The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  Attempting to steady his increasing heart rate, he looked back at the others. “Let’s get on with it then,” he ordered, motioning them along. “There are only three divisions left. I want to finish this thing.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Emerging from the edge of the densely packed forest, Kekona glimpsed the trees that had fallen from Kazuaki’s grenade. A frown dampened her perfect face as she crossed her arms. Some of the anger had yet to subside regarding the damage, but alliances needed to be made for the greater good.

  Emont came to a stop at her side. He crouched, more comfortable closer to the ground than in a bipedal position, and sniffed at a nearby patch of clover.

  “I’ll start preparing the ship for launch as soon as I check on Penn,” Bermuda said, touching Kazuaki’s arm as she strode past him toward the ship.

  “Come on, love.” Brack motioned her to follow with a nod of his head. “Press that sweet body against me, and I’ll pull you up with me.”

  A silent eye-roll promptly shadowed Brack’s statement, but Bermuda trailed after him regardless.

  “I’d better lend an assist,” Rennington muttered, grinning quietly while he glimpsed the others. “She may not be fully operational, but I’d bet she could still kill him if he gets handsy.”

  As the three headed back to the ship, Kekona held out an arm. In seconds, several blackbirds perched upon it, careful not to hurt her with their talons. They dropped some berries into her waiting palm. She whispered something to the sleek feathered creatures before they flew off, their caws swallowed by the treetops. “These berries will keep Emont sedated,” she informed, tossing several onto the floor near the wild man’s feet. As he curiously inspected them, she held the remaining few out to Nicholai. “He should eat them willingly if you leave them on the ground. I have always brought him food, but he’s grown accustomed to foraging for it.”

  Nicholai nodded, scooping the berries into his hand, as Emont’s nostrils flared. The former Time Father winced when the feral man pluck the berries from the grass and shove them into his mouth. It seemed inhumane to throw his food on the floor … but if that was what Emont was used to, perhaps it was best to stick with it. “Thank you, Kekona. I wish things had gone differently in many ways, but I’m grateful for your assistance.”

  The goddess nodded, her eyes like steel. “I could very much say the same thing to you, Mr. Addihein.”

  “Yes.” He nodded, slipping the berries into his pocket as Kekona handed him Emont’s leash. Looking around at her broken forest, he frowned. “I don’t doubt that you could. Best of luck to you.” With a final acknowledgment, he turned, gently urging Emont to follow along behind him. It took some convincing; he’d likely have to wait until the berries found their way to his stomach before he saw their effects, but the man was already starting to display calmer tendencies on the walk from the willow tree to the ship.

  Granite stared after them, watching as Nicholai was forced to give Emont a few encouraging tugs. “I will help him.”

  Before he stepped out of reach, Kekona placed a hand on his arm. “Please,” she urged, softening her expression, “do not leave without bidding farewell to Kita.”

  By the time Granite turned around to face the imploring goddess, the wolf had already limped from the thick forest’s edge, and up to the behemoth’s feet. A genuine look of joy eased onto the man’s face. He leaned down far enough to allow her to smell his hand. Kita responded with a timid lick.

  “She’s fond of you,” Kekona commented with a placid smile.

  Granite reveled in the touch of fur once again. If he were to close his eyes, he could almost pretend just for a moment, that he was petting the beast instead. “I am fond of her as well.”

  Kekona stood a little taller, a hopefulness invading her spirit. “You could always come back and see her. Any time.”

  Was she still so enamored? Granite stole a glimpse of her, petting Kita a final time before he straightened his posture. It was strange. He barely knew her. And yet, surrounded by the sounds of the forest’s creatures, far away from any town that housed the masses of humans he never cared to understand, living out his existence in this place didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world.

  Maybe she was using her powers to manipulate him.

  Maybe it was her irrefutably alluring body.

  Or maybe he just hated people that much.

  “I have something I have to finish before I make any plans for my future,” Granite replied.

  The look of hopefulness blossomed into something more concrete. Kekona smiled, and when she bowed her head, strands of leaf-cluttered hair fell from her shoulders. “I understand. Know that there is always a place for you here, Granite.” She looked up, her appearance reflecting the sincerity of her invitation. “Do come back, if you’d like.”

