The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  Kazuaki drew in a slow breath, to keep himself from losing his temper. Mimir’s prattling was endless.

  The lesser god continued. “He gazed down at her tear-soaked cheeks. Her puffed, rosy eyes. Even in her sorry state, he fell for her. She defied everything he ever was. As people loathe themselves for what they lack, Captain, so too, do the gods. He saw her uncontaminated love for her brother. He wanted to taste that purity for himself. So, he made her a bargain. He wouldn’t take her brother to the Underworld, on the condition that she went in his place. Of course, she thought this meant Ameyar would spare his life ...”

  It was Mimir’s final sentence that finally snagged a small thread of interest in Kazuaki. Though he did not remove his eye from the course ahead, a long-awaited response finally escaped him. “He didn’t,” he guessed with near certainty.

  Mimir shook his head. “No. He did not. Much as men want it to be so, people do not come back from the dead, Captain. No amount of prayer, or bargains with gods, will ever make that so.”

  The universal truth. Kazuaki knew it well. He turned the wheel, guiding the airship slowly to the right. “A god who tricks people into making agreements to benefit only himself,” he started, squaring his shoulders. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

  “I’m flattered that you’re thinking of me, Captain.” Mimir stood on the tips of his toes, to get a better view of his surroundings. Northwestern still burned as far as the eye could see. “When she fell into the Underworld,” he continued, “she learned of her brother’s death. He was stuck in Purgatory. Unable to enter any afterlife, as per the deal she made with Ameyar. Beside herself with regret for her foolishness, she turned her spirit into light. A beacon. To guide her brother to her, should he ever lay eyes on her as he wandered aimlessly through nothingness. She figured the Underworld with her was better than Purgatory alone. No matter what Ameyar tried, he could not snuff her. The human spirit, bathed in love, is a powerful force, indeed.”

  Kazuaki’s grip on the handles of the wheel tightened. Mimir’s tale put him in mind of that moment in Aggi Normandy’s home. The music from the phonograph spilled out around him, in the dark, with Bermuda pressed up against him. The moment she ripped out his cursed eye. An eye he tried to rip out many times himself, only to have it grow back into the empty socket. With a cleared throat, he shoved the memory aside. “What’s your point?” he muttered, the propellers of the airship swirling the dull fog around them.

  Mimir puffed out his chest. “Don’t you see, Captain?” He dipped his head back and closed his glowing eyes, bathing in the abysmal, dead grays of the sunless sky. “Eventually, light finds its way to even the darkest places.”

  Kazuaki’s eye tapered. Mimir was an enigma. He knew dissecting the lesser god was an uphill battle, for each unburied truth only revealed ten more complexities he didn’t care to stomach. He opened his mouth to see if the creature might put himself to actual use and serve on lookout duty, but Rennington’s voice rose up from below deck.

  “Captain! Comrades off the starboard bow!”

  Mimir stretched his neck out to see. Kazuaki’s gaze followed. He spied the movement of the stolen steam car first, watching as it kicked up black dust with its tires. It seemed the town below had only just been touched by the heat of the wildfire. In the time they had spent working on Vadim, the crew seemed to have a difficult time getting ahead of the destruction. But as Kazuaki had watched a horde of people abandon their soon-to-be engulfed homes and businesses, crawling across the uneven grounds like a condensed tidal wave, he deemed their efforts a success. Some lives spared were better than none.

  They must have spied the airship from the ground. The steam car came to a halt. Revi, Brack, Penn, and Bermuda raised their arms, guiding the vessel to their position.

  As Kazuaki lowered the airship for pick up, Bermuda grabbed someone from the crowd of fleeing people. A terrified woman, holding a bundle of cloth to her chest. An infant, the quartermaster guessed. “You know how to use one of these things?” she asked, thumbing toward the steam car.

  The panicked woman only nodded. Bermuda threw open the door. “Get in then. It’s all yours.”

  The woman did not argue. A faster exit was a welcomed gift. The rate at which she threw her body into the vehicle was intense, but she still managed to keep a tender hand cradled over her infant as the car rattled off, following the crowd away from the approaching flames.

