The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  Umbriel nodded, then shifted her attention to the immobile men. “What will we do with them?”

  The man that Umbriel subdued growled from his place on the ground. “You cannot run forever, Time Father. We are Darjal’s legion, and we will right your injustice so that our lord might shine his favor upon us.”

  Nicholai blinked. Memories of Darjal’s demise surfaced in his thoughts. The guilt. He lived with it daily. But the longer he stared at the man, the more his guilt turned into anger. Frustration. What would it take to finally be free of Darjal Wessex’ influence? He shook his head. It couldn’t have been the late Southern Time Father that threw these men in his path.

  Darjal Wessex was dead.

  Nicholai took several strides over to the man and knelt, resting his hands on his bent knees. “Who really sent you?” he asked, growing suspicious that angered laborers of Southern had crafted a resistance toward him that he did not know about.

  The man grinned as he struggled against the vines. “I was chosen by my Lord. The great Darjal Wessex.”

  “I see.” Nicholai’s brows furrowed together and he stood to his feet. Rather than speak of Darjal Wessex for another second, he looked to Umbriel. “Leave them,” he said as he turned and started toward the Southeastern forest.

  Surprise infected her expression. “Excuse me?” she asked, staring after him as he traipsed away.

  Nicholai stopped, though he did not turn to look at her. “Someone will come looking for them. They might go a bit hungry and thirsty until they’re found ... but someone will find them.”

  Concern spread across Umbriel’s face as Nicholai walked away. Avigail glanced at her once, then scurried after the Time Father. It was unlike Nicholai not to extend a compassionate hand, even to his enemies. His conduct worried her. Though she knew he was right that these men would be found within the day at the longest, something about the way Nicholai Addihein discarded them to their fate ate at her.

  The Time Father may not have believed the confessions that slipped from the mouths of their attackers, but Umbriel had her doubts. The men’s actions seemed disjointed. Unexpected. Applied by blind faith. It was a condition she’d seen before, a long, long time ago. A condition she knew Jodathyn fell to.

  Their thoughts were manipulated by omnipotent forces.

  The Earth Mother convinced her feet to follow, though it unsettled her. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. The return of the lesser gods was intended to be a positive thing. But with Jodathyn’s death and the new attack on Nicholai’s life, Umbriel found herself questioning the entire outcome of her efforts.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Firelight brought a sense of warmth and comfort to the shadows of the woodlands. Though the tall trees blocking the moon’s light seemed suffocating to some, Umbriel thrived in the environment. It was a great shame she was too burdened by worries to fully enjoy it.

  Nicholai sat on the ground, the orange glow molding around the surface of his face, as he assessed the liveliness of the flames. Avigail fell victim to sleep several feet away, a blanket from her pack wrapped tightly around her body.

  The scent of the blistered tomatoes and fire-roasted nuts they ate prior still clung to the air around them. It put Nicholai in mind of the time he spent with Penn aboard Kazuaki’s ship. The fleeting memory was a welcome distraction from the thoughts he carried with him after leaving Southern.

  Umbriel absorbed his dismal sensations. She felt them grow the farther they crept from Springden. The Earth Mother glanced at Avigail to be sure she found rest before she slid closer to her companion. “What happened back there, Nicholai?” She wanted to ask him for hours, but her own distractions diseased her courage. Seeing him now, like this, a victim to something she couldn’t pinpoint ... his distress overshadowed her own.

  The Time Father stared at the flames. Though the intensity of the fire burned his corneas, his deep contemplations dulled the irritating sensation. “I’m not sure. More hires from the blue bloods, perhaps. They’ve been after my head since their businesses—”

  “That’s not what I meant,” she interrupted, tilting her head to the side. “Nicholai, in all the time I’ve known you, to leave someone like that ... in that situation ... it’s unlike you.”

  He managed to rip his concentration from the fire but still couldn’t face her. His eyes closed, but he still saw the flickering flames burned into his lids. “I’m sorry, Umbriel. I know. I ... I can’t explain it.”

