The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  “They’re saving the world, Time Father. Panagea can no longer endure mankind’s mistreatment.”

  Edvard’s nostrils flared as he tried to suppress his voice. “They’re just using you to get what they want.”

  “How can you chastise their actions, when they mirror your own?” Esther’s brows rose on her scarred, emaciated face. “Worse, perhaps, that you not only used the gods for their gifts, but you betrayed your wife in the process.”

  Edvard’s eyes fell to a close, gentle at first until he squeezed them with fierceness. He did not care to pick apart the details on how she knew. As he remembered, the gods were full of surprises. “I made a mistake,” he murmured.

  Esther only grinned. “Which part was the mistake, Time Father?”

  He pulled his hands from his pockets and rubbed his face, leaving his fingertips resting on his exasperated jaw. “Seeing the damages the gods have caused ... at this moment, I am no longer sure.”

  “Oh, Edvard,” Esther smirked, addressing him by name for the first time since he entered her room, “they’re only getting started.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The airship floated above Southeastern, having sliced through all of the Northwestern division, leaving the bulk of the fires behind it. The occasional plume of smoke rose from the land below, but they did not stop. There was nothing they could do. It was a fool’s paradise to think they could save everyone from the lesser gods’ wrath.

  Kazuaki opened the door to his cabin and closed it behind him. A man of his word, he had tried to pry Revi away from the ship’s wheel three hours into his shift, but the man refused to relent. Kazuaki did not object. Revi’s obstinacy afforded the captain more time to acquaint himself with the curves of Bermuda’s body: war-torn, but flawless, nevertheless. The reality of her exceeded every fantasy.

  There was no sun present to shine down upon him, but he could not shake the satisfaction from his traditionally rigid body. It had been a long time since Kazuaki Hidataka experienced a dominating sense of excellence, stranger still that it followed an abysmal visit to Northwestern. But even the heavy uncertainty of Panagea’s fate did not weigh the captain down. Not today.

  “Mornin’, Cappy!”

  Brack’s shrill voice pierced through Kazuaki’s reverie, like a sword through flesh. Kazuaki closed his eye, as if that would somehow bar the Rabbit’s words from penetrating his brain and ruining his faultless morning, but to no avail.

  “Did you hear the news, Cap?” Brack arched a brow as he bent over to grab a crate he had every intention of moving to the storage area. “Strange things happenin’ on board since we left Northwestern.”

  Kazuaki cocked his head to the side. Puzzlement did not often find its way to his face, but he could not disguise his confusion. “Such as?” he asked, baffled that anything newsworthy could happen aboard his ship without his knowledge.

  The Rabbit shook his head, assuming a look of apprehension as he cradled the box under one arm. “There’s been whispers ... of a rare creature spotted on this very ship.”

  Confusion shifted to skepticism. Kazuaki narrowed his eye. “Really,” he muttered flatly, his single word more a statement than a question.

  “Indeed, it’s true,” Brack confirmed, nodding to emphasize his statement. “A being as legendary as it is scarce,” he added, injecting a dramatic level of tonality in his words.

  Kazuaki caught on quickly. His expression shifted to a glare. “Don’t say it—”

  “The beast—”

  “Rabbit—”

  “—with two backs!”

  “Belay that!” Kazuaki barked, clenching his fists as Brack erupted into volcanic laughter. He did not know how he knew. It was as if Brack Joney could smell lascivious activity from a mile away. “Rabbit, I have no energy for this today.”

  “I reckon not,” Brack chuckled, his lips pressed together as he tried to keep his amusement trapped inside. Unable to resist, he added, “Gave it all to the quartermaster last night, aye?”

  “Go on!” Kazuaki scowled, thrusting an arm in the direction of the airship’s storage. “Distance yourself from me now, before I hurl you over the ledge.”

  Brack continued to snicker as he approached the entryway leading to the storage room. He paused in the open door, turning over his shoulder to look at the captain. “Hey, Cappy?”

  His eye twitched. Kazuaki clenched his jaw and rubbed his temples. Though he suspected he’d regret it, he muttered through clenched teeth, “What, Rabbit?”

  A wide grin split across Brack’s face. “On a scale of one to ten—”

  “Go!”

  “Right,” Brack sunk into the staircase that led below deck. The sound of his laughter echoed up the flight of steps, taunting Kazuaki until he reached the bottom.

