“Everyone manipulates the world in their favor, Salvation. Precisely why you’re here now, trying to convince me to spare the life of your companion. Only those who have the drive and power to do so are successful. Thankfully for Panagea’s sake, I prefer to manipulate the world in her favor as well.” Kekona arched her back and slid off the ship’s railing to land gracefully on her feet.
Losing the loose grasp he had on his composure, Kazuaki gritted his teeth. “Do not tempt me to display my drive, nor my power. Should an ill fate come to my companion, you will only live to see it for a short while.”
A slow smile spread across Kekona’s lips. “Oh, my little flower … is destruction all you truly know?” She shook her head, gliding her fingertips across the rails, as she edged closer toward Kazuaki. “A cruel irony, for the God of Salvation. You are but a seedling. You arrived in Southwestern knowing full well that I would be here. If you had the ability, I suspect you would have already ventured to the realm in between, and chosen your omnipotent weapon to assassinate me.” Her expression broadened. She leaned forward, her face inches from his, as she stood on the tips of her toes to reach his height. “But you don’t even know how to get there,” she whispered, “do you?”
He flinched. Kazuaki cursed internally, looking beyond Kekona to see if Penn remained unbitten. He needed a moment to collect himself. To keep from boiling over. It was harder than he wanted it to be.
“A shame,” Kekona continued, leaning away. “As a god, you have unlimited potential at your fingertips, and yet you despise us far too much to take advantage of it. I can feel it. I can see it in your eye.” She tilted her head, analyzing the fury behind his pupil. “For the best, I suppose. The last thing we need is another deity slayer. From what I heard through the channel, your lover has taken out far too many of my kind already.” Pausing, the goddess released a brisk giggle. “Excuse me. I mean our kind. It’s almost silly how much you help them—people—after they turned you into something you hate.”
Kazuaki’s vision pulsed with each heartbeat. Every additional word that fell off her tongue brought more and more blinding rage to his nerves. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Penn’s voice cut in—a daring interjection, given his predicament.
“Do you think you two could speed this little meeting between colleagues along, or …?” If there was more to his sentence, he dared not utter it. Penn already began to quake uncontrollably from the stress of having held himself still for as long as he had.
“Shh.” Kekona spun, placing a hand on her hip and a finger to her lips. “If you move too much, you will startle them. You do not want to startle them, my pet.”
Penn swallowed and clamped his mouth shut. It was but a single moment in his life, where he was willing to take orders without a cynical comeback.
As Kazuaki analyzed the terror in the young man’s eyes, it took all he had not to hurl himself back to Iani’s burial. Gods, he was so young. Too young to die. And Penn, feckin’ hell … Penn was even younger than Iani had been. “He’s barely touched adulthood,” Kazuaki muttered, turning his gaze back to Kekona. “Let him go. He’s got his whole life ahead of him.”
Kekona threw her head back as if she was about to laugh, but she did not. “A life of what, Salvation? Any human creature who falls under your command seems to present a problem for the gods and goddesses of Panagea. Tell me,” she said, her expression turning sour, “why should I allow any of them to live? None of them know the first thing about compassion. They are machines of war, guided by the master of destruction, himself.”
At the base of the ship, the crew panted, having run as fast as they were able from the forest where Kazuaki had left them. Rennington, Revi, Elowyn, and Brack hastily seized the ropes tossed over the side and wasted no time pulling themselves up. Plunking down on the main deck of the ship, each individual eyed Kekona with wary glances, before their focus trailed over to Penn.
“Penny boy!” Brack shouted, disguising the fear in his face. “You good, mate?”
A vein in Penn’s neck bulged as he tensed, trying to speak with the least amount of movement. “I’m minutes from death, what do you think?”
Kekona pulled her attention off Kazuaki long enough to flick a glance over her shoulder. “Oh no, little one. Once bitten, the venom of a pit viper can take upward of an hour before it kills you.”
Silently mouthing the words ‘feck, feck, feck’ over and over, Penn held his breath and tried to soothe his twitching muscles.
