The bike responded, but the act of braking coupled with a jerky turn threatened the mechanism’s balance. Nicholai thrust his foot out, digging the heel of his once refined boot into Southern ground. His heart pumped with a violent unruliness until he realized the cycle decelerated to a complete stop, and he managed to avoid destroying it.
That victory was second to the fact he also managed to not break any bones, though his ribs still throttled with the sting of their previous injuries.
Nicholai patted at his clothing to be sure he didn’t catch fire upon entering the town. Save for a few singed areas, he was no worse for wear. The Time Father dismounted the cycle and pushed it into an alley before he ran out to assess the goings-on.
It was as if the Underworld opened its mouth up to swallow the living. Somewhere, the dividing line between realms gave way, inviting the grotesque abyss of perdition to mingle with the mortal world. He swept both hands through his hair, his eyes darting about, trying to find those he knew. Those he loved.
It was easy to spot the captain. Chaos followed that man wherever he went. It appeared as though he was fighting his way to something. When Nicholai followed the direction the captain tried to carve through the crowd, he spotted Brack, Bermuda, and Granite, as well as Rennington and the footmen. They struggled but held their own against the monsoon of wild men and women. They were so far away. It would take Kazuaki forever to penetrate the crowd and reach them.
A flash of silver caught his attention. Through the sea of bodies, Nicholai caught sight of Umbriel, her movements agile, yet frantic, as she climbed through her environment. A commanding woman followed her every move, wielding a bow and arrow. The Time Father’s stomach squeezed when he saw the goddess draw back her shaft and fire.
The arrow pierced Umbriel’s shoulder through the back. The Earth Mother seethed as she stumbled, catching herself before she fell to her knees. She reached back, trying to grab it and rip it out to allow herself to heal the tissue. But Havidite was fast. Umbriel spun around to face her, striking a defensive position.
Havidite smirked, another arrow lined up.
“Naphine will kill you,” Umbriel uttered, the soles of her feet sliding in a pool of spilled blood. Though her mother lived on opposite sides of Umbriel’s ethics, the goddess still loved her daughter. Of that, Umbriel was certain.
Havidite laughed. The sound was cold. Her body barely moved, as she did not want to disrupt her aim. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Her arrow released, but not before her perfect aim was disturbed by the chain wrapping around her throat.
The arrow vanished somewhere into the crowd, bouncing off a mortal’s shoulder before it clattered to the floor. Havidite dropped her bow, freeing her fingers to claw at the chain around her neck. She gasped for air, bucking as vessels burst in her crazed eyes.
Umbriel gasped, glancing at Nicholai as he gripped his Chronometer and chain. He held it tight around the goddess’s throat. The metal of the god-forged gift dug into her flesh, leaving marks in the shape of the links. He tore his eyes away from Havidite long enough to find Umbriel. “Run!”
The Earth Mother bolted, knowing Havidite could issue Nicholai no harm. She ripped out the shaft in her shoulder with a wince, returning life to the damaged muscle and flesh.
When he could no longer locate Umbriel in the crowd, Nicholai released his grip. He fell away from Havidite’s wings as he clutched his Chronometer in his hand. He only wished to save Umbriel; he did not wish to destroy anybody.
Havidite gulped for air, her hands around her throat as she scorned the Time Father with bloodshot eyes. A temporary confusion danced in her pupils, but when she saw the Chronometer, she knew. With a huff, the Goddess of the Harvest disappeared, wishing to distance herself from the man who could harm her, but she could not hurt.
Bermuda tripped as she backed up into a cadaver. She utilized her unexpected position to her advantage. Several quick jabs into the thighs of those who towered over her brought some to their knees. Others needed more convincing.
The quartermaster no longer looked human. She appeared to be more of a figurine, carved from scarlet wax. The fluids of no less than a dozen men and women showered over her, seeping into the crevices of each fold of skin and corner of armor. But the blood did not belong solely to them. Many lucky hits coaxed her insides out of the skin suit that encased her. She was not alone.
