Avigail spied the smile the Earth Mother issued to Nicholai and subconsciously pressed her lips together. Undeniable affection subsisted in that smile. It made her stomach do an unwelcome flip. Determined to squash her unflattering feelings, she turned her attention back to the front of the steam car, catching sight of Jodathyn’s house. It was not all she saw. Avigail squinted at the frantic movement ahead. “Who’s that?” she asked, staring at the figure running toward them.
The driver frowned and slowed the vehicle to a crawl on the edge of Jodathyn’s driveway. Tabitha sprinted forward, a dark stain of red soiling her white dress.
The footman stood from his spot in the driver’s seat and shouted toward her, “Mrs. Breed? Are you all right?”
“Jodathyn!” she screamed as she hurled herself onto the hood of the steam car. Blood smeared across the vehicle’s cover, transferred from her soiled hands. “It’s Jodathyn! Thank the gods you’re here!”
Tabitha was difficult to understand through her hysteria. Nicholai and the footmen exited the car and approached her while Umbriel and Avigail leaned forward in their seats. Everyone looked on, alarmed.
“Mrs. Breed, please, calm down.” The driver placed his hands on her shoulders as he tried to soothe her. He forced himself to keep his attention on her and not the obvious crimson stains covering her clothing. “What happened to Jodathyn?”
“He’s dead!” she squealed, swollen red eyes leaking countless tears. “He’s dead, he’s dead, in the garden!”
The driver motioned to the other two footmen to investigate. They nodded, unsheathing their falchions as they broke out into a run toward Jodathyn’s homestead.
“Now, deep breaths, Mrs. Breed, we’re going to take care of you.” The driver rubbed her upper arms for comfort as he attempted to find her eyes. “We’re going to take care of this, okay, love?”
Tabitha gasped for breath. While it was difficult for her to control her emotions, she forced herself to nod. Nicholai stole a glimpse of Umbriel, his face concerned. “We should check it out too,” he announced. He turned back to Tabitha, pulling forth the memory of Jodathyn’s youngsters when he last saw them in Avadon’s slums. “Mrs. Breed, where are the children?”
The frenzied woman sobbed as she looked back toward her house. “They’re inside—Idie was so excited to tell him you were coming, Mr. Addihein—” Her voice cracked. She fell apart. Her knees buckled, and the driver caught her in his arms. “Idie found him, Mr. Addihein—she found him like that—”
Nicholai lowered a sympathetic stare to her. He gazed out to the garden, his eyes falling on the tall, flourishing crops. They did not look like crops that needed any assistance from the Time Father and Earth Mother, but he did not wish to upset Tabitha further with questions. “We’ll help you gather the children and get you all a safe place to sleep tonight.”
“Of course,” Umbriel agreed as she slid herself out of the steam car. She approached Tabitha, still held up by the footman. The Earth Mother leaned over, trying to find the wild woman’s eye level before she rested gentle hands on her tear-stained cheeks. “It’s going to be all right, Tabitha.” She brushed a new tear away with her thumb. “Everything is going to be all right.”
Tabitha’s eyes darted back and forth over Umbriel’s tranquil face. The Earth Mother’s otherworldly aura softened her and she eased into the footman’s arms. “I don’t know how this happened,” she whispered.
Satisfied she was able to calm her, even to a minor degree, Umbriel straightened her posture. “We’ll figure it out,” she reassured her. “I promise.”
The footman exchanged concerned glances with Nicholai before he helped Tabitha into the car beside Avigail. Nicholai motioned Umbriel to follow as they trekked the rest of the way to Jodathyn’s homestead on foot, the steam car trailing slowly beside them.
By the time they arrived, the other two footmen had gathered Jodathyn’s children out front. They all looked dismayed, which paled in comparison to the horror that lived in Idie’s face. Her eyes looked as though they relived the moment she found him, over and over.
Nicholai remembered the look. It was the same one Rennington had for weeks following Iani’s death.
Avigail exited the vehicle and helped, trying to sooth the kids with kind words. They reminded her of her siblings, prior to all of them being taken away. Similar ages. They were easy to talk to. Avigail was accustomed to speaking with scared children. That’s all she and her siblings ever were after Revi left.
