still sounded odd when compared to the rattling bodies of passing steam cars. Avigail glanced over her shoulders and all around, absorbing the sights her new environment provided.
The towering trees were peculiar things. They commanded a lot of space, but she did not feel suffocated by their presence. On the contrary, she experienced irrevocable captivation.
Vibrant green mosses grew over shimmering remnants of metal. As Southeastern held no land untouched by structures, Nicholai had to make some decisions on where to invite forest growth. Buying citizens out of less populated, less successful small towns was the only fair option he arrived at. Rather than waste additional funds destroying the buildings that made up the smaller villages, the Time Father and Earth Mother let nature take over.
It was not hindered by homes or cobblestone streets. The perseverance of nature coexisted with its metal environment for several months before it dominated it entirely, enveloping abandoned steam cars, residential districts, factories, and city streets in earthen shades of greens, golds, and browns.
“You created all this?” Avigail asked, reaching her arm out to touch the rough bark of a tree trunk as they walked passed.
Nicholai stole a glimpse of her from the corner of his eye, too apprehensive of sending mixed signals to grant her his full attention. He fought off Avigail’s shameless advances since they had left the homestead days ago. “Umbriel and I both, yes. Nature and time ... it’s a bit of a team effort.”
Umbriel walked behind the pair, her eyes closed as she traipsed forward. She carried her boots in her hands, letting her bare feet grace the soft earth beneath her. The soles blocked the connectedness she shared with the terrain. She abandoned them at every opportunity. Though the Earth Mother pressed on with closed lids, she seemed to know each step with an intimacy lost on the two who used their eyes to walk.
“It’s stunning.” Avigail grabbed a branch and rubbed a leaf between her finger and thumb. It felt unlike anything she’d ever touched before. Soft. Textured. Alive. Each small vein running through the emerald foliage caressed her fingertips. She smiled. “It’s so different. From everything.”
“Funny,” Nicholai offered her half of a smile, “I’m sure Panagea felt the same way when men introduced indust
ry.”
“I applaud the change,” she said, trying to sound older than she was. “Panagea needed something different. It was so ... lifeless. Before you fixed it, I mean.”
Nicholai ducked to avoid a low-hanging branch. His boots crunched through dried leaves that blew across covered chunks of cobblestone. “Before we fixed it,” he corrected. “Your father was a big help, you know. Everyone in Kazuaki’s crew was.”
“Was he?” She rose her brows in mild suspicion. “When I first heard he was a part of the revolution, I have to admit, I had a hard time picturing the role he played.” She frowned. “After I recovered from the initial shock that he was alive, I mean.”
“He craved the change you applaud so much,” Nicholai said, pulling forth his memories of the events. “He never confirmed it out loud, but I know his drive to give you and your siblings a better world to live in was the only thing that fueled him most days.”
Avigail fell silent, but the moment did not last long. “I don’t remember much of him. I was only eight when he left.”
The trees thinned out. Clusters of plants thinned across the earth as they reached the edge of the small forest. Nicholai spied the next town over: Springden. Jodathyn’s new home town after he left the barren land of Avadon following the revolution. The town remained several hundred feet away. Plenty of room to expand the forest. Nicholai stopped, glancing over his shoulder at Umbriel.
As if she knew why he paused, she opened her eyes and greeted him with a smile. “Would you care to plant a little more before we carry on?” she asked.
The Southeastern Time Father returned her smile and nodded. As Umbriel summoned seeds from within herself and laid them down, Nicholai glanced again at Avigail. They hadn’t discussed Revi much since their departure. Or her abandonment. The topics carried an awkwardness with them. But given that he kept himself at arm’s distance from Avigail the entire trip, he did not want her to mistake his detachment for callousness. “That must have been hard. Eight is already a difficult age without throwing a missing parent on top of it.”
Nicholai shared her age when his mother passed. He tried not to think about it often, but whenever the topic surfaced organically, he remembered everything as if it happened yesterday.
Her expression fell, but she recovered. “It was no big deal. Mom was strong.”
Concern claimed Nicholai’s face. He tilted his head to the side. “Was?”
“Yeah,” Avigail cleared her throat and stood up straighter. “I mean ... she was until the city’s welfare personnel took the younger ones away. Dad’s leaving tore her up, but it didn’t destroy her. Losing Natty, Garin, and Yolsa did though.”
Though she hid them well behind the wall she built, Nicholai saw enough of her emotions to know that she had endured more than she spoke of. He almost reached a comforting hand out to place on her shoulder, but thought better of it and crossed his arms instead. “I’m sorry, Avigail.”
The young woman forced a smile. “It’s fine. I mean ... I wish I knew where they were. Or if they were still alive. I heard they were adopted ...” She shook her head. “It’s fine.”
Umbriel looked up from the seedlings she grew. They hovered near her ankles in height. “You had to grow up quite fast, didn’t you, Avigail?”
Nicholai stepped away and reached his hands out to the seeds. Avigail watched him, though she directed her words to Umbriel. “Best gift my dad ever gave me was forcing me to grow up. Panagea is a rough place.”
Nicholai relinquished his years to the plants. They rose, unhindered by the traditional rules of time. When the plants reached maturity, Nicholai dropped his hand back to his side. Avigail watched on, smitten.
“Nicholai,” she blushed when she said his name, as if the single word twisted her insides in a wonderful way, “that’s really amazing.”