Rennington stepped forward, holding up his hands in a peaceful gesture. “We’re not here for any trouble, love.”
“Not here for any trouble?” Kekona’s gaze flattened. “Tell that to my beautiful moose.”
Flinching, Rennington held his breath. “Self-defense, I assure you. We’re just here for Emont.”
“Emont.” Kekona rolled the name off her tongue as if chewing on it would help gauge her memory. “Oh, yes. Is that what his name used to be? My Time Father of Southwestern? He’s been a dutiful companion.” Slicking her leaf-filled hair back, she sighed. “If only Salvation would have reached out to me on the channel first … I could have saved you a trip by simply telling you ‘no’.” Her eyes returned to Kazuaki and she offered a mocking smile. “But you don’t know how to do that yet either, do you?”
Revi rolled his eyes, having grown sick of gods, goddesses, and everything else that plagued him daily after the year he’d spent trudging through Northwestern. “Look, lady …”
Before he could say anything further, Kekona pressed a finger against her lips. “Shh. No,” she replied, knowing full well what he was about to say, prior to him uttering it. “He belongs to me.”
The sound of another body crawling over the airship’s railings, and plummeting onto the deck, met everyone’s ears. Nicholai panted, dusting off his pants as he pushed himself to his feet. Behind him, Granite appeared, joining the others.
Nicholai assessed the situation quickly; Penn’s predicament, the heated wrath in Kazuaki’s face, the mixture of fear and impatience in the others. He stepped forward, removed his hat, and held it close to his chest as he bowed. By the time he straightened his posture, he had caught his breath enough to manage a polite expression. “Kekona, is it?”
The look of confusion on the goddess’s face was unmistakable. “Mr. Addihein. Time Father of Southeastern.”
“You know my name,” he admitted with a fair amount of surprise. A nervous smile followed. “I’m honored.”
Kekona’s expression flattened. “The goddess, Epifet, speaks highly of you, and often. I struggle to believe half of the things she boasts of.”
A fluster of nerves filled Nicholai’s stomach. Epifet. Another unaddressed situation he had yet to make peace with. Guilt climbed its way to the top of all his emotions. That she still spoke highly of him, when his last words to her were not as kind as they could have been, showed the goddess’s poise.
He’d have to make a note to himself, to offer her an apology … if he didn’t die first.
“Kekona,” Nicholai continued, clearing his throat, “contrary to what you may or may not have seen or heard upon our arrival, we are not here to cause harm to your forest. What’s done is done with the land. I’m done trying to decide whether Panagea belongs to men, or gods, or anybody. It’s … it’s all just too gray. I understand why the gods did what they did. I understand why people did what they did, I just …” He shook his head and sighed. “We just need the Chronometer back from Emont. That is all.”
The goddess’s upper lip curled as she sneered. “Typical Time Father. Your craving for power is insatiable. The Chronometer and the power it holds belongs to Emont, Mr. Addihein. And Emont belongs to me.”
Exasperated, Nicholai brought his arms out before him, grasping at the air. “We don’t want the power it holds. We only wish to destroy it. Western, Southeastern, Eastern, and Southern have already been freed from any Time Father’s dictatorship. Our only hope is to free the rest of the divisions
as well.” He dared to take a step forward, keeping his eyes on hers. “The only one that should be in charge of Panagea’s passage of time … is Panagea. Not gods. Not men. That’s all we want. Please.”
Each member of the crew became rigid as Kekona stared at Nicholai. The exterior of her eyes shimmered, and for a moment it looked like hope. She remembered what Panagea once was. A place absent of any concentration of power. A land where people, and animals, and gods, and Panagea herself shared in the equality of time’s passage. When minutes and hours did not play favorites to those who held enchanted pocket watches in their hands and every creature lived and died by the same stipulations as the rest.
She recalled the beauty of what life was before the gods made and gave mankind the Chronometers as a gesture of goodwill.
It was the only mistake they had ever made: trusting humanity with so much power.