  Kazuaki shook his head and crept toward the edge of the airship, his hands behind his back as he peered out at the horizon. He recognized some of the landmarks below. They would arrive in Nenada at any moment. Revi certainly pulled his weight navigating the vessel home quickly.

  The man must have run on fumes. He did not once see him partake in any of the food Penn had prepared since they left Vadim. Kazuaki needed to relieve him, whether he wanted to or not. He couldn’t have a half-mad man, disparaged by sleep deprivation and starvation, trying to land an airship the size of a small factory.

  He spun around and into Mimir, who sniffed at him like an animal. “Ugh,” Mimir wrinkled his nose, and he drew his neck back as if standing close to Kazuaki edged him toward illness. “Captain. You reek of testosterone and pheromones.”

  Kazuaki’s jaw tightened as he pushed passed Mimir, preferring to ignore him rather than drive himself mad with the knowledge that he could do him no physical harm. He headed toward Revi to take over the landing.

  “Control yourself in the future, Captain! You have a lot on your plate!” Mimir shouted after him, cupping a hand around his mouth to help his voice travel. “Humans,” he muttered to himself. “Whether modern times or ancient, they sure love their copulating and their orgies.”

  “Revi.” Kazuaki climbed the steps to the main deck where the man stood, gripping the wheel. “I’m here to relieve you.”

  “I got us this far,” Revi murmured, showing no indication of moving.

  “And your efforts are as appreciated as they are temporarily terminated.” Kazuaki shoved him aside and took over the wheel.

  Revi grunted at the physical force of the captain’s body ushering him aside. He scowled, annoyed, but as he curled and uncurled his fingers, he realized a stiffness lived in them from his hours-long endeavor of holding fast to the wheel.

  It felt strange to walk. His legs stabbed at him as soon as he moved, urging him to sit, to relieve the pressure of having to hold up his body for another moment. “Fine,” he muttered. “Nenada is just ahead. I’ll prepare the ship for landing.”

  Kazuaki did not protest. If Revi’s prerogative was to work himself into oblivion, it was his decision to do so. As long as he wasn’t responsible for landing the ship.

  Kazuaki spied the familiar territory of Nicholai’s home town ahead and prepped the airship to decrease its altitude. “All hands on deck!” he shouted, his order carrying through the ship with the same magnetism it always had. “We’re taking her down!”

  Landing in Southeastern was a much easier process than anywhere else, given Nicholai’s generosity in preparing a practical space for the airship to return home. As the vessel lowered to its place, propellers whipping in their predictable fashion, Kazuaki felt a small sense of relief ignite inside him that Nenada was here to greet them. After the chaos in Northwestern, he almost feared the small town might have perished in a sea of flames.

  The ramp lowered. The crew exited. Mimir and Jernal were the first off. Granite’s dog barreled down shortly after, happy to set foot on solid ground again. As the other crew members departed, they gazed into the faces of Nenada’s people.

  A few wandering eyes from passers-by fell in their
direction. Bermuda arched a brow. Their expressions seemed fearful. Skeptical. As if the people wondered whether they brought chaos back with them, or comfort.

  Revi ignored them. He strode across the lot, making a line for Nicholai’s homestead. The door opened before he approached, and Umbriel stepped out, but before she said anything, he eased her aside and walked into the residence.

  “Avigail?” he called out, looking around.

  “Oh, Revi—” Umbriel extended an arm toward him, but Nicholai beat her to the punch when he stepped out from behind one of the bedroom walls.

  “Revi ...” The Time Father took a deep breath and held it. He held a note in his hand. “Welcome back.”

  The Houton man’s eyes tapered. He did not like the way Nicholai and Umbriel flanked him. Nor did he like the obvious absence of his daughter. “Where is she?” he asked, already knowing he wouldn’t enjoy the answer.

  Nicholai cleared his throat and took two steps toward Revi, holding out the note. “She left. But, she did indicate she’d be returning—”

  Revi tore the note out of Nicholai’s hands and scanned it. The Time Father knew when he finished, as soon as the look of devastation crept into the man’s eyes. “You were supposed to watch her,” he growled, lifting his venomous gaze from the note.

