“I’m not—” Nicholai paused, sighing. “I know Darjal has been in my head. I know, in a few instances, I haven’t been ... ‘myself’. But I need to do this, Umbriel. The more of us who participate, the better our odds are of reaching this Unnamed and requesting Its assistance.”
“The Unnamed does not play favorites in the affairs of men or gods,” Mimir chirped from his place in the corner. He busied himself picking the petals off a small flower he found on the ground. “It only abides by universal law, none of which the lesser gods are breaking. You’re wasting your time.”
Revi paced, restless, as the others discussed the plan. Dried leaves crunched under the force of his boots. “This is pointless,” he growled, stopping to face the others. “What the hell is this thing supposed to do for us anyway? We can’t defeat the gods ourselves, so what, we invite an even more omnipotent one into the shit storm that’s Panagea?”
Umbriel frowned, more from frustration born of the circumstances than Revi’s attitude. “I understand it sounds desperate. That’s because it is. The Unnamed created mankind. Perhaps It will take pity.”
“I doubt It feels pity,” Mimir muttered, twisting the now destroyed flower between his fingertips. He flicked the stem away, bored with it. “It didn’t feel anything when it condemned me to that well.”
“When you find It, if you find It,” Umbriel said, casting Mimir’s words to the wayside as she looked out across the others, “beseech It. If It will not help on Its own accord, perhaps It will show us the way to help ourselves.”
“Fine,” Bermuda said, holding out her hand. “Shell out the mushrooms, then. Let’s find this thing.”
Umbriel curled her wrist inward, pulling the contents in her palms back toward her chest. “It is not as simple as all that, Bermuda. We need someone to stand vigilant and guard us. With the lesser gods running amuck, and the men and women of Panagea falling victim to their manipulations, we cannot be too careful, even out here in the forest. The Spirit Mushrooms will render us paralyzed. We will, in all essence, leave our physical bodies behind. The only way to return is through sheer force of will.”
The quartermaster drew her shoulders back and inclined her chin, looking out over the collective. “Any volunteers?”
“With respect, Revi,” Umbriel interrupted, resting a gentle hand on the unstable man’s arm, “I believe you should sit this one out too. Your head and heart are clouded with concerns for Avigail. I suspect the gods would capitalize on that heavily, should you not reach the Unnamed.”
The man scoffed and lifted an arm as if that would somehow sweep away her cautions. “No, if this thing is all-knowing, I want in. Maybe It can tell me where Avigail went.”
Umbriel shook her head. “It is your very concern for Avigail that will prevent you from reaching the Unnamed. It’s best if you stay guard.”
Even the Earth Mother’s supernatural serenity could not calm Revi Houton. He tried to temper himself, but his growing rage was evident. “If I stand a chance at finding her—” he started, through clenched teeth.
“You have no chance,” Umbriel interrupted, blunt, but kind. “Your mind is chaos, and understandably so.”
“Revi,” Kazuaki snapped his eye toward the man. “Stand guard. You’ll be a hell of a lot more useful to Avigail if you’re not trapped between realms.”
The man closed his eyes. His fingers balled into tight fists and shook with boiling rage. He wished to hurl his arm into a tree but stopped himself. Sense lived in the captain’s statement, but it did not make accepting it any easier. Standing watch demanded much of him, with only his imagination of what happened to Avigail left to keep him company.
He almost hoped they endured an attack. Circumstances as they were, Revi itched for a therapeutic release. Slamming his pent up aggression into the body of an attacker would be welcomed. Though he said nothing, Kazuaki sensed his acceptance.
“I’ll guard,” Granite offered, crossing his hulking arms. It’s what he was best suited for. That, and he did not wish to abandon consciousness, knowing Mimir showed an avid interest in his dog. His trust for the lesser god was nonexistent.
“I can stand guard,” Jernal said, having stood quietly against the trunk of a tree as the crew laid out their plan. “I’ve had enough of gods and god-related things. The last thing I want to do is enter their realm.”