  “Oi, Cappy! Perfect timing!” Brack shouted as Kazuaki struggled to find a spot to land.

  He cursed Northwestern’s clustered architecture. The propellers of the airship spun, keeping the large craft hovering above, but no open space presented itself. “Lower a rope!” he barked to Granite, as his arms locked the wheel in its place.

  Absent of a verbal reply, Granite took measured, purposeful steps toward a supply crate and threw it open. He seized a suitable length of rope and tied it around his torso, content to serve as a stable anchoring point as he hurled the end over the ship’s side.

  Brack was the first to catch it. He held it out to Bermuda with a grin. “Ladies first.”

  The quartermaster rolled her eyes and scaled the rope, making short work of the task. Revi, Brack, and Penn followed suit. Before all four had successfully placed both feet on the floorboards, Kazuaki increased the airship’s altitude, not wanting to loiter close to the heat of the approaching flames.

  Bermuda had already made it on deck when Revi and Brack hurled their bodies over the ledge. “How did it go with Vadim?” Revi wondered, obvious hope in his tone that they’d be able to depart Northwestern swiftly.

  “Kal’s working on him now,” Rennington informed the man, peering over the ledge to see if Penn made any progress. He watched as the cook muttered obscenities under his breath, slowly hoisting himself up the rope. Often the one to stay back with the ship, Penn had not developed the same endurance his comrades had. Rennington grinned and cupped a hand to his mouth. “Aye, Elmbroke, you need an assist?”

  “Feck off, Renn!”

  The Southern soldier snickered, swatting Granite’s chest with the back of his wrist. “Come on, mate, pull him up. I’ve watched enough people suffer today.”

  Granite, emotionless, grabbed the rope. With one arm reaching out after the other, he dragged Penn’s small body up with minimal exertion. When the cook finally emerged over the railing, his seething eyes fell on Rennington. “I had it,” he muttered, smacking collected ash off his clothing.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Rennington laughed as Granite untied the rope from around his torso. “Whatever you say, mate.”

  Bermuda swept across the deck as the crew fell back into their responsibilities. She climbed the stairs to the captain at the wheel, only giving Mimir a fraction of her attention before she directed her words to Kazuaki. “It took most of our time just to get ahead of the fallout,” she said, wiping her forearm across her cheek and chin. “We alerted the town to vacate. Told them to spread the word, but,” she shrugged, “it’s chaos down there, Kazuaki. I don’t know how many of them will stick around to warn their neighbors unless they have family or friends there.”

  Kazuaki looked her over. She was coated in a heavy layer of residue from her labors. A streak of skin appeared across her face where her arm smeared the scum away. “It’s fine,” he said, finding perfection in her ruin. “You did everything you could.”

  “Yeah, well,” her sigh turned into a cough as she tried to free some debris from inside her lungs, “I hope it was enough.”

  The two fell into an extended exchange of eye contact. It would have continued, had Kazuaki not become painfully aware of Mimir’s cheeky grin. Even in his limited peripheral vision, it mocked him.

  “Captain!” Kal threw open the cabin door to the main deck. He glanced up to the man at the wheel, shadowing his eyes with his hand to help him better see. “It’s Vadim. We’ve made a breakthrough.”

  “About damn time,” Kazuaki muttered, his shoulder blades tensing under his long jacket
as he made a dramatic turn of the wheel. “Where’s a safe place to drop him off?” he yelled down to Kal.

  The ambassador rubbed the back of his neck, his expression betraying his uncertainty. “I don’t know that such a place exists, Captain. No matter what town he’s in, Vadim is susceptible to their return.”

  A tensed muscle twitched in Kazuaki’s face. They had to leave him in Northwestern. He was bound to his division. With little options, he guided the ship in the direction opposite the fire’s path. They’d get him as far away from the lesser gods’ reign of terror as they were able. It was all they could do.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Kal strode out of the small, shabby building, readjusting the tie around his neck as he did. Night fell. Though they carried Vadim far from the fire, the amount of land that burned still showcased a soft, orange glow in the distance. Almost like a permanent setting sun.