  The Time Father held up his hands. “I tried, Revi, I did. We both did. We had no idea she even entertained the idea of leaving. She seemed content here.”

  With thoughtlessness bred by fatigue and anger, Revi grabbed Nicholai’s arms and pushed him up against the nearest wall. “I trusted you,” he snarled, an unruliness in his eyes.

  Umbriel approached to intervene, but Nicholai stopped her with a look. “You’re entitled to your anger. I’m sure you’re feeling—”

  Revi pulled him forward just to slam him into the wall once more. “Do not tell me what I’m feeling, Nico! You can’t even begin to grasp it,” he seethed, his shoulders rising as he lowered his head. He tried to steady himself. He knew his actions were unwarranted, but Revi Houton was familiar with rage. It served him well over the last decade. He did not know much else, other than to lose himself to it completely.

  “Revi,” Rennington’s voice sounded through the door. He entered the room and put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Come on, mate. You know Nico. He would’ve stopped her if he could’ve.”

  “We’re all worried about Avigail,” Nicholai added, still pinned to the wall by Revi’s aggression. He made no move to free himself, and instead waited for Revi’s anger to pass. “But I’m afraid ... she isn’t the only one missing.”

  By now, the others had gathered closer to the open doorway. Umbriel stepped aside, allowing Brack, Penn, Kal, Bermuda, Granite, the dog, and Kazuaki to enter. The small home filled up quick. The Earth Mother’s eyes fell on Jernal and Mimir as they stood outside.

  “Do come in,” she said, motioning them inside. “We’ll make room.”

  Mimir beamed as he joined the crowd. Jernal, however, looked less than pleased as he squeezed his body into the claustrophobic space. “Awfully small quarters for a Time Father,” he murmured, trying not to touch anyone.

  Nicholai ignored him. “Elowyn has been reported missing. But Eastern’s time still ticks, so wherever she is, she’s presumably safe.”

  The news did not settle well with anyone, but Rennington, in particular, showcased a deep concern. “E.P ...” His eyes narrowed. “How long has she been gone?”

  “I’ve only known about it since yesterday,” Nicholai announced. “Emont is also unresponsive. I fear something may have happened to him, as well.”

  “We’ve surmised they’re after the division leaders,” Umbriel interjected. “Ameyar sent someone to try and place a claim over Nicholai.”

  Kazuaki caught Umbriel’s eyes. “We’ve concluded the same. The Goddess of Harvest had Vadim. Northwestern is in dire straits. Towns all over are in flames. There wasn’t much we could do.”

  “With all due respect,” Kal stepped forward, standing tall, “I must announce my departure. If what we fear is true, and the lesser gods are targeting division leaders, it is of utmost importance that I return to Southern with efficiency.”

  “Right.” Rennington sighed, sweeping a hand through his hair. He feared for Elowyn’s safety, but he was duty-bound to protect Bartholomew. To protect Southern. “I’ll take you there straight away, Kal. But Nico ...” He turned, pointing a finger at the still-held Time Father, “if you hear anything about E.P., and I mean anything ... you alert me straight away, you hear?”

  Nicholai tried to force a comforting smile. It was only half successful. “You’ll be the first to know.”

  “Thanks, mate.” Rennington patted Revi’s shoulder, a silent urge to release Nicholai. He then turned to Kazuaki and held out a hand. “Captain. Always a pleasure.”

  The immortal seized the offering, nodding. “Give Bartholomew my regards.”

  “And a big ol’ hug from the Rabbit,” Brack nudged Kal with his elbow, grinning.

  The ambassador chuckled, issuing a polite nod to Brack. “Yes, well ... it was a pleasure to meet you all. I wish it were due to better circumstances,” he said as he backed out the door. Rennington joined him after he finished his farewells. Kal smiled, once. It was genuine. “Gods-speed to you all.”

  The Southern soldier led the ambassador to the nearest steam train as the others remained inside. Bermuda closed the door after they disappeared, not wanting to risk the infiltration of prying ears. “So,” she started, glancing at Umbriel and Nicholai. “What can we do? I doubt Vadim will remain stable. If the gods require him again and find him hiding in the industrial district, I don’t think he’ll have the ability to stop them from manipulating him again.”