A scoff from Kazuaki deflated the soldier’s offer. “We’re not going to make it that easy for you to off us,” he muttered.
Jernal’s eyes narrowed to slits. “If I wanted to off any of your crew, I’d have done it by now.”
Ire lived in the captain’s face. He glared at Jernal. “Say that again,” he started, taking a step toward him.
“Easy, Captain,” Mimir clambered from his spot and wedged himself between Jernal and Kazuaki. “The commander will issue no harm to your ...” He glanced at Bermuda and made a face. “ ...belongings. I will make sure of it.”
Kazuaki’s gaze flattened. “Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“Captain,” Granite’s booming voice commanded attention. “I got it.”
It was with a lingering hesitation that Kazuaki scrutinized Granite’s offer. He knew the behemoth could handle Jernal alone; even greater were his odds that Revi would be present to serve as an additional hand. Though it did not sit well in his gut, he withdrew his apprehension upon the realization that he had little choice. “All right.”
“Umbriel,” Nicholai stepped forward, “I still think you’re making a mistake. I can help.”
She spun around and laid her hands on his face, cradling his cheeks between her palms. Warmth radiated from her. Her eyes found his. “Nicholai, you have an incredible heart and a passion for assisting everyone. I know you want to believe you can do this, but you are the Time Father of the Southeastern division. The risk is too great. If you were to fall to the tricks of the realm in-between, if you were to lose yourself to that place, Southeastern would be in a terrible position. I know you love your people. It is for your people that you cannot contribute.”
Nicholai saw the determination in her. He knew he could not change her mind. That it stemmed from genuine concern for his well-being was of small comfort, but he surrendered with a small nod.
Umbriel offered him a comforting smile before she turned toward the others. “Our chances of reaching the Unnamed are small. If you find yourself elsewhere, amongst the lesser gods, they will do anything necessary to trick your minds into staying. Take heed. Nothing is as it seems. Focus on the Unnamed. If you don’t make it, you must wake yourself. Ignore the fantasies. Focus on returning to your body. Please, my friends, hold tight to that knowledge. It may be the only thing that gets you out alive.”
Bermuda held out her hand once more. “We know the risks. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
Umbriel drew in a large breath and placed a small handful in Bermuda’s palm. Then Kazuaki. She approached Brack and Penn, then tilted her head. “Are you two sure you wish to partake?”
Penn shrugged, apathetic as he held out his hand. “I’ve eaten worse things.”
Umbriel smiled. She saw through his detachment as if it were glass. His hand shook with a nearly invisible fear, but he projected none in his mannerisms. Penn Elmbroke knew he was of little use in hand-to-hand combat, but he did not shy away from rising to any occasion that benefitted his chosen family. “There you are then,” she said, placing the Spirit Mushrooms in his palm.
Brack smirked when she gazed at him. His face held a cockiness to it. It differed from his usual self-assuredness. “You’re aware of the dangers, Brack?” Umbriel hovered the fungi over his waiting hand, hesitant to give it up.
“Don’t worry about me none, love,” Brack winked. “Not my first go with Pneuma bisporus.”
Umbriel blinked, perplexed by his admission, but she did not have time to explore it further. She placed the mushrooms in his hand and turned to the others, cradling the remainder of the harvest in her palm.
“All right. Good luck, everyone.”
Kazuaki stole a glimpse of Bermuda from the corner of his eye. As if she felt his gaze upon her, she turned to it. He knew she was a capable woman. More than most. But he couldn’t shake the growing feeling of concern that she might lose herself to a faux world, should she fail to reach the Unnamed. “Don’t ... forget to come back,” he whispered.
Half a smirk formed on the quartermaster’s lips. Her eyes reassured him. “They could never hold me,” she whispered back, throwing the mushrooms into her mouth.
Nicholai watched as the crew consumed their hallucinogenic morsels. It was a slow wait for the ingredient to take hold. Umbriel eased herself down into a sitting position and appeared to meditate.