Granite dripped from his brows to his boots as he whittled his way through a horde.
Brack appeared much the same, but worse. One of his arms dangled from his shoulder, limp and severed from the socket. An advancing group of civilians surrounded him. Some wielded falchions stolen from the corpses of dead footmen. Others were content to fashion weapons out of found rubbish.
With his back pressed up against the walls of one of the few buildings that remained standing, he stared at the seven approaching bodies. One-armed and enduring a crippling blood loss, he knew the odds were not in his favor. “Right.” He inhaled, savoring the small bits of freshness that lingered in the burnt oxygen around him. His axe settled into his only functioning hand. He would go out in the blaze of glory. There was no other way for Brack Joney to exit the world. “Here we go.”
Gunfire dominated the screams of panicked people. One by one, the bodies before Brack fell. Boom. Fall. Boom. Fall. Seven times their heads exploded from shotgun shells. He watched, shocked, as they crumpled to the floor.
The man gazed about, trying to find the location of his savior, but the environment remained too frenzied to pinpoint the source. “Thanks,” he uttered to the ether, knowing wisdom remained in paying respects, whether one knew where fortune stemmed from or not. He dashed off into the crowd, not wanting to find himself backed against that wall again.
Smoke wafted from the barrel of Bartholomew’s shotgun as he stared out the window of his home. His eye remained fixed in the weapon’s sight. A single tear ran down his jaw as he watched the lives of the people he shot, his people, drain away into the earth.
Olnos grunted, unable to disguise his frustration at the rate in which his influenced army fell. Though a large number of Southern civilians remained, cowering in corners across the town, they were running out of mortals to possess. The God of Metal knew they could not seize control of everyone. Corruption was their goal; decimating mankind and waving their retribution like a victorious banner. But they could not turn everyone. Whether the gods wished to admit it or not, they needed mankind more than mankind needed them.
“Havidite,” Olnos growled, stepping back beside her. “We need to fall back.”
“Never!” She turned to him with acid on her tongue. “We have only whispered our anger to these people. We cannot leave until we scream it! For us, Olnos. For Panagea!”
“We can torch the city until it is reduced to ash. We have. But if we kill every human, there will be none left to feed us their prayer.” Olnos narrowed his eyes. “You must think wisely, Havidite. We cannot help Panagea if we are dead. We shall continue this. But not here.” He turned to Kazuaki, scowling at the immortal as he watched him obliterate another lesser god. “Not with him.”
Havidite followed Olnos’ gaze to the immortal captain. They had no recourse against him. Their armies could not destroy him. He was the only wrench in their grand design. The air clogged with ashes of dead gods and goddesses all around his person. She knew Olnos was right. These people would fight until there was nothing left. She couldn’t let her ego destroy their chance of success.
They needed to regroup and restart. Panagea was vast. They could resurrect their efforts elsewhere with more success. Somewhere far from the reaches of Kazuaki Hidataka. “Fine.”
Channeling a message to the other lesser gods and goddesses across the mental network that connected them, Havidite vanished in a whirlwind of feathers that swirled from her wings. All that remained were two tattered, dappled feathers, which floated down until they settled on the blood-stained cobblestone.
Cowering citizens loo
ked on. One by one, the omnipotent beings sent the people final chastising looks. Then they faded into the atmosphere. After several short minutes, all that remained of the lesser gods was the aftermath they created.
A river of red flowed through the cracks of every imperfection in Seacaster’s stone streets. The fountain in the town center, once a pristine gush of clear water, was tainted pink with diluted fluids of the bodies that fell inside it. The fire raged around them, threatening to finish what the lesser gods started. Surviving footmen put the last of the turned humans down, as mercifully as they were able to.
Umbriel panted, leaning with one hand against the wall of a standing building. She gazed at the inferno that surrounded them, the blaze reflecting in her eyes.
The Earth Mother jumped at the touch of a gentle hand settling onto her shoulder. She spun, taking in the sight of the being who stood behind her. “Dimjir ...”
