The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  “No,” Jernal rattled the handle harder before he cleared his throat and regained his composure. “No, I’m sure he’s just ... elsewhere. A Time Father never wanders far.”

  Darjal huffed, impatient.

  Jernal turned on his heel, preparing to find another footman who could explain Nordjan’s location. Before he walked down the hall, he spied a man peering out from around the corner of the corridor, watching the three with keen suspicion.

  “You there,” Jernal addressed, taking several long strides toward the footman, “where is Nordjan?”

  The soldier became rigid when he found himself under the scrutiny of the trio’s stares. “H-he’s gone, Commander. There was a last-minute meeting that called him away to Panagea’s center. He did not go into detail.”

  Jernal’s face fell. It did not take an intelligent man to know meetings at Panagea’s center only occurred when all division leaders needed to be present. Whatever called Nordjan there had to be serious. He had hunted Mimir for many months, absent from Panagea. Something must have gone awry in that time frame.

  “Did he say how long he’d be gone?” Jernal asked, knowing the traditional time constraints did not affect Nordjan as long as his feet remained inside the Northern border.

  The soldier ripped his eyes away from Mimir and turned to Jernal once more. “He did not, Commander.”

  Despite his best efforts, a small groan escaped Jernal’s lips. He forced himself to turn to the lesser gods in his company. “We should wait for him to return,” he muttered, summoning the necessary resolve to remain in their presence longer than he wanted. “He shouldn’t be gone long.”

  Mimir shot out an arm and gripped Jernal’s wrist. “Nonsense,” he whispered, wrapping his fingers around the commander’s skin as a slow grin divided his face. “The Time Fathers and Time Mother gather at Panagea’s heart. And where there is Nicholai Addihein, Kazuaki Hidataka will not be far behind.”

  Alarmed eyes fell on Mimir. Jernal lifted his hand to rest it on his temple. How did Mimir know the existing division leaders would gather there? How did he know there was now a Time Mother? Did he pry it from his thoughts? Had he been able to comb through his internal dialogue this entire time with just a touch? Perhaps more disturbing, did Darjal share the same ability? He shifted an apprehensive gaze over to the late Southern Time Father.

  Darjal met Jernal’s eyes with disdain and nothing else.

  The soldier did not know if Darjal’s malice stemmed from anything other than his usual disgust. Either way, his stomach churned at the sight. “I disagree,” he uttered, at last able to summon words from his throat. “It’ll be more efficient if we wait. We could miss him en route if he’s already on his way back.”

  “You forget, Commander,” Mimir craned a disproportionate neck to his traveling companion, “you did not free me to wait for Nordjan. You freed me to lay claim over our friend, the captain.”

  Jernal held his ground, though Mimir’s intense stare and inhuman voice urged him to withdraw. He knew now which version of the lesser god he preferred. The erratic form was much less chilling.

  “It pains me to say, but I agree with the creature,” Darjal muttered. He needed Nicholai. Thoughts of his suffering plagued him, consumed him. Darjal needed the egregious error to be corrected. The immoral must agonize for their sins. Punishing Nicholai Addihein was his destiny, and he ached to fulfill it. “Come, Mimir,” Darjal walked, carrying himself toward the exit. “I know exactly where the Time Fathers meet.”

  Mimir slithered after him without fail. He knew Jernal would follow. He had to. Until he fulfilled his debt, the commander belonged to him.

  Jernal observed them go, watching as his only chance at proving Mimir had been returned to Panagea slipped through his fingers. He needed to present him to Nordjan. He had to prove he had completed his mission. Nordjan did not seem the type to settle for words alone.

  He took one step toward the duo when the other soldier’s hand flew up to stop him. “What are you doing, Commander? Let them go.”

  Jernal looked down at the hand on his chest. He felt a small relief. That hand was an excuse, a perfect thing he could latch on to and breathe in the logic it tried to shove into his body. But Jernal knew the relief would be short-lived. Regret would soon replace it. No loose ends. He couldn’t retire with a job half done.