Brack showed an obvious absence of fear. He hunkered down and laid on his back, crossing his arms behind his head to serve as a makeshift pillow. With one leg bent at the knee, he laid his other over it, bobbing the foot up and down, carefree as he waited for the aftermath.
Kazuaki watched Umbriel. Having no experience with the product, he thought to follow her lead, but the pose she assumed wasn’t his forte. He felt the weakness grow up his legs as the paralysis started to take hold. He lowered himself to the ground, his back pressed up against a gnarled tree trunk for support.
Bermuda seated herself on the opposite end of Kazuaki’s tree, resting the waning muscles in her neck against the bark. Her head bobbed as immobility crept through her. It was a strange thing to surrender herself to vulnerability. She despised the feeling of weakness in much of its forms, but the necessity outweighed the detestation.
Penn’s eyes darted back and forth, assessing the others. The more his limbs ceased to respond to his brain’s commands, the harder his heart thundered in his chest. He tried to steady his breathing, tried to remind himself this was for his comrades. Though not of his own blood, he’d die for them. And for a moment, he thought he might.
Penn was spared his horrifying thoughts as he slipped away from consciousness with the others. It was quiet then, with nothing more than the sounds of the beast’s tail wagging through a pile of dead leaves and Mimir picking absentmindedly at something beneath one of his fingernails.
Nicholai honed his focus on the lesser god. He wasn’t sure if he was always so unobservant, due to lack of sleep or whatever else, but he could’ve sworn the creature did not have fingernails before.
When the others showed no signs of responsiveness, Revi glanced at Granite. The behemoth stared at him, both knowingly, and unamused. “Don’t,” Granite instructed.
Revi bared his teeth, like an animal. “If eating those things can lead me to Avi ...”
“Don’t,” Granite repeated, his order simple and firm.
Revi approached Granite, unafraid. He stared up at him. Though Revi touched six feet in height, Granite easily had an extra foot on him. His voice dropped and took on a coarseness. “Are you going to stop me?”
Granite’s face did not change. Save for his steady breathing, he did not move at all. “Easily.”
Nicholai observed the men bicker. He stole a glimpse of Jernal, who had his back to the arguing men, the only one who served his duty of protecting the unresponsive bodies. His eyes were on the forest, consumed by his task of keeping vigilant for threats.
The Time Father flicked his eyes over to Mimir. The lesser god seemed absorbed by his task of removing whatever unsightly things hid underneath his nail bed. Nicholai took several quiet steps over to Umbriel’s fallen body. He lowered to a crouch, staring at the remaining mushrooms that sat in her limp fingers.
It was getting easier to push the guilt away. He’d had much practice smothering the horrid culpability he lived with over Darjal’s death. But the guilt he’d have to add to the growing pile if he did not attempt to help the situation ... the situation he created ... he did not trust his ability to oppress that.
With swiftness, he palmed the mushrooms and stood, readjusting his vest as he glanced at Revi and Granite. They continued to argue. He took several paces away and sat, popping the mushrooms into his mouth and swallowing them down before he changed his mind.
Umbriel stood a chance at making headway with this Unnamed ... but Kazuaki, Bermuda, Brack, Penn ... he respected them all greatly for varying reasons, but their skills rested in things aside from diplomatic appeals. If there was a man who was right for this job, a man who could implore pity from the Unnamed with the right words ... he hoped it was himself.
In the near distance, Nicholai thought he heard Revi relent. He must have realized he’d stand no chance at making it past Granite. Just as well. There were no mushrooms left to take.
The dizziness was hard to get used to. Nicholai hoped it wouldn’t last long. It felt very much like the fatigue he tried to ward off for the last week or two, however long it had been. The days seemed like one long, drawn-out blur. He couldn’t remember.
The weight in his eyelids pulled them closed. They opened only for a moment, a flicker, when he felt rustling leaves nearby. A figure crouched near him, but he could not focus. For a moment, Nicholai thought it was the beast, and awaited an uninvited tongue to find its way to his cheek. But the familiar voice of Mimir whispered into his ear instead.