It was a mistake she wouldn’t make twice.
“What a wonderful thing that would be,” Kekona whispered, “if I believed you at all.” Her attention whipped to Kazuaki, and she flicked her hair over her shoulder. “My animals are powerless to destroy you, Salvation. I’m afraid you’ll have to stand idly by while I allow them to maim your companions. They shall have no hesitation in doing so. They are fit to show you the same lack of compassion that you have shown to them.” The woman’s bare shoulders drew back, and her eyes filled with a heated sadness as she cast them to the ground. “Only in your deaths will you give back all that you have taken from the world. Your bones shall nourish the earth.”
Chapter Nine
The room felt claustrophobic. What was once a great palace to contain Nordjan’s greatest achievements had turned into a prison cell. It was nothing more than a chamber of torture now, where he waited with bated breath for the moment that the ex-Time Father, Nicholai Addihein, would burst into his quarters and demand to take away the greatest accomplishment that Nordjan ever managed to master in his lifetime.
He had worked hard. Fought tirelessly. He had proven himself decades ago to the people of the Northern division. Technology flourished under his command. The good and industrious were rewarded, and the agitators were condemned. He created a safe place for all of his citizens. A place where they did not have to rely on gods and goddesses. He had earned the Chronometer. For this idealistic child to think he could just snatch it away, under whatever disillusioned guise he invented in his head …
It was enough to drive a sane man mad.
After feverish pacing tired his legs, Nordjan returned to his chair. He collapsed into its waiting arms. A sigh left him, and his shoulders fell. Lifting a hand, he pressed his fingers into the side of his throbbing temple. Perhaps some pressure would soothe his pounding headache.
Half of Panagea now existed without leadership. Half of the continent, absent of structured guidance or authority.
What fresh storm would this bring? Did Nicholai Addihein still fail to learn that he was not meant to change the world? The world had already changed. The elder Time Fathers placed it on the proper course. Nicholai’s continued efforts only resulted in catastrophic failure.
Nordjan had tried to teach him. He tried to reason with the boy when he was new to division leadership and still malleable. He had tried to raise the young man into someone who would maintain Panagea’s regulated course.
Where had he gone so horribly, horribly wrong?
Shaking his head, Nordjan leaned back into the support of his chair. His fingers picked at the edges of the throne’s arms. It was somewhere to channel his agitation. It assisted with his restlessness but did nothing to banish his rising temper.
What exactly was the young Addihein trying to achieve with this ridiculous crusade?
The Time Fathers of Panagea had always controlled the passage of the land’s hours, minutes, and seconds. They were sworn to protect it, to keep it moving fluidly, and without interruption. Sure, there had been those who manipulated it for their own personal benefit. Men existed who had capitalized on the power it brought them; there would always be a few bad bullets in the bunch, but they were few and far between. Those who didn’t play by the rules were always eradicated swiftly and efficiently, with as little public announcement as possible.
Yes, the potential for cataclysmic fallout existed, should any ruling Father wish to stop time entirely as a means for manipulating people. None should know that better than the young Addihein. He was the only one in history who had halted an entire division for more than a few hours.
Nordjan scowled. Nicholai was ever the idealist … even when Nordjan had tried to shape him into a realist. It was a shame that his ideals made him more of a terrorist to the integrity of Panagea.
Was he delusional enough to think he was saving the world from another potential disaster, like the very one he had made? Maybe. It wasn’t as if the history of the Time Fathers was painted in a picture of perfect light. Yes, they had massacred an entire group of women. Killed other Time Fathers who did not follow their rigid guidelines. It was easy to view such actions as aggressive when reading it in black and white, but it was all for the people. It was only ever for the people …
Wasn’t it?
Nordjan swallowed, and sliding his hands down, pulled his Chronometer from his pocket. The weighted watch sat in his palm, catching a shimmer of light from the oil lamp that burned near his side.
The path of good leadership was a difficult one. One not easily understood by men like Nicholai Addihein. People were too different to agree on the best course of action, but they should all have agreed on one thing: they were far too superior to bow down to gods and goddesses.