  The ambassador sighed and grabbed the rope that dangled from the hovering airship. He gave it three tugs, the indication from below that he was ready to be brought aboard.

  Granite responded to the call, raising him back to the top of the airborne craft’s deck. He grabbed the ambassador’s arm and set him down before winding the rope around his hand and elbow, to return it to its place in the storage crate.

  “Well?”

  Kal spun at the sound of Kazuaki’s voice behind him. Though he expected an interview from the captain, he still startled at the commanding nature of the man’s presence. “Well, he seems back to himself. He put up quite a fuss at having to reside with the industrial working class. I told him the odds of any blue bloods taking him into their residence is nearly nonexistent, given the risk that would put them in. He should count himself lucky the laborers took him.” Kal sighed, exhausted. “He’s probably safer here, anyway. The lesser gods know he’s a material man; I’m sure the factory belt will be one of the last places they look, should they feel the need to exploit him again.”

  Kazuaki glanced over his shoulder to be sure Revi fared well in keeping the airship piloted. Even at a distance, the man seemed irritated but capable. He turned back to Kal, his thoughts returning to Vadim. “Do you think we can trust he’ll stay coherent?”

  A hesitation followed. “We have no choice. Even if we found a suitable, level-headed replacement, without another Time Father to willingly initiate the new recruit, we’d be unable to strip Vadim of his Chronometer and bind it to another. I know it’s not ideal leaving Northwestern under his control given his current record, Captain, but we’re fortunate to have Vadim at all.”

  Kazuaki nodded. Kal was right. They’d done all they could here. It was time to return to their respective divisions, and hope the aid the Time Fathers and Mother sent to this place would be enough. “Prepare for departure then,” he said, turning away.

  Kal watched him go. He looked back at the crumbling structure he left Vadim inside and frowned. It was a pity to leave him here. Kal feared not just for the Northwestern Time Father’s sanity, but for the people who shared the building with him. Their sense of patriotism to their division welcomed Vadim to share in what little they had. The ambassador hoped their kindness wouldn’t be what killed them.

  “Revi,” Kazuaki climbed the steps to join the disgruntled father. “I can take over.”

  “Get some rest, Captain.” Revi turned the wheel, guiding the airship back to Southeastern. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep, anyway.”

  Kazuaki paused, his fingers winding around the rails. He studied Revi. The graying hairs and weathered face did not age him, but living with the apprehension of not knowing his daughter’s well-being the last handful of days, certainly had. He knew the man volunteered to pilot the ship because he felt none could slice the skies apart as efficiently as he could. The offer stemmed more from anxiousness than the generosity of spirit. “I’m sure she’s fine, Revi.”

  Revi only grunted a reply.

  Kazuaki frowned. He couldn’t deny he needed sleep. “I’ll relieve you in three hours,” he said, turning and descending the stairs.

  The walk to his cabin was a quiet one. Contemplative. He found gratitude in it. Quiet moments were few and far between now, with Mimir constantly up his ass. Kazuaki closed the door behind him and threw his long jacket off before collapsing into his hammock: a replacement for the one that sank into the sea with his long lost ship.

  The netting cradled his tired bones in all the right places. He closed his eye and relaxed into it; the one familiar comfort that followed him for years on end. All the physical ingredients for rest were present. It was the goings-on prodding his brain, which kept him from falling victim to sleep.

  The state of affairs differed greatly from the last several years. There wasn’t much Kazuaki Hidataka could not solve with a simple swing of a sword, or a well-timed bullet flying from a gun’s barrel. But against the gods, he was helpless. He could slay those they brought under their influence, sure, but the gods were slaying them anyway. Those people were pawns. Single-use tools easily cast in the garbage when they ran their course of practicality. But the people weren’t the problem. The lesser gods were.

  And they were untouchable.

  A slow squeak from his door’s hinges made the captain scowl in the darkness. “Gods dammit, Mimir,” Kazuaki snarled to the shadows, “can I not have a single hour of rest to myself?”