The God of Mercy gave one small nod. He looked out over the ravaged battlefield, across the countless souls who summoned him. “I am sorry, Umbriel. Please, remember, we are not all as unforgiving.” He lifted his eyes to the heavens and closed them. “Fear not. Help is on the way.”
She followed his eyes to the sky, confused. When she moved to direct her gaze back to his face, he was gone.
A drop of water hit the bridge of her nose. Umbriel lifted her hand, touching the liquid with the tip of her finger. It was clear. Her attention shifted once more, back to the sky where Dimjir had looked. Soon, the sparse droplets turned to more.
The thin material that made up her clothing clung to her body as a monsoon fell from above. Diluted, the once scarlet liquid swirled around her bare feet. The rain’s elixir washed away the blood on the streets and doused the fires. Umbriel closed her eyes. The heavy nectar from the skies streaked down her skin. She silently thanked the Goddess of Rain, who Dimjir undoubtedly summoned.
Kazuaki gazed on at the ground, his shoulders rising and falling with each tortured breath. Despite the help from the rainwater, he still looked like a demon, covered in chaos. Though he felt the gaping hole in his internal organs close, as all his would-be fatal injuries did, the entry wound remained. That was no surprise. What came as a shock was that it still burned, unlike any other injury he had experienced before. He’d deal with it later. His interests rested more in those who managed to survive.
He spotted Bermuda first. Even across a large distance, she found his eye like a lighthouse at sea, piercing through the fog of the hell that surrounded them. Brack and Granite stood beside her. And Umbriel. He frowned, unsure when she entered the fray. At least she looked unharmed.
Survivors crept from their hiding places with terrified optimism. Mothers and fathers clung to their children’s small hands, poking their heads out to peer at the Southern footmen left standing. To the crew. To the strange, black-haired man who somehow succeeded in slaughtering omnipotent creatures.
With the fire doused by the strong rains, all fell silent. Only the splattering of raindrops on the earth sounded. But over the noise of the falling water, a single set of clapping hands met the captain’s ears. He turned, squinting. Two familiar figures lumbered toward him.
Mimir, the source of the clapping, approached with a huge grin as rainwater vanished into the shadows of his body. Jernal, following at the lesser god’s heels, held an immovable look of caution on his face.
“Well done, Captain.” Mimir gazed to the sky, where the ashes of dead gods and goddesses were brought down to the earth by the heavy rain. “You killed many. But when compared to the number of lives you saved, my gods ... it’s incredible.”
“Mimir.” Kazuaki’s eye narrowed as he straightened his posture, though the wound in his stomach prevented him from righting himself fully. “I thought you were in Southeastern.”
“Oh, I couldn’t miss this.” The lesser god stood before him, an arm’s reach away. “Your most glorious moment. Captain Kazuaki Hidataka, the savior of mankind. A monumental deed deserves a monumental reward.” His glowing eyes flicked to the wound in his gut. “And it appears you got one. You look good. Some might even say you look ...” He paused, shooting his focus to the captain’s eye before his face split into a mad grin. “ ...cleansed.”
At that moment, each truth fell into place. Kazuaki knew everything. The reason Mimir risked his life to pluck the katars from the god’s realm. The reason he shed light on the location of the god’s war. The reason for it all. He touched the hole in his stomach, knowing now why it did not feel as all his injuries past did.
The subtle grip of immortality faded from him. A single, heroic, good deed. Saving the lives of many, to make up for the life he took out of greed long ago.
The mermaid’s curse was gone.
Kazuaki’s eye grew dark as he stared at Mimir. “This may have cleansed my soul,” he uttered, rain slithering into the facial hair on his jaw, “but I am not dead yet.”
“No.” Mimir nodded in agreement. “Not yet.” He reached over, pulling Jernal’s falchion out of its scabbard and handing it to the soldier. He knew, as a lesser god, he could not harm Kazuaki. “The time has come to repay your debt, Commander. What a stroke of luck that he is weakened from battle. Kill him.”