Nicholai pulled the driver aside as the other footmen loaded the children into the car. “Take them to a good bed and breakfast,” Nicholai whispered, handing the footman a satchel of coins. Though the currency belonged to the Southeastern division, the exchange rate would still insure them several weeks in a comfortable room. “Alert Bartholomew that my presence will be shorter than anticipated. He may also wish to send word to Emont of Southwestern. I know he and Jodathyn were friends ...”
The footman nodded. “Right away, Mr. Addihein. We’ll send the steam car back to retrieve you as soon as we find them suitable accommodations. Are you going to be okay here until we return?”
“Yes, yes, we’ll be fine,” Nicholai waved his concern away with his mechanical wrist. “We’ll take a look around the property in the meantime. See if we can’t figure out what happened. But don’t worry about returning. We’ll find our way back.”
The footman did not look convinced. “Are you sure, Mr. Addihein?”
“It’s fine, really,” Nicholai patted the man on the shoulder. “It’ll take time for you to locate proper housing and even more time to make Bartholomew aware of the goings-on. I’ll need to return to Southeastern before then. We’ll head back after we’re through here.”
The footman stiffened. Nicholai knew he mulled around in his mind whether Bartholomew would be upset at their abandonment of the Southeastern Time Father, but he was right. It would take a while to get Mrs. Breed and the children settled, and even longer to secure a meeting with the Southern Time Father. “Fair enough. My apologies for the inconvenience, Mr. Addihein.” The footman bowed and jumped into the steam car, turning it around to guide it back toward Springden’s center.
Nicholai watched until it faded from his vision. He sighed, removing his hat to run his fingers through his hair and collect his thoughts.
Avigail watched, unsure of herself. She took several cautious steps toward him. “I ... I’m really sorry,” she started. “Was he a good friend of yours?”
Nicholai held fast to his hat. His memories of Jodathyn were fleeting. He remembered their first encounter, when the man tried to rob them of their money in Avadon’s abandoned factory. The first one they brought plant life into. But that memory was not who Jodathyn was. They spent a lot of time together building up the people of Avadon’s slums. Jodathyn took over for Emont when he followed the crew to Southwestern. He did what needed to be done, whether or not he had the skills to do so. Nicholai returned his hat to his head and tilted his neck back to look up at the sky. “Good enough that the world will suffer from the loss of him,” he said. “Jodathyn made some mistakes. But he was a decent man.”
Umbriel took quiet steps away from Nicholai and Avigail. She walked backward until the height of Jodathyn’s crops brushed up against her spine. The Earth Mother turned, disappearing into the thriving harvest. Her bare feet crept across the soil, silent as the dirt squeezed through her toes.
It didn’t take her long to find him. Umbriel gazed at Jodathyn’s fallen body and felt remorse that his young child discovered him like this. She crept toward him and knelt, extending a hand to touch his skin. Cold. He fell victim to death in the early morning hours.
Umbriel inhaled and closed her eyes, whispering a quiet prayer for his soul. When she opened them again, a burst of redness fell into her vision. She took it for a tomato at first, but upon further inspection, she discovered it was not. Her eyes narrowed. She reached forward and placed her fingers around the flower’s stem before s
he plucked it from the earth.
Umbriel held it in her fingers for several minutes. With her free hand, she grasped Jodathyn’s shoulder, and with respect for the dead, she gently moved him aside.
Beneath him, growing in all the places where his blood stained the earth, more sprouts of scarlet anemone flowers emerged. She stood, slow in her movements, her stare affixed to the red petals. Her fingers curled tighter around the anemone flower until it pressed into her palm. The Earth Mother’s face fell. She knew then what initiated the end of Jodathyn Breed’s life.
“Havidite ...”
Chapter Five
“I hope the weakness of your soldiers is not a reflection of your leadership, Jernal.”
The commander straightened after Darjal’s criticism and glanced over his shoulder. Yaurel and Braser were long gone. They ran, abandoning him to the lesser god who appeared out of nothing but mock prayer.