“Safe travels, Time Father. I must say, I admire your courage. Very inspiring.” Mimir grinned, though Nicholai was too far gone to see the look on his face. “I may pay a visit to the lands in-between, myself.”
It was the last thing he remembered. That, and his overwhelming intention to find the Unnamed, to beg for a solution to the hell he unleashed on Panagea.
Chapter Twenty-One
The gulls were cawing, as they always did. It was strange the way they screeched, though. Bermuda remembered hearing them her entire life, particularly when she and Kazuaki claimed the small piece of land the ocean cupped on all sides. It was almost as if her brain didn’t recognize the sound. Like she’d never heard it before. But that was impossible ...
The gulls always cawed. She was sure of it.
She sat on a large, flat rock that jutted out of the sand. It was an odd place for a rock to be, but she adored this spot. Her legs carried her here almost every day.
Bermuda saw the horizon line of Panagea from the small island where she and the captain made their home. Close enough to visit, yet far enough away to keep peace and freedom at the forefront of their daily life.
The smooth surface of the boulder always warmed under the sun. It felt amazing on the soles of her bare feet. The temperateness radiated up through her ankles and into her legs. Whenever her feet first hit the rock, the warmth spoke to her so much, that her toes curled involuntarily, as if trying to scrape more comforting heat into her skin.
A boat bobbed up and down with the waves, tied to a small dock she and Kazuaki crafted by hand, not far from her sitting place. She smiled at the memory. There was a lot of swearing involved, as neither of them was a craftsman, but sheer determination and hard work eventually brought it to fruition.
Bermuda closed her eyes and inhaled. Salt. She loved the scent, and the air was full of it. A cool breeze blew her hair aside while a more energetic wave crashed her rock, spraying droplets of the sea onto her exposed legs and feet. It was a wonderful reprieve from the sun’s rays above.
Movement on her right caught her attention. Bermuda glanced over her shoulder, watching as Kazuaki stooped down to join her on the rock. He eased himself down slowly, donned in the casual attire of a man with no responsibilities. He joined her in looking out at the ocean for a moment, before he turned to the woman, his black hair tied back to stay out of his eyes.
His eyes. Bermuda tilted her head. There was something ... off about that. His irises still reflected every bit of the man who kept her heart. That soothing sea green. The kind of green that showed in the waters during thunderstorms. Everyone always considered the ocean to be blue, but Bermuda did not share their opinion. Kazuaki held the ocean in his eyes ... the jade of the deep wave, with the white sea foam of his corneas su
rrounding it.
He smiled at her. It was that rugged kind of smile that wasn’t really a smile at all. But it was classic Kazuaki. The only way he knew how to show contentment. His expression was candid. He slid his hand toward her, a silent invitation to enjoy the touch of one another.
Bermuda felt her stomach soar, even at the slightest touch of his skin on hers. She returned his smile and looked down as she slid her left hand over his. Flesh on flesh. That, too, was off.
Her delight faded at the sight. Umbriel’s warning flashed through her thoughts. She knew, then, and sighed. “Shit ...”
Kazuaki frowned. He tilted his head. “What’s wrong?” he asked, voice low.
Bermuda closed her eyes and allowed the mild devastation to sweep through her. His voice was perfect. Down to every small pitch and inflection. The false Kazuaki the gods had made for her was seamless in almost every way. “I didn’t make it,” she forced herself to say.
His unscarred hand slid over hers, engulfing her delicate fingers in his. “To where?”
The warmth from his palm felt so real. “To where I’m supposed to be,” she said.
Kazuaki frowned, but a dim laugh followed. He lifted his hand and gently raised her chin with it so that he could find her eyes. “This is where you’re supposed to be.”
His gaze had the wonderful ability to stop her heart in its place. For a moment, she considered how happy she’d be to die here. It almost had her. But her lips pinched together, and she shook her head. “Yeah ... someday. I’d rather it be real when I get there, though.”
The Panagea Tales Box Set Page 74