  She placed a soft hand on his leg. “Try.”

  Nicholai opened his eyes and stared down at her fingers. The Earth Mother’s classic calm radiated from her palm. He felt the tensed muscles in his shoulders ease. “It’s ... a bit humiliating,” he confessed.

  She smiled. “I harbor no judgment, Nicholai. I only wish to help if I can.”

  He swallowed. In his discomfort, a dim chuckle escaped his lips. “I’ve ... had dark thoughts, as of late. Voices that whisper unflattering things. I thought, perhaps, they would fade when I had more time to adjust to Lilac’s passing, but ...” He shrugged. “They only seem to speak louder. Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

  Umbriel’s expression transcended into concern. “Not at all.”

  “When they spoke of Darjal,” Nicholai slid his hands through his hair, stopping at his ears, as if he tried to block out a voice he didn’t want to listen to, “it triggered something in me. Guilt, I guess. I don’t know. I still can’t forgive myself for killing him, Umbriel.”

  She watched as he writhed in contempt. It pained her. Though she couldn’t know for certain, she feared she knew the source of his voices. Not unlike the men who attacked them, Nicholai’s mental anguish had the markings of a lesser god’s work. Whispering words into the minds of men was a skill possessed by many.

  She didn’t want him to find out about the lesser gods like this. The lesser gods she invited back. She wanted to tell him after moments of prosperity. After the omnipotent beings showed kindness and fortune to the people they used to adore.

  But to witness the man she loved die on the inside ... she couldn’t do it. Though she feared the repercussions, Umbriel inhaled and uttered, “I know how Jodathyn died.”

  As if it took a moment to absorb her declaration, Nicholai craned his neck toward her. “What did you say?”

  “I thought—” She paused, her fingers unconsciously curling into her palms, “I thought the return of the lesser gods would be a positive thing, Nicholai. I still think it can be. They used to love humans. But ...” She closed her eyes. “Jodathyn died by his own hand. But it was Havidite who compelled him to do it.”

  Havidite. The name did not ring any bells. Nicholai’s eyes narrowed as he glanced over his shoulder to be sure Avigail still slept. He turned back to the Earth Mother and lowered his voice. “What are you saying, Umbriel? Did Jodathyn die by suicide or not?”

  “Yes and no.” She sat, enduring his judgmental stare as punishment for her actions. “I found red anemone flowers under and around Jodathyn’s body. The flower grows where blood is spilled in exchange for Havidite’s favor. As the Goddess of Harvest, I have no doubt he summoned her to escalate the success of his crops. I’m sorry, Nicholai. I should have told you sooner.”

  The Time Father turned away, his pupils darting around the darkness as he tried to comprehend her admission. He knew of lesser gods. Mimir, at least. Conversations with the members of Kazuaki’s crew illuminated minimal knowledge on the subject, but he never fully bought into the fairytale. The world persisted without gods since his childhood and long before. A godless world was the only reality he knew. “Why would Jodathyn—why would she kill him?” he asked, attempting to piece the puzzle together before Umbriel responded.

  The Earth Mother sighed and withdrew her hand from his leg. “The lesser gods cannot harm mortals. But they do have the ability to enhance thoughts men and women harbor within themselves. Even if a small shred of Jodathyn was willing to lay down his life for his family’s benefit, Havidite has
the power to make that thought dominate his brain. I can only speculate, but ... I’m fairly certain that’s what happened. In his mind, he gave his life for his wife and children’s prosperity.”

  “Feckin’ hell, Umbr—” Nicholai raised his voice but stopped himself when he remembered Avigail slumbered only several feet away. He rubbed his face with his hands and dropped his tone. “Why didn’t you tell me when we were there?”

  Her shoulders tensed. “I did not want you to think that the lesser gods returning would be a bad thing.”

  “Well, it doesn’t seem to be going in a very progressive direction so far,” he whispered, frustrated more with the knowledge that she hid something from him, rather than the reemergence of old deities.