Jernal grimaced. He understood their apprehension. The Northern division did not familiarize themselves with gods. Nordjan took whatever measures he needed to be sure they fell from the peoples’ memories during his decades as their ruler. Jernal was more comfortable with the concept; as a man of Southern, his entire life was fixated around the idea Darjal was a god.
But even Jernal had a difficult time absorbing the sight before him.
“You must forgive me, my Lord,” Jernal shifted, unable to remove his cautious eyes from Darjal. “It’s ... unsettling ... to see a man come back to life.”
Darjal scoffed. He turned, motioning for Jernal to follow him. “Men don’t come back from the dead, Jernal. I was a god to Southern then, and I remain a god now.”
Jernal followed though he wasn’t sure why. An ethereal aura from Darjal pulled him forward. A part of him was certain he wanted to follow, but a larger portion remained apprehensive.
Though Jernal was a religious man, he never considered Darjal’s claims to godliness to be truthful. He honored the late Southern Time Father as a god during his reign, the tale was tough to swallow in its entirety. There was something about omnipotence that mortal men seemed too insignificant to touch, regardless of how many years they pounded such claims into one’s mind. “What ... what have you been doing, then? It’s approaching a year since your death.”
Darjal continued walking, directing his words to Jernal without turning his head. “I’ve been fueling on the prayers of Southern citizens. The more they whisper my name, the stronger I grow.” A smug grin claimed his face. “I am the most present in peoples’ memories. These archaic gods that dwell in the shadows ... they are nothing more than garbage. Weak from years of absence. It pains me to even share a label with them.”
Jernal studied Darjal as he walked behind him, still uncertain whether he hallucinated his presence or had gone mad. “You’re saying there are others? Beyond you and Mimir?”
“Countless,” Darjal huffed. “Every lesser god or goddess who has ever gained enough energy through prayer. It takes many voices ... but soon the whispers become words and the words become roars. After enough time passes, all gods ever hear are the voices of the people out there, begging for their assistance.”
The soldier tried to wrap his brain around it, but he only shook his head. “It sounds maddening.”
“It is.”
“Do you answer their prayers, then?” Jernal asked, curious as to whether death changed Darjal’s attitude toward humanitarianism.
The lesser god balked at the inquiry. “I’m far too busy with my own concerns to pay heed to theirs.”
While the encounter with Darjal came as a huge surprise, his admission to negligence did not. It seemed even in death, the late Southern Time Father remained the same. “What concerns are those?” Jernal asked, too uncomfortable with silence to allow any to linger.
Darjal stopped. His eyes turned to slits as he swung back to face Jernal. “Nicholai Addihein.”
The commander bristled under Darjal’s intense stare. Not much existed that Jernal shied away from, but he found himself taking a step back. “Still?” he dared to ask. Jernal knew of Darjal’s hatred for the Southeastern Time Father. He followed that hatred across the ocean in an ironclad.
“Still, indeed,” Darjal seethed, his shoulders ruffling at the rage that crawled through his body. “The man is a sinner. He betrayed his division by stopping his time, and he betrayed Southern by smothering their god. The mighty shall smite the wicked if the world is to make any sense at all.”
Jernal cleared his throat. “I haven’t been on Panagea’s soil for months now, my Lord, but I do not think your death is something he brags about. To be honest, I thought it was Kazuaki Hidataka who ended your life.”
“Your thoughts are irrelevant, Jernal.” Darjal turned away from him, returning to his quest of leading him through the terrain. “Kazuaki Hidataka is venom, but Nicholai Addihein is the snake.”
The two men continued to cut through their surroundings. Jernal kept an even pace behind. He studied the back of Darjal’s head, trying to figure him out. “With all due respect, Lord Wessex ... if you’ve achieved as much power as you claim to have gained through the Southern peoples’ prayer, what stops you from killing Nicholai Addihein? I thought lesser gods were—”
“Lesser gods cannot alter mankind’s free will,” Darjal interrupted with poison in his tone. “It’s a foolish law. A law I found I am unable to alter, despite my best efforts. I am no sooner able to issue him physical harm, as he is able to issue physical harm unto me.”