  “This is my last mission, soldier,” Jernal pushed the man’s hand aside, staring after his traveling companions. “I have to see this through.”

  Chapter Ten

  The airship ride to Panagea’s center struck Nicholai harder than he thought it would. It brought with it many memories of the past. Though clouds replaced the waves that lapped against the ship’s edge, it put him in mind of the countless days spent on the captain’s now-sunken vessel.

  They had not begun as easy days, but he found himself missing them.

  The feeling of trepidation that stemmed from crawling closer to Panagea’s heart, however, was a feeling he did not miss. The ravaged lands lived as a constant reminder of every awful thing the last year birthed. He clutched a breathing mask to his face as his eyes struggled to see passed the surrounding mist.

  Things looked small down there. But the devastation was monumental. The efforts put into restoration had been great in all divisions, but what took months to damage would take years to rebuild. As the airship trailed through the Southeastern border, Nicholai felt the familiar guilt rise in his chest and throat. It was never far from his thoughts.

  Though the feelings that rose from staring at the ruin mocked him, he preferred it to the painful awkwardness of eavesdropping on Revi and Avigail. He drew in a deep breath of oxygen. The wind against his ears blocked some of their discussion from him, but he wished it blocked more. Despite his effort to tune them out, occasional pieces of their conversation broke through the powerful gusts.

  “So ... did you ... finish your schooling, then?” Revi asked as he sat on a crate.

  Avigail rested across from him, one of her legs crossed over the other. She arched a brow, unimpressed with his attempt at making small talk. “The volunteers in the home didn’t have much time to educate us. There were sixty children for every one volunteer.”

  “You were sent to a home?” Revi took on a look of dejected failure. “Did you at least get to board with your brothers and sisters?”

  “No.” Her words were blunt and they cut like a knife. “Natty, Garin, and Yolsa were taken away. I heard they were adopted by some rich broad who couldn’t have her own children.” She leaned back on the crate and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “The rest of us were too old, I guess. Jacob and Amadeu went to Yiddleton’s Home for Wayward Boys, and I went to Edephat’s Home for Girls.”

  Her confession created more discomfort in her father, but he tried to disguise his remorse. Though her words pained him, Revi delighted in the fact that she talked to him at all. Getting Avigail to open up proved to be a difficult task.

  “No shame in growing up in a home,” Penn chimed in as he set a box of supplies onto a nearby barrel.

  Avigail adopted a look of mild irritation. “What do you know of it?”

  Penn’s gaze flat-lined into classic annoyance. He abandoned his chore and approached her, bending over to rest his palms on his knees. He met her eyes and leaned in, lingering a foot away from her face. “I know the sounds,” he started. “I know the cries of hungry children echoing off paper-thin walls at night. But they don’t cry for food. Their bellies are hungry, sure, but they’re starved more for attention than meals. They get their three squares a day. Mostly spoiled shit donated by those who want to feel good about themselves, so they send it to the home instead of the trash so they can pat themselves on the back.

  “I know the taste. I remember every bite of boiled garbage I ate, risen to temperature to kill any bacteria, slapped onto a dirty plate and thrust into the shaking hands of terrified children with no appetite.

  “I remember the smell. The blankets smeare
d with feces because the elder kids gotta share them with the babies who are too young to piss and shit in the latrines. No money for diapers and only scratchy paper to wipe their asses with. No rest, on account of you’re afraid to roll over on the little ones and accidentally suffocate them in their sleep.

  “And the touch. The cold iron bed frames and pointy feckin’ mattress springs that gutted you if you rolled over on them wrong, because the cloth they laid over it was so damn thin you felt every coil. And that was if you were lucky enough to even get a bed that night.

  “Then there were the sights. But you know the sights can’t be described with human words, don’t you, kid?”

  Avigail stared at Penn, wide-eyed. She only nodded once.

  Penn huffed and straightened his posture, looming over her. “A lot of it is shit. It burns into your memory and doesn’t let go. But you know what I remember best?”

  Avigail shook her head, unable to detach her gaze from the man.