  “Nicholai, please forgive me for not telling you sooner. I didn’t want to believe it, myself.” She studied him, contemplating how far she should go with her confession. But she couldn’t leave him in the dark. “Your voices ... the ones that haunt your mind ... I suspect they arise from a lesser god, as well.”

  Nicholai pinched his lips together. He nodded, contemptuous. “Of course they are. It’s not enough to have Panagea’s elites and a handful of commoners commissioning assassination attempts. Might as well throw an omnipotent being or two in there.”

  The woman frowned in the face of his sarcasm. “This is nothing to joke about, Nicholai. The lesser gods may not be able to issue physical harm, but they are powerful creatures.”

  “Oh?” He picked up a small twig from the ground, inspected it, and threw it into the fire, unable to look at her. “Then why did you think their return would be a positive thing?”

  She noticed he held to his anger but did not blame him for his frustration. “Their presence used to bring greatness. I had hoped it would again.”

  Nicholai found her eyes in the darkness. “A man is dead, Umbriel. Where is the greatness in that?”

  The Earth Mother maintained his gaze. She tightened her jaw. “I need them, Nicholai.”

  “For what?”

  “To restore what was taken from Panagea hundreds of years ago,” she admitted, sliding her hands into her lap. “To restore what was taken from me hundreds of years ago.”

  Something in her tone softened his resentment. Nicholai searched her face, finding nothing but determined resolve. He cleared his throat, feeling remorseful at the attitude he had just taken with her. “Could you please elaborate?” he asked, calmer.

  Umbriel sighed. “I did not want to come across as selfish, but ...” She rubbed her arms as a cool breeze chilled her. “Time Fathers and Earth Mothers share an intimate history with the lesser gods. It has since faded from the memories of most, but, your Chronometers ... they were hand-forged by the lesser gods. An indestructible gift to mankind. After men birthed the deities, they prayed to them for everything. Food. Shelter. Health. Prosperity. The deities rejoiced. They lived in harmony. The Chronometers were a grand gesture ... to let men know the gods trusted them with one of the most important components of living: time, itself.”

  Nicholai arched a brow. He learned more about the Time Fathers from Umbriel than he ever had from history books or his father. Though he struggled to believe her in the past, he accepted her revelations without hesitation now. She lived through that time. She knew. “Indestructible, huh?” He wrinkled his nose. “I guess all those classes I took on Chronometer maintenance were for naught ...”

  Though she knew he joked in response to situations that unnerved him, Umbriel found no humor in the scenario. “Time Fathers will always exist. You will continue to pass the Chronometer down from one man to the next. But Earth Mothers ... our bond with the deities is not rooted in an object. We are not indestructible.”

  She looked gutted. It hurt Nicholai to look at her. Umbriel always maintained a picture of self-assurance, but she appeared to wither into herself the more she spoke. He slid his hand across the forest floor until he touched her finger. “I know you’re the last one. That must be a lot of pressure, especially given the condition Panagea is in.”

  “Yes.” She took a deep breath into her lungs, finding small comfort in his touch. “And I will be the last until the end of my life. Unless the lesser gods return. Time Fathers are born of their Chronometer. But Earth Mothers are only born when lesser gods join bodies with mortals. We are their blood.”

  Nicholai’s eyes widened. “You—you’re saying ... your parents are—”

  “A mortal man ... and a goddess.”

  The Time Father shifted his position. It was no wonder Umbriel remained the last of her kind. Without lesser gods to fill the wombs of mortals, or vice-versa, no new Earth Mothers could be birthed. It struck him now, why their return held such importance to her. He closed his eyes, feeling like even more of an ass for berating her before. “I’m sorry, Umbriel. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay,” she whispered, sliding her hand closer to his. “I should have told you sooner.”

  Though he now knew the circumstances of Umbriel’s past and what she hoped to accomplish in her future, it seemed her plans went astray. Nicholai stole a glimpse of her from the corners of his eyes. “I know your intentions were good,” he admitted, “but so far, Umbriel, I must say, they do not seem to look favorably on humanity.”