Kazuaki flashed cold eyes at Jernal, breathing heavily. The soldier took the handle of his falchion. He did not move. He stared at the newly mortal legend before him, thinking back to every shared moment. Every attempted good deed they tried to perform in Northwestern. Every time the captain and his crew showed a thorough, honest interest in the survival of one another. Every life the captain saved in Southern today when he slew the gods who doomed them.
Panagea needed Kazuaki Hidataka.
Jernal looked at Mimir. He wanted nothing more than his freedom. But the cost was too high. He threw his falchion to the wet stone on which he stood and squared his shoulders. “No.”
From the expanse, Bermuda stood on the tips of her toes, trying to make sense of why Mimir stood on the battlefield with Kazuaki. When she saw the lesser god hand Jernal his falchion, her heart sank. In a single moment of understanding, the hair on her arms stood on end. “No.” She broke out into a run.
“No?” Mimir turned to Jernal, a look of offense painted on his face. “If you do not honor your commitment, Commander, you will be forever indebted to me until the day you die and beyond.”
Jernal nodded, his posture grave. In his head, he whispered his farewells to his wife and children. “I know.”
“I see.” Mimir frowned. He turned away from the disappointment that was Jernal and looked at Kazuaki. “Well, dead or alive, Captain, it matters not to me. You will find your death eventually. But you still made the deal. You belong to me.”
Bermuda’s heart thundered as she shoved her way through the people who slinked out of their hiding places. Her boots splashed through the collected pools of rainwater and blood as she forced her way to Kazuaki.
The captain turned to face her. The look in her eyes as she ran to him. The panic. The pain. He remembered them. It matched the expression of the false Bermuda from his time spent in the in-between. He looked to Mimir. Under his contract, he could not destroy him. But Bermuda could.
With all the strength he was able to muster with his wounded stomach, Kazuaki hurled a single katar toward her. The blade eviscerated the ground, the tip driving into exposed dirt left beneath the upturned stone.
As she ran, her hands seized it. Her fingers anchored around the handle. Mimir stood only ten feet away. Bermuda released a war cry as she swung, her target Mimir’s neck. But the steel met nothing. The lesser god disappeared, taking both human pieces of his property with him.
She died inside when she felt no touch of flesh on her blade. Bermuda spun in a circle, searching everywhere, the eyes of countless citizens, footmen, and the crew upon her. Her chest rose and fell with each panicked breath. Rage and loss boiled in her gut.
He was gone. Mimir did it. He got everything he wanted. Everything he had his eyes on from the st
art.
The quartermaster drew her head back as a wretched, anguished scream flew from her throat and disemboweled the sky. It echoed through the broken city, joining the smoke and the ashes of the lesser gods Kazuaki destroyed.
The consequences of his bargain came full circle. He gained his mortality. All he ever wanted. Bermuda’s arms shook. The price was too high. She dug the blade back into the ground and leaned on it for support as she hung her head, water dripping from the strands of hair that dangled past her jaw.
After hundreds of years of walking Panagea and traversing her seas, the legendary Captain Kazuaki Hidataka was gone.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Navigating through the various towns of Eastern brought about an illuminating experience. The varying degrees of health Elowyn spied along the way, only served to showcase the unpredictability of her division’s state.
It was mostly the cities that were reduced to ash, but some residents were too stubborn to abandon the places in which they grew up. Other towns looked scarcely affected at all, most of their structures still in good standing, having avoided the raw power of Panagea’s historical disasters as well as the lesser gods’ wrath. Most villages lived somewhere in the middle of ‘adequate’ and ‘extinction’.
That was where Brendale fell on the scale.
The people who remained on the streets did not hide their avoidance toward Elowyn. They moved out of her way without a word, some even going so far as to cross the street to elude her. She did not blame them. No one knew that beneath the horrifying visage of armor plates and threatening blades, a small woman stood. The only thing the citizens saw, when she barreled down the cobblestone, was a warrior. And though that warrior wore the attire of an Eastern footman, the public still could not surmise whether the armored individual was friend or foe.
The Panagea Tales Box Set Page 89