Nordjan’s fingers curled around the object, and he held it to his chest. He must banish his fleeting moments of doubt. His way was best, even if Nicholai failed to see it. People were wild, naïve; they needed guidance. They required it. Their potential was limitless, given the right supervision. And they would only look to receive it from those who were perceived to be more influential than them.
A lawless land was a primitive land, and that was not the Panagea that his forefathers built. Without leadership, Panagea would surely plummet into chaos.
And even if it didn’t …
The Chronometer was all that Nordjan was. The whole of his identity. Nordjan of Northern, dutiful leader for over half of his lifetime.
He didn’t know who he was without it.
He wasn't about to find out.
It was with relief that his eyes in Southern had alerted him to Nicholai’s plans. The last thing that Nordjan’s hired hand had seen was the airship heading toward Southwestern. It had been a long time since Nordjan rooted for the success of a god … not since he had hired Jernal to free Mimir from the well, in an attempt to claim the immortal Hidataka’s soul.
Yet, sitting in his chair, trying to wrap his mind around how to best protect the thing that mattered most to him … he hoped nothing but the best for the goddess who ruled Southwestern. A flash of inspiration flickered across his glassy eyes, as Nordjan sat up in his chair.
He loathed the gods. Despised them, for all of the destruction that they had caused to Panagea, to its people, to his people, on their manipulating rampage through the divisions of the land. Yes, they were ruthless savages, bent on the destruction of human progression … but, if the goddess of Southwestern could end Nicholai’s life for him … that was something that might be worth praying for.
✽ ✽ ✽
“Serpents,” Kekona commanded, looking over her shoulder. “G—hnn!”
The goddess’s eyes bulged when Kazuaki’s forceful hand clamped around her throat. She dug her fingers into the captain’s skin. At first, noises left her parted lips in wheezes—but they soon turned into strained laughter. “It is done, Salvation,” she rasped, a light in her ivy-colored eyes.
Kazuaki staggered forward after Kekona vanished from his grasp and reappeared behind him. He shifted his gaze in Penn’s direction and saw the man’s pale face. The strained look.
>
Penn stumbled back into the airship’s walls, his fingers clawing for something to grab. He found nothing.
Dangling from his shin was a viper. Its fangs injected through his clothes and into his skin.
Kazuaki turned to face her. Though his words left him in a whisper, they held the full force of a wild war cry. “That was a mistake.”
The goddess lifted her chin, rubbing at the finger marks that already started to bruise on her throat. “Perhaps. I hadn’t considered your bare hands would make a potent weapon.” She swallowed, trying to ease the pain in her damaged vocal cords. “Such things won’t matter, so long as you cannot catch me.”
Kazuaki’s arms stretched out at his sides. His fingers turning rigid as they splayed apart from one another. His head dipped, and he scowled. “Then you’d better start running.”
Nicholai watched as in a blaze of speed, both god and goddess set to battle. Their movements were a blur, nothing he could keep up with under the limits of mortal eyes. He directed his focus to Penn, instead. He tried to run toward the cook but stopped short when a small pile of snakes started slithering his way.
“Okay—one, two—” Nicholai counted them as efficiently as he was able. Their bodies were twined together. It was hard to tell whether one was two, or two was three. Shaking his head, he arrived at six and lifted his mechanical arm. The steel slot slid back with a command from his brain, leaving just enough room for the filled dart to pop out. As long as his aim was accurate, he could tranquilize five of the six.
The first projectile sank into the nearest viper’s open mouth. Twisting and curling into a ball on the ground, the serpent writhed with the injection of the sedative and fell still.
The second and third were easy to strike—they were only feet away, and near enough to one another that it required little shift in aim. Nicholai winced when the snakes took the brunt of his injections. The vials contained enough sedative to take down a grown man. He hoped it wasn’t too much for their little bodies. Angering Kekona any further at this point would be a detriment to them all.
The Panagea Tales Box Set Page 140