The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  Chapter Twelve

  No wasted moment ticked by. Though they couldn’t agree on a solution, Mimir’s confession birthed an urgency shared by all of the division leaders and their companions. Someone needed to evaluate the state of Northwestern and its people. Kazuaki did not need an exchange of words to know who the burden belonged to. With the Time Fathers and Mother bound to their divisions, he and his crew were the only ones capable of the job requirements.

  Mimir could not contain his jubilance. He watched, fascinated, as everyone tied up as many loose ends as they were able. His eyes shimmered with delight. He cherished the freedom of watching the people. They amused him.

  Nicholai approached Kazuaki as he stood at the ramp to his airship. The Southeastern Time Father removed his hat and tucked it under his arm, posturing as he scratched at an imagined itch on his scalp. “Kazuaki,” he sighed, “thank you for taking up this challenge. I know there’s no man more capable. I only wish I could go with you.”

  The captain inclined his chin, inexpressive. “It’s just as well. You obviously have your own problems you need to iron out.”

  Nicholai flinched. He knew of what Kazuaki spoke, but he feigned innocence and uttered, “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean,” the captain replied, checking to be sure his weapons were secure at his sides. “Your little ‘outburst’ earlier.”

  The Time Father found himself clenching his jaw. An unpleasant feeling of embarrassment gripped him. He said nothing.

  Kazuaki studied his face. He recognized the humiliation. No man enjoyed owning up to failure. The captain looked around to be sure no others paid attention before he crossed his arms. “Listen, Nico. Not to the whispers in your head, no matter how loud they grow.” He tapped him on the chest with his index finger, hard. “This is all you need to pay attention to. Hold fast to yourself.” His voice lowered. “And no matter what happens ... don’t let go.”

  Nicholai stared at the captain, trying to absorb the impact of his words. Before he could utter a reply, Aggi strode over and laid a hand on Kazuaki’s shoulder. “Captain Hidataka, I appreciate your swiftness in addressing this situation. Should you need any recruits from the Northeastern military, do not hesitate to ask.”

  “Or Eastern,” Elowyn echoed Aggi’s offer, closing the gap between her and Kazuaki. “We’re admittedly short-handed, what with the need for the footmen to detain the more violent citizens, but my offer stands. If you need anything, Captain ...”

  “I don’t,” Kazuaki replied dispassionately. “Not until I know what we’re up against. I’m not sure I trust anything that spills from that vile mouth,” he muttered, motioning toward Mimir with his head.

  Mimir sat up straighter and grinned, bathing in the captain’s attention, regardless of its negativity.

  Emont joined the others, rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand. Anxiousness radiated from his body with an unmatched thickness. He recalled the side effects of keeping citizens in the dark from last year, but Nordjan made some sense. “I’m still not sure telling the people is the right thing,” he admitted. “But I stand with the others in terms of back up. I gathered recruits for you nearly a year ago, and I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.”

  “Good.” Kazuaki nodded his approval and looked to Granite, Penn, Revi, Brack, and Bermuda. “Ready?”

  The crew nodded.

  Bartholomew watched from the sidelines, a frown on his face. He turned to Rennington, who stood beside him. “You should go. I admire the captain greatly, but I know he suffers from delusions of grandeur. Though he won’t ask, I’m sure he could use the extra help.”

  Rennington tugged at the collar of his uniform, suddenly feeling hot beneath its weight. “Bart ... you know I’d do anything for the captain ... but leaving Southern ... it’s hard now. You know ...” He trailed off, pausing for a moment before he shook his head. “Apologies, sir. If that’s an order—”

  “I’ll go,” Kal interjected, cutting Rennington off. “It seems the captain has enough soldiers. He excels with a sword, from what you tell me. He needs an ambassador, should things require a more diplomatic approach.”

  The scholar became rigid, though he tried to disguise it with a quick readjustment of his stance. “With all due respect, Kal, I’ve spent much of my adult life with the captain. His thirst for peril is unmatched. Hazards tend to follow him around without restraint.”

  One side of Kal’s mouth tugged into a smile. “You’re adorable when you’re worried, Bartholomew.”