  “Camaraderie. Sacrifices. Brotherhood. I remember living for each other because that was all you had. The home doesn’t give you much ... but it gives you all the tools you need to be a stronger person.” He bent over and retrieved his box of supplies. “You just gotta be smart enough to use them.” Penn stole one glance at Revi before he walked off to finish his task

  Revi blinked several times to clear away the horrid image of squalor that Penn had painted in his head. To think Avigail lived through anything resembling Penn’s experiences eviscerated him. He looked at his daughter and tried to gauge her reaction.

  She sat on the crate, her eyes on the ship’s floorboards, as if she still tried to digest what Penn had said to her.

  Revi cleared his throat and attempted to reengage her. A hasty subject change lived on the tip of his tongue, but he needed to know. “Your mother ... what did she name the baby?”

  Any progress that Revi made halted at that moment. Avigail dismissed any internal thought she possessed regarding Penn’s speech. Her eyes turned to blades and carved into his heart. “I don’t know,” she choked out. Her cheeks reddened with rage and her words developed a tightness. “She threw herself into the ocean before she had it. Left a note. Said she wanted at least one child they couldn’t take away from her.”

  The blood in Revi’s veins iced over. His legs felt numb, seized by a paralysis he became all too familiar with since Avigail surfaced. Time stopped again.

  He wasn’t able to process her departure when his daughter rose to her feet and walked away, leaving him to his damnation. When he realized she was gone, he wanted to follow, but could not convince his body to move.

  Brack observed Revi as he leaned against the exterior of the airship’s cabin. His eyes switched to Avigail as she stormed off. Though he enjoyed the view of the young woman’s departure, he pitied Revi’s situation. Brack hoisted himself off the wall and traipsed over to Nicholai, pounding his palm down onto his back.

  “Oi, you sure it was a good idea to bring the Houton girl? She’s guttin’ Revi up something fierce,” he said, thumbing toward his miserable crewmate.

  Nicholai startled at the Rabbit’s sudden appearance. He turned to glimpse Revi and frowned, lowering his voice. “I hear you, Brack. I fear it would have destroyed him further to leave her behind. They only just reunited.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Brack leaned his back against the airship’s railing and crossed his arms. “And you’re sure it’s got nothing to do with her giving you the googly eyes, then?”

  The Time Father’s bones stiffened at Brack’s accusation. “Excuse me?”

  “Come on, a blind man could see it!” He laughed. “She’s got it bad, mate. Probably undressed you with her mind ten times over by now.”

  “That’s—gods, Brack, I—” Nicholai lifted uneasy hands over his ears. “Please, do not put images like that in my head. It’s bad enough avoiding Avigail, without being reminded of why I’m doing so.”

  “Girl’s got a craving,” he said, nonchalant in his admission. “The younger women are the hardest ones to fight off. Eager little things.”

  Nicholai grimaced. “Do bite your tongue, Brack. Please.” His expression flattened. He had a difficult time believing Brack ever fought off a woman’s advances in his life. “I’m just trying to get through this with as little tension as possible.”

  Brack laughed. The sound competed with the violent winds and won. “Good luck with that one, mate! As of late, tension follows us everywhere.”

  The Time Father swept his hands through his hair and sighed. “So it does.”

  Bermuda stared down at Brack and Nicholai from her position with the captain above. The airship presented a similar design to the old sea boat with its varying decks. She turned her attention back to Kazuaki as he guided the vessel through the skies, a hand on her hip. “I was excited the last time a lesser god was on our agenda,” she admitted. “I have to say, I’m less enthusiastic this time around.”

  “I thought the events with the God of Metal went well,” Kazuaki said, his hands gripped on the airship’s wheel.

  Bermuda reached up to tie her hair back, taming the wild strands from attacking her vision. “I was referring to Mimir,” she proclaimed.

  Kazuaki did not react.

  “I’m getting a sour taste in my mouth regarding lesser gods, Kazuaki.” Bermuda stepped up beside him and stared ahead, unaffected by his lack of acknowledgment. “I’d hate for more to return.”

  The captain issued an eventual nod. “As would I.”