  The door closed. He felt a presence in the room. “It’s me,” Bermuda’s voice sounded; only a dusky figure in the corner.

  “Bermuda?” Kazuaki swung his legs off the hammock’s side and sat up, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

  She let out a short laugh. It was music. “What isn’t?”

  The captain’s shoulders eased upon the realization that nothing, aside from the norm, immediately needed his attention. “An understatement,” he whispered to the dark. “What can I do for you?”

  Bermuda tilted her neck to the right, then to the left, banishing any stiffness from her spine as she strode over to the captain and sat down beside him. Her small body sank into the mesh. She rested her arms on her knees as she leaned forward. “We’ve seen a lot of terrible things together, haven’t we, Kazuaki?”

  The immortal felt his blood shift as if each cell was injected with helium. She’d never know what it did to him when she called him by his name. “We have.”

  “The things I saw down there, in that city ...” She shook her head. “It was chaos. The absolute evolution of human ruin. I watched flesh peel away from the bones of wild men, barely aware of their actions. I saw people begging for their lives as they were slaughtered by their friends, neighbors, husbands, wives, brothers, sisters. I saw others, who chose to die in the heat trying to return sense to their loved ones, rather than attempt to live a life without them. I heard the raw screams of pure agony, as some learned those they cared for had already perished in the next town over.” Her voice was low. Detached, but still clinging to an undeniable piece of emotion. “Worst of all, Kazuaki ... I listened as the air burned with the regrets of lives unlived.”

  He listened. With the whole of his eye on her, he said nothing.

  “I know we’ve seen it all before. I know we’ll see it again.” Bermuda reached over, without restraint, and placed her still soot-covered hand on his. “Death can’t find you, Kazuaki. Blessing or curse, either way, you are spared from what I saw today. But one day ... one day, it will come for me. And I will not die like those people.” She squeezed his hand. “I will not die with regrets.”

  His pulse quickened. He felt it in his throat. The savage beating of his heart. They had both toyed with this moment, he knew. But the safety of fantasy, the necessity of it, kept both of them in check. Bermuda challenged the barrier with her words. She challenged him. It was a battle he knew she’d win if she continued. The one arena in which he stood no chance. “I would never let anything bad happen to you,” he said, a feeble attempt to redirect the conversation. “Not again.”

  “A noble gesture ...” Bermuda found him, her ey
es on his. “But life is full of uncertainties. One day, you’ll have no choice.” She pulled his hand toward her, gripping it as she rested it on her chest, over her heart. “I will fight whatever problems face us until my dying breath. As long as there is blood in my veins, I will see to it that we do what must be done. But I’m tired of fighting this. I’m tired of fighting us.”

  His hand pressed into the exposed skin of her chest. He could not stop himself from spreading his fingers outward, just for the chance to grace the smooth line of her clavicle, as it spread toward her shoulders. “Bermuda,” he hung his head, knowing the only chance he stood at a successful resistance was to avoid the temptation of seeing her offered body before him, “I won’t deny my covetousness ... but this is a precarious path.”

  A smile cloaked half her face. She leaned toward him, slowly, her voice hushed. “As it turns out, I have a lot of experience with precarious situations.”

  He exhaled until his lungs winced and lifted his head. Her face was inches from his. She still smelled of fire, but also lust, and somehow, the sea. As if the salt and the wind embedded into her. It was intoxicating. “Tell me, with absolute certainty, if this is what you want,” he said, feeling the last bits of restraint dissolve from his bloodstream.

  “Ye—”

  His hand slid up her neck and into her hair. Before she could finish, his lips were on hers. Years of pent up avidity broke through him with no control. The desire, the animalism, the appetite for which neither had any ability to harness, guided Kazuaki’s hands around her waist and pulled her toward him.

  In a moment of swiftness, he stood from the hammock, taking her with him. Her legs wrapped around the sides of his body, holding herself up as nimble fingers pried at the various buckles of her clothing. A soft glow from outside the cabin window illuminated their carnal entanglement. Whether from the moon or the still-burning fire sweeping the horizons of Northwestern, they did not know, and in the heat of the moment, they did not care.