  “Then I must look an absolute vision,” he replied, sarcastic as well as concerned. “I would prefer you not do this, Kal.”

  The ambassador glanced at his boots to hide his quiet laugh. When he returned his eyes to Bartholomew, they shined with amusement. “I know you would.”

  Rennington eased away from the two, sensing a tender moment in his near future that he did not want to encroach upon. Bartholomew pinched his lips together, mulling the circumstances over before he released his apprehension in a weighted breath. “I can’t think of any logical reason to ask you not to go.”

  “Anxiety is rarely based in logic,” Kal said, suave in his approach as he weaved his fingers into Bartholomew’s hand.

  Despite his deep concern, the scholar smirked. Kal had a way of coaxing smiles out of the otherwise consistent man. “Kindly return in one piece.”

  “Impossible,” Kal whispered, leaning his forehead against Bartholomew’s. “As I’ll be leaving a piece of me here with you.”

  “Get a room, mates!” Brack shouted from the ramp of the airship, a classic grin spread over his face.

  Kal and Bartholomew cleared their throats and backed away from one another. The scholar gave the ambassador’s hand a gentle squeeze before he placed his arms back at his sides.

  “I’ll be all right,” Kal reassured him with a smile. “You’ve never seen me with a weapon before. You never know, I might be quite good.”

  Bartholomew pressed his fingers into his temples with a grim laugh. Kal Rovanas was the picture of administrative perfection. He had a hard time imagining him wielding any weapon more dangerous than a book. “Stay safe, Kal.”

  With a heartening nod, Kal slipped away from the Southern Time Father and crossed over to Kazuaki, issuing him a formal salute. “With your acquiescence, Captain Hidataka, I present myself as available to represent the Southern division in your quest to Northwestern.”

  Kazuaki arched a brow. He could not remember the last time anyone had saluted him in his long life. “Right,” he muttered, apathetic to Kal’s courageous show of interest. He glanced over the ambassador’s shoulder and spied Bartholomew before he returned his attention to Kal. “Any ... friend of Bartholomew’s is a welcomed addition. Climb on board.”

  Kal’s chest swelled with admitted pride as he ascended the airship’s ramp and took a stand beside Brack and the others. He glimpsed the Rabbit from the corners of his eyes, a smile on his face. “So, how long have you all known Bartholomew?”

  Brack flourished under Kal’s attention and laughed as he put his arm around him. “Mate, have I got stories for you.”

  Rennington could not help but stare at the look on Bartholomew’s face. His division leader tried and failed to mask his apprehension under a dutiful appearance, but years of familiarity allowed Rennington to see through it. The risk of losing a loved one was a terrible thing. Bartholomew Gray remained a logical man, but even Rennington knew emotion weaved through his veins now and again.

  It had taken a long time for the scholar to feel comfortable enough to take a chance on a relationship with Kal when he discovered him on the Southern division’s staff. Not wanting to mix business and sentiments, Rennington had watched the two pussyfoot around for months before they took the plunge and acknowledged their feelings for one another. Bartholomew shared no romances in the time Rennington knew him. Even in the time before he knew him, the soldier recognized Bartholomew’s opportunities for happiness came with great l
imitations. It tugged at his heart. The unknown of Kal’s well-being would haunt the Southern Time Father both day and night.

  Rennington couldn’t allow that to happen.

  “Bart,” he said, his hands behind his back as he stood, “I’ll go.”

  The scholar nearly broke his neck turning to look at his comrade. “You will?”

  “Yeah, mate,” Rennington smirked, nudging Bartholomew with his elbow. “I’ll keep a watch. So long as you return the favor.”

  The rate at which the apprehension melted from Bartholomew’s face made Rennington feel better for his offer. “Of course,” Bartholomew replied, nodding. “I’ll hold down the fort in Southern.”

  “You haven’t disappointed me so far.” Rennington stretched his arms over his head as he started toward the captain. “See you in a few, Mr. Gray.”

  Bartholomew watched him go, issuing a farewell wave to Kazuaki and the crew, as well. Though Rennington was a mortal man, he felt a sense of peace knowing the soldier would keep a watchful eye on Southern’s ambassador.