  “Do you think about him much? Mimir?” Bermuda glanced at Kazuaki.

  “Not if I can help it.”

  The quartermaster smirked. Standard Kazuaki. She turned her attention back to the air, her smile fading. “I worry sometimes,” she started, “that he still has rights to your soul.”

  Her words were sentimental, but she said them with a roughness. It remained Bermuda’s usual tactic of driving home a point without wavering on the edge of displayed vulnerability. It made Kazuaki’s blood quicken. “Wouldn’t matter if he did,” he reassured her. “I don’t have any way to ‘lighten my soul’ anymore, as he so aptly put it.”

  “Right.” Bermuda felt a heat rise in her cheeks. Recollections of the night she ripped out his cursed eye spilled into her thoughts. The night they shared a dance in Aggi Normandy’s chambers. She recalled with vivid detail the way her body felt when it pressed up against the captain. It was similar to how her body felt in his proximity now. She remembered the scent of the whiskey on his breath, the melodious tune melting out of the phonograph. She remembered everything. “Sorry about that,” she uttered, gesturing to his missing eye.

  Half of a smirk formed on the captain’s face. He, too, often lived in that memory. It returned to him every night he closed his eye. He looked over at her. His grin broadened, despite his determination to smother it. “It’s all right. It wasn’t all bad.”

  His tone invited the electricity of lightning in her chest. It pulsed through her with such force, that she prided her ability to remain steadfast. Bermuda tried in vain to dismiss her flourishing lust for the captain since that auspicious night last year. She was not accustomed to failure. But with each passing day, he destroyed her fortitude more and more.

  His eye danced over her face. Kazuaki’s focus bounced from the curves of her cheekbones to the way her expression stilled when she forgot to breathe. Her lips were his final resting place until he pulled his gaze away. “Here we are,” he muttered, both relieved and dismayed that they arrived when they did.

  Bermuda followed his focus to Panagea’s center, quieting her covetousness and burying it back where it belonged. “It seems the others beat us here,” she said, spying the small forms of the division leaders as they stood in their respective places.

  The captain watched the bodies that stood in each division where Panagea’s center split, assessing their closeness before he turned over his shoulder. “Prepare to land!” Kazuaki’s voice slaughtered the skies and met everyone’s
ears.

  All hands organized for the airship’s descent. Revi joined Penn, Granite, and Brack, while the beast scampered about the deck. Umbriel appeared from out of the cabins to watch and help if she was needed. Deep thought secluded her for the majority of the trip.

  As the ship descended closer to the ground for mooring, the team cranked the levers that brought out the wheels. Avigail re-emerged from the cabin, having heard the captain’s shout. She glanced over at her father as he primed the aircraft with the others, but the environment soon caught her attention instead. She spied the large chasm slicing through the earth, with jagged rocks still rising from the broken ground.

  The young woman approached the railing and wrapped her fingers around the iron. The split was massive. The terrain was corroded in a way she’d never witnessed before. Though the world Avigail grew accustomed to was broken in ways that weren’t tangible, this was a much different form of deterioration.

  Many efforts were made by all divisions to remove the bodies of fallen soldiers that had died at Panagea’s center last year. Months of rain washed away the blood. Volunteers and hired hands hauled away the skeletons they could reach. Regardless of their efforts, nothing scrubbed away the feeling of dismal energy that lived in the air. It caused Avigail to shudder.

  “Easy does it,” Kazuaki murmured, touching the ground with as much grace as he mustered. The ship lurched forward when it hit the earth, sending crates and supplies sliding across the floorboards. Avigail found fortune that she gripped the railings as tight as she did. It was the only thing that kept her from tumbling to the deck.

  “Landings get better and better every time, Captain,” Bermuda eyed him with a sarcastic grin. She started down the stairs, preparing to disembark.

  Kazuaki watched her go and shrugged. “I didn’t think that one was too bad,” he said, securing the wheel and following after her.

  Granite lowered the ramp. As everyone approached and started to walk down, Avigail reached out to tap Revi’s arm. Startled, the man spun to face her.