The Southeastern Time Father winced when she said his name. She packed a lot of desire into that single word. He disguised his discomfort behind a compulsory smile. “Thank you, Avigail. Umbriel’s talent knows no bounds.”
The Earth Mother closed the short distance between herself and Nicholai and gently touched his shoulder to restore the years he gave to the plants.
Avigail flicked her eyes from Nicholai to Umbriel. Umbriel responded with a soft look. “All the world is a rough place, Avigail. You are fortunate to be so well adjusted. I know with my whole heart your father will find Panagea a little less rough when he’s blessed with the opportunity to see you again.”
Avigail blinked. She dropped her eyes to the ground once more. “Yes,” she replied, adjusting the pack she held over her shoulder. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t anxious to see him again too.”
“Well then,” Nicholai stole a final glimpse of the plants to assess how well they established themselves in their environment, “let’s hurry up to Southern and help Jodathyn. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get you back to your father.”
Avigail watched as Nicholai and Umbriel continued onward. It took her a moment, but an eventual push urged her feet to follow. “Yes,” she said again, though her agreement held anxiety inside it. “Can’t wait ...”
It took several long strides to close the distance, but the Time Father walked up to the edge of the Southeastern border. He stared into the city of Springden. It looked the part of an active municipality.
Men and women hurried around the cobblestone streets by foot, by bicycle, by steam car. Footmen directed traffic away from streets that still suffered from corrosion. Each division stretched its finances thin to repair everything affected by the disasters. Though citizens pitched in when and where they could, a lot of work remained.
Nicholai frowned. Guilt lived in his chest whenever he laid eyes on the devastating aftermath of Panagea’s past. It was with some luck he didn’t see much of it in Southeastern.
Then again, it was good to have a reminder every once in a while.
The Time Father sighed and pulled his Chronometer from inside his attire. He glanced down at the device, studying the time as he wound the top. Twenty four hours to find Jodathyn, grow his crops, and return to Southeastern’s border. He placed the object back into the safety of his shirt and took the first step into Springden.
“Nicholai,” Umbriel gestured to the side, “we have company.”
The man followed Umbriel’s hand to the objects that caught her attention. Three footmen approached from their right, slowly, until they recognized who emerged from Southeastern land, and broke out into a run.
Nicholai’s muscles tensed. A series of flashbacks triggered. The man took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to remember that the days of running from aggressive footmen were long behind him.
“Nicholai Addihein,” a footman called out, stopping to issue him a formal salute when he stood close enough, “Bartholomew Gray received word of your arrival. He has instructed us to escort you to Jodathyn Breed’s homestead.”
Avigail’s eyes brightened. She flicked her gaze to Nicholai, unable to temper her wide grin. “This is incredible. Do people always treat you like this?”
Nicholai removed his hat and bowed to the three footmen when they settled in front of him. He had no idea how Bartholomew learned of his arrival, but it did not surprise him. The scholar was full of insight. “Unnecessary, but appreciated, gentlemen.” He followed them as they turned, looking down at Avigail. “It’s a mixed bag, I’m afraid. Praises or death threats and little in between. Luckily, Bartholomew is a friend.”
Avigail followed with unbridled enthusiasm, besotted to taste a world beyond scrounging for scraps of food and a safe place to sleep. Umbriel sauntered behind, serene as she summoned and sprinkled wildflower seeds from her open palm.
The footmen stopped at a steam car. One crawled into the driver’s seat. A second offered a hand to Umbriel and Avigail to assist them into the vehicle. The third offered the remaining front seat to Nicholai, but he held up a hand.
“It’s fine, really,” he said as he climbed on the
back. His metal hand clanked when it gripped the vehicle’s frame. The first-class treatment felt strange to the Southeastern Time Father. Part of him missed the rough conditions Kazuaki forced him to adjust to. He felt more like himself then.
The footman shrugged and climbed into the passenger’s seat himself. The third joined Nicholai, hanging on the back. Without delay, the steam car carried them through the rugged streets of Springden.
Though nobody said much, the trip was far from quiet. Laborers shouted orders to one another as they ripped up decrepit chunks of road and laid new stone down. Steel beams raised with the help of machines, repairing the damaged buildings that didn’t survive the quakes. Patrons in the marketplace bustled through the collection of businesses, exchanging their hard-earned money for various goods.
Umbriel spied a horde of citizens clamoring around booths of fresh produce and herbs. She inhaled the scent of rosemary on the wind. It brought a smile to her face. “I see the people are enjoying the fruits of their labor,” she said to the driver.
The footman made a face as he weaved his way around a group of people. “A little too much at times. It’s hard for the farmers to keep up with the demand.”
Umbriel sat back in her seat and rested her hands in her lap. “Hopefully we can help a little with that while we’re here.”
“I hope so.” The driver turned, heading down a long road leading to Jodathyn’s homestead. The small structure was farther than others from Springden’s city center. “Jodathyn invested in all this land shortly after he left Avadon,” he explained, jostling up and down on the bumpy road. “He’s been struggling to find his fortune. Things aren’t as fertile out here as he thought, I wager.”
“It’ll take a while for the land to recover. Much poison remains in the soil, I’m afraid.” Umbriel looked over her shoulder at Nicholai as the sunlight struck her blowing, silver hair. She smiled. “But it’s nothing a little time can’t cure.”
The Panagea Tales Box Set Page 52