  Nicholai approached Edvard as he returned his hat to the top of his head. “Well, Ed ... dad,” he corrected himself, still struggling with paternal titles with the man who both betrayed him and saved his life, “it was good to see you. I ...” He paused, skepticism in his expression as he recalled Nordjan’s cryptic statements earlier, “I hope everything has been well.”

  Edvard unbent his aging spine. He looked every bit the part of the formal politician from Nicholai’s childhood, despite wearing the decades that weathered his body. “All is well,” he reassured his son, identifying the incredulity in his face. “I hope for the same regarding your situation, Nicholai.”

  Nicholai chuckled, though the sound harbored insincerity. “I’ll be all right. Haven’t died yet.”

  “Yes,” Edvard said. “Let’s keep it that way.”

  The Southeastern Time Father started to turn but stopped himself. If he didn’t ask while he had the opportunity to gauge Edvard’s reaction with his own eyes, he would regret it later. “Dad,” Nicholai said, studying him, “what did Nordjan mean when he said you of all people should’ve known better?”

  A microscopic fleck of fear flashed through Edvard’s face. With swiftness, he blinked it away. “Nothing, son,” the Western Time Father said. “Just the incoherent babbling of an angry man.”

  Nicholai calculated Edvard’s response. For a moment, he said nothing. He wanted to believe him. It was one less thing to worry about. After his deliberation was satisfied, Nicholai nodded. “Right. Of course. Take care, dad.”

  Edvard nodded, unyielding as he stood. “Take care, my son.”

  Umbriel slipped over to the captain, one hand on her opposite arm, as she held it at her side. “Will you be needing my assistance on this trip, Kazuaki?”

  The immortal cast his eye upon her, mulling the offer over. The ethereal abilities of the Earth Mother proved useful in the past. There was no doubt in his mind that she’d make a valuable accompaniment. Her abilities, coupled with her knowledge of the lesser gods, made her presence beneficial. “No,” he said. “It’s best if you stay with Nico.”

  She knew the sacrifice he made. He knew it, too, in the way she stared at him. “I’ll try my best to keep him ... himself,” she finished.

  “Good.” Kazuaki turned away, evaluating the airship for readiness. With Umbriel watching over Nico, he had one less thing to worry about.

  Revi sat on a crate aboard the airship, his hands in his lap. He eyed his daughter from the corner of his peripheral vision. “What do you want to do, Avi?”

  The young woman tilted her head, sitting across from him. “What are you going to do?”

  Revi knew where his duties rested. The father sat up, finding his child’s eyes. “Knowing Kazuaki, probably something dangerous. I don’t want to tell you to stay with Nico in Southeastern, but ...”

  “You think I should,” she finished for him.

  “Yes. But only for your protection.”

  Avigail frowned. She seemed hesitant to relent to his suggestion. “Who protects you?”

  “They all do.” Revi thumbed toward his comrades. “We protect each other. We always have.”

  “When will you come back?”

  The man stopped breathing for a moment. It must have been a misplaced memory, as he stole away in the middle of the night when his children slept those ten years ago, but she uttered words she very well could have said as a child. “I don’t know. It depends on what’s happening there. On how badly people need us.”

  His answer did not seem to satisfy her. “Will you be all right?” she asked, voice harsh as she tried to disguise her fear with anger.

  Revi attempted a smile. “I’ve always been before.”

  Avigail sighed. Her fingernails scraped against the manufactured material that made up the crate beneath her. After some time contemplating, she nodded. “Fine. I’m staying with Nicholai, then?”

  “And Umbriel,” Revi added, adopting a cynical look. He did not enjoy his daughter’s eagerness to reside with the Southeastern Time Father. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “All right.” She sat in silence before she stood to depart. Revi thought that was the end of their conversation, but as she neared the airship’s ramp and placed a gentle hand on the railing, she turned and added, “Stay safe.”

  She disappeared before he could say anything. It didn’t matter. He didn’t know what to say. But as Revi Houton rose to his feet, his false smile shifted from a forced one to a more genuine one.