It took an effort to process everything Darjal told him. Jernal swatted more bugs away as he traipsed farther toward the destination the lesser god led him to. The experience remained surreal, but duty compelled Jernal to suspend his disbelief. If Darjal led him to Mimir’s well, it would satisfy Nordjan. Perhaps, then, he could return to his family with the wealth the Northern Time Father promised him, retire, and forget this lunacy.
Though instinct instructed him to keep his mouth shut, Jernal could not fully abandon his inquisitiveness. It helped to know Darjal was incapable of issuing him bodily harm. Without the risk of injury to stop him, he couldn’t help but pry further. “If you cannot hurt him, how do you intend to end him?”
“All in due time, Jernal. Soon, everything will become clear.”
It was a disturbing reply. “Forgive me for asking, my Lord. The whole situation ... it’s just ... I’m trying to understand it all—”
“The minds of mortals are limited. If you knew everything the lesser gods did, you would collapse under the weight of your intellect.” Darjal peered up at the sky. “But those limited, weak minds are easy to mold. Easy to exploit.” He stopped again and turned to face Jernal. “Do you know how many terrible thoughts creep through the dim corners of human brains?”
Jernal halted. A murky feeling in his stomach boiled from Darjal’s stare. “I have an idea,” he admitted, having seen mankind’s darkness on the battlefield before.
Darjal’s expression warped into a distasteful glare. There were not enough of those thoughts in the Southeastern Time Father. Darjal tried to whisper countless times across the expanse into Nicholai’s mind, tried to breed discontent in him. Tried to emphasize any dark thought he might possess. His efforts to manufacture malevolence were unsuccessful, and they would continue to be until Darjal could locate his physical body. Until then, the connection remained too weak for victory.
The commander stared, unable to rip his gaze away from Darjal’s maniacal eyes. “Well, if it’s any consolation,” he muttered, “there’s no shortage of people who’d like to see the Southeastern Time Father’s head on a pike. Panagea’s society of elites is pretty pissed he severed a lot of their industrial ties with all the businesses that fell.”
Darjal sneered. “Then it will be easier than I thought. As soon as Kazuaki Hidataka is out of the way, he will fall.”
It made sense now. Darjal only helped Jernal to satisfy his own agenda. With Mimir freed from the well, he could settle his debt with Kazuaki Hi
dataka. And with the captain gone ...
“Now,” Darjal spat and turned away, “enough mindless chatter. Mimir’s well is on the other side of the island. If you intend to make it there by nightfall, you’ll have to pick up the pace.”
Jernal frowned as he followed Darjal again. “Even if we find him in good time, it’ll take me all night to return to the ship. I’m not even sure Yaurel and Braser won’t have left without me by then.”
An eerie smirk spread across Darjal’s lips. “Leave the soldiers to me.”
Something about the way he said it made the hair on Jernal’s arms rise. But the lesser god’s confidence assured him he’d have a way back to Panagea, so he chose not to question it. With an incredible tolerance, and a desire to absorb everything he’d fallen into, Jernal convinced his legs to keep moving. One step closer to freedom. One step closer to a worry-free life for his family.
The rest of the journey was long and quiet. Though they suffered limited setbacks, it still took what felt like countless hours to reach their destination. Darjal’s guidance was merciless. He labored across the island without breaks, seeming to take no qualms in the rigorous expedition.
Jernal, however, agonized from the arduous trip. His mortal limbs screamed in protest with each new stride. His muscles begged him to stop. To rest. But he feared if he did not keep up with the pace Darjal set, the lesser god might infect his mental integrity. It wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.
Though Jernal grew to favor the silence over Darjal’s heavy conversation, he delighted in the next sentence uttered by the lesser god.
“We’ve arrived.”
The soldier narrowed his eyes, trying to will his vision to work better in the darkness that surrounded them. A barren land greeted him, with only raw, gnarled shapes poking up from the dry ground. The well appeared only as a shadow in his night blindness, but the shape was unmistakable.
The Panagea Tales Box Set Page 53