  “I did not think it would go this way,” she admitted as she lifted her chin to the stars. “They used to love humans so much. I did not think they would cling to their grudge so tightly.”

  Nicholai returned his attention to the fire. He watched the flames in silence. The lesser gods were, perhaps, allowed to feel slighted, if men truly did discard them when they ran their course of usefulness. It was not a flattering thing to be forgotten, particularly when they gave much of themselves for nothing more than words. But whether their sentiments were rational or not, Nicholai feared for Panagea’s people. Even if the lesser gods were incapable of slaughtering men physically, they seemed to have no issues accomplishing their goal of punishment. “How far will they take this?” he dared to ask, shifting to face Umbriel.

  The Earth Mother stared ahead, her eyes vacant. “I don’t know.”

  An uncomforting response. Nicholai took a chance by asking a second question. “Is there anything we can do?”

  Umbriel locked into his stare. She wanted to project confidence. Powerful calm. Like always. But all she did when she looked into his questioning eyes was admit the truth. “I don’t know.”

  Chapter Seven

  It took effort to exude calm while the trio made their way back to Nenada. Umbriel and Nicholai did not speak again of deities. Avigail occasionally voiced her concerns about leaving Jodathyn’s family. Swift and thoughtful responses from Nicholai eased her worries, but not her questions.

  How often did men attack him, like those in Southern?

  How many times did he leave Southeastern?

  Was it always for business or pleasure?

  How hard was it to run an entire division?

  Nicholai tried to find Avigail’s behavior complimentary, but questions that began as nothing more than curious inquiries evolved, bringing more uncomfortable undertones.

  Was there anybody he missed while he was away from his home?

  She knew it was rare for a Time Father to take on a lover due to their political responsibilities claiming most of their time. Her limited knowledge of Panagea’s history told her most ruling division leaders preferred the simplicity of celibacy. They were married to their responsibilities and nothing else. Did Nicholai support the controversial theory that a man of power could have the best of both worlds?

  Did he see himself in a relationship at any point soon?

  He deflected most of her questions with obscure responses. The Southeastern Time Father sighed with relief when they approached the end of their journey. He spotted Kazuaki’s airship across the distance, sitting in its designated spot near Nicholai’s home. His legs were tired, but not as tired as his mouth and mind from answering Avigail’s endless series of interrogations
.

  “Home.” Umbriel exhaled, setting the primary concerns at the forefront of her mind aside as she walked past Nicholai and Avigail to find Revi. She headed straight for the building constructed near Nicholai’s home where the crew dwelled during their interims in Southeastern. They were never far from Nicholai’s reach in the event he needed them to ward off any assassination attempts.

  Avigail watched her go, extending a hand out to grab Nicholai’s arm before he followed. “Nicholai,” the Houton girl cleared her throat and summoned courage. A final question lived inside her, one she waited to ask the entire trip, but feared the answer. “Are ... are you and Umbriel—um ...”

  The Southeastern Time Father grew rigid under her touch. His perceptiveness broadened with his age. He knew what she tried to ask, but it did not make it any less embarrassing. It seemed however he replied, he doomed himself one way or another. “No, Avigail,” he said, favoring the truth despite his apprehension she might misinterpret it as an open invitation. “Umbriel is a dear companion, nothing more.”

  The news made her smile. Nicholai forced a similar expression and carefully pulled his arm away to follow the Earth Mother. A quick assessment let him know Nenada seemed no worse for the wear since their departure a week ago. Life carried on as usual.

  Nicholai wished to issue a letter to Bartholomew to be sure someone found the three men they left on the Southern/Southeastern border. But Umbriel’s reemergence caused him to put that on hold. She dragged Revi behind her, holding his sleeve as he trailed after, confused and irritated.

  “That was quick,” Nicholai uttered, watching as Kazuaki, Bermuda, Granite, Brack, Penn, and the dog emerged from the homestead where the crew housed themselves. They appeared as perplexed as Revi Houton, who rested in the comfort of a chair until Umbriel had burst in, and pulled him from his peaceful place.