  With Avigail off, all the crew, save for Bermuda, had their feet on the airship’s deck. Mimir grabbed Jernal’s hand and pulled him toward the ramp. The soldier felt like a dead weight against the lesser god’s forceful tugs but relented upon the realization that he was stuck in his bargain until further notice.

  Kazuaki swept a hand out in front of Mimir before his first foot touched the ramp. “No stowaways on my ship,” he glowered.

  “Oh, Captain,” Mimir radiated with beguilement, “you have no choice.”

  His arm remained unmoving. He knew Mimir was right; there was nothing he could do to prevent the lesser god from climbing aboard. If he could not end his problems with his unscheduled decapitation earlier, there were not many other solutions he knew of to rid himself of the annoyance. A heated eye flicked to Jernal, still clad in his Northern military battledress. “I don’t have to take him,” he muttered.

  Jernal drew his shoulders back as he stood under the fire of Kazuaki’s stare. “It’s not as if I want to come,” he shot back.

  “You two,” Mimir chuckled. “Bickering like children, yet you have so much in common. Come, Commander, you never know when you’ll need to satisfy your debt.”

  Jernal watched as Mimir pushed passed Kazuaki’s arm, and ventured onto the airship’s deck. He sighed, admittedly beside himself as he followed the lesser god’s footsteps. Before he ascended, the captain seized his bicep.

  “It’s a dangerous thing making bargains with lesser gods,” he growled.

  Jernal looked down at Kazuaki’s scarred hand before he lifted his eyes. “You’re one to talk, Captain.” It embittered him to address the immortal with any sense of formality, but if he intended to live long enough to see his bargain with Mimir end, he needed to appease the man capable of destroying his life.

  Kazuaki’s expression flattened. He leaned in, inches from Jernal’s face. “Know that whatever hell you’ll face with Mimir,” he said, tightening his grip on the soldier’s arm, “will pale in comparison to the hell you’ll endure on my ship if you raise any trouble.”

  Jernal caught himself as Kazuaki thrust him forward. He stumbled several steps on the ramp before regaining his footing and joined up the others at the top. The commander closed his eyes. He wondered if it was worth it. If he shouldn’t have forgone Nordjan’s offer.

  Thinking of the stable future it promised to buy his family, he decided it was. With swallowed pride and a bruise
d ego, Jernal stood beside the others on deck.

  Bermuda spied the crew on board, ready for departure. Spiteful pupils zeroed in on Nordjan, who stood with a detestable amount of self-importance. With Bartholomew’s attention on Kal and Emont exchanging words with Elowyn, she slipped over to the Northern Father and lowered her voice. “Don’t think for a moment I’ll forget your hand in Mimir’s reemergence,” she hissed. “The Time Fathers may fear Northern coming to a standstill at your death, but I assure you, I do not share their concerns.”

  Nordjan did not give her the satisfaction of a response. He only stared, his expression unchanging.

  When Nicholai noticed the stand-off, he took several hurried steps over toward them, opening his mouth to speak. Bermuda turned away and strode toward the airship before he got anything out.

  With a frown, Nicholai redirected his focus to Nordjan. He put their history aside, forgoing the emotional aftermath of Nordjan severing his arm for the sake of diplomacy. “I know I can’t force you to do anything. You’re an intelligent man capable of making your own decisions. But I want you to know I’m going to tell my people. As I know it, Bartholomew, Elowyn, Aggi, and Edvard are doing the same. Emont remains unsure, but know that word will spread. You can either be viewed as a truthful leader or a reticent one, Nordjan. You decide. I just know from experience that secrets lead to angry citizens. You should too.”

  Not unlike his exchange with Bermuda, Nordjan said nothing. When Nicholai realized he wasn’t going to receive a response, he sighed. “Gods-speed, Nordjan.” He turned, joining Umbriel and Avigail where they stood near Kazuaki.

  Nordjan glared at the Southeastern Time Father before he snapped his eyes toward Jernal. The commander loitered on the airship’s edge, gripping the rails. His eyes pleaded with him to send help. To allow the Northern cavalry to free him from his prison sentence with Mimir. Nordjan saw every atom of hope in Jernal’s stare.

  He turned his back, disregarding them all, as he headed toward his flying machine and climbed in.