  “And we had no luck with Dimjir,” Umbriel added, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. “He claims only a small handful of the lesser gods harbor resentment, but they are amassing more followers by the day ... and, unfortunately, they are the most volatile of them all. The other lessers hold no grudges with mankind, but do not wish to take up hands against humanity’s tormentors, as they could easily slay them.”

  In the heaviness of the room, Brack laughed. “Slay them? I thought gods were immortal.”

  “To a degree,” Mimir chimed in as he leaned up against a nearby wall. “Just as man can kill man, god can kill god. If you ask me, Dimjir is wise not to meddle with that lot. It’s one thing to possess a weapon hand-forged by the lesser gods from the realm in-between ... it’s a whole different challenge entirely to get close enough to those warmongers to use it.”

  Kazuaki visibly delighted at Mimir’s confession that gods could die. A bit too much for the lesser god’s comfort. But before either could speak, Umbriel interjected.

  “There’s no way we could acquire a weapon from their realm. Only lessers, themselves, can bring one of their holy creations into the physical world. But I do have another option for us to try ...”

  The others perked with interest, save for Revi, who still drowned in apprehension for his daughter’s fate. He finally managed to release his grip on Nicholai, allowing the Time Father to cast a curious eye toward Umbriel. “What option is that?” he asked, having heard nothing of it until this moment.

  Umbriel pinched her lips together. “The lesser gods are after the Time Fathers and Time Mother. They know they can’t influence every man, so they’re attacking society’s hierarchy at its top-most level. If they’re going to crawl to the highest chain of command, then so, too, are we.”

  Mimir bristled and drew away from Umbriel. His glowing eyes widened. “You wouldn’t ...”

  She ignored him. “I will not mislead any of you. This will be a very dangerous undertaking. If you do not wish to take part, there will be no assigned blame.”

  The crew exchanged glances with one another before returning their questioning eyes to Umbriel. Brack was the only one anxious enough to ask, to avoid lingering in the crippling wait. “What is it we have to do, exactly?”
>
  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “ ...Mushrooms?”

  Bermuda did not attempt to hide her skeptical expression at the small pieces of fungi that Umbriel held out in her palm. The Earth Mother made a large show of ushering everyone into the deepest part of the woods, reiterating the countless cautions they needed to take, and emphasizing the importance of having a firm hold on individual certitude. But now, staring at the rather unimpressive looking creations Umbriel grew from the ground, the impact lost its punch.

  “Not just any mushrooms,” Umbriel informed. “They’re Pneuma bisporus. Otherwise known as the Spirit Mushroom.”

  Mimir was quiet. He gazed at the fungi with a certain level of consideration, while the others huddled in a circle around the Earth Mother. The lesser god stroked his chin as he sat on a moss-covered piece of shrapnel, silent in his musings.

  Nicholai stared, accompanying Bermuda and the others in their state of disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak, stopped, thought, and then opened it again. “Ah ... Umbriel, it’s ... it’s not as if I don’t believe this will help, but ...” He rubbed the back of his neck, not wanting to come across as unreceptive, “but, how, exactly, will this help solve our problem?”

  “You needn’t concern yourself with this particular task, Nicholai.” Umbriel offered him a gentle smile. “I’m sorry. But your mind is currently too fragile to participate.”

  “Excuse me?” A single brow rose on the Time Father’s surprised face. “What do you mean? I intend to help. This affects my people.”

  “It’s not debatable, Nicholai.” Umbriel tilted her head, sympathetic to the man’s anguish. “The Spirit Mushroom is a dangerous tool, used in archaic times to expand an individual’s consciousness. Its effect is as profound as it is temperamental. Once the mushroom is ingested, the chemicals released will trigger a reaction in the brain, washing away your preconceived limitations of the physical world, as it relates to the unseen realms. It will open the door to places in which lesser gods weave in and out of; where many went to wait out their weaknesses when mankind allowed them to fall away from existence.” She turned to the others. “Our primary goal is to find the Unnamed. The Being responsible for creation. If your resolve wavers even a hair from its objective, if something else clouds your mind from your goal, you will fail to find It. And you will be lost to the manipulations of wherever your mind ends up. I can say with great certainty, you will be taken to a wonderful place. A place the gods who remain there will make you never wish to leave. And that is where you will stay, trapped between realms, until your physical body perishes. You’re too vulnerable, Nicholai. I’m sorry.”