  Would it be so crazy? This woman’s animal magnetism seemed to wriggle its way into his mind. The proposition was insane … but incontestably intriguing. Granite looked once more at Kita, though he directed his words to Kekona. “I might.”

  The goddess’s chest swelled as she inhaled. “Music to my ears.”

  Granite stared at her for a while, studying her, questioning his response. Stuck in an assessment of the goddess’s words and actions, the two lingered beneath the favorable light that snuck through the leaves overhead.

  Growing impatient, Kazuaki coughed into his fist. “Are you finished?”

  Pulled from his reverie, Granite offered a fast nod. “I am.”

  “Good.” The captain shifted his focus, looking to see if Bermuda and the others made it to the ship’s deck yet. He doubted very much that Nicholai would have any success in getting that feral man up there by himself. “Help Nico get Emont on deck. We’ll drop him off in Southern on the way to Northwestern.”

  “Northwestern?” Revi perked up, his eyes widening to life. Leaving that place without finding Avigail had been torture; he made her a promise—he made himself a promise—that he would not leave unless she accompanied him. Yet another vow he had broken, when he left Northwestern to rejoin the crew after Kazuaki returned from his perceived death to Mimir. He was more than eager to return. “I’m on it. I’ll have him up there in two minutes.”

  Kazuaki watched Revi dashed away, outpacing Granite in his run toward the ship. Sensing Kekona’s gaze drilling into his back, he turned, offering her a final farewell that lacked in ceremony. “Well … that’s that.” One half-assed wave later, he spun to follow the others.

  “Salvation,” Kekona called out, her hand resting atop her waiting wolf’s head.

  An unheard grumble left Kazuaki’s lips when he turned, planting the end of the spear he held into the ground. “What?”

  Her flat expression met him upon his rotation. “Are you keeping that?” The goddess nodded toward the weapon.

  Glimpsing the spear in his hand, Kazuaki studied it before leaning it against his shoulder. Northwestern awaited him: land of the gods. The gods that, to the credit of most recent memory, banned him from ever returning there. “I believe I will.”

  “Hm.” Kekona knew his answer before he uttered it. “It doesn’t suit you,” she replied. “I will not go against the others and bring you anything else that may harm them, but I will not stop you from taking it either. I am sure that once you discover how to get to the realm in between by yourself, you can trade it for something more acclimated to your style.”

  Her statement should have brought him reprieve; it was meant to be a compliment, after all. Instead, Kazuaki found himself frowning. The realm in between. He hadn’t much desire to go there. To go would be a silent admission to himself that he belonged there. That he was indeed a god.

  And damn it … he did not want to be one.

  Without another word, he attempted to leave again. Kekona stepped forward and reached out, grabbing his arm.

  The touch startled her enough to make her wince.

  It was a lot of existence to take in with a single touch. A lot of memo
ries. It was difficult to absorb everything that Kazuaki Hidataka was … as there was almost too much to absorb. It was unlike any other amount she had ever soaked in from contact with another individual; but with it came knowledge. With knowledge, came understanding. “You and I are not cut from the same cloth, Salvation.” She released his arm and took a step back.

  He wasn’t sure what she saw when she touched him; the look on his face said he didn’t care. “You needed to wade through my memories to figure that one out?”

  The captain’s cynicism did little to deter her. “The people may have birthed you as a god in charge of deliverance and saving lives, but we both know that you still cling to much of your former self.” Her tone softened, but her gaze remained firm. “You and I may never fully see eye to eye, but I sincerely hope you find a balance between Kazuaki Hidataka: merciless, immortal legend … and Kazuaki Hidataka: God of Salvation.”

  Her words surprised him. He didn’t think they would. Thinking back to how he had left things with Naphine in Northwestern, his grip tightened on the spear. “You may be the only god left who does.”

  The statement softened her further. His words had come out rough. Jagged. Inside them however, nearly unheard by the trained ear, a hint of something lived. Something vulnerable. Kekona pressed her lips together and flung her hair over her shoulder. “The gods have long regretted giving the gift of time’s control to mankind. That we were able to make them forget how to isolate and expedite time individually was only a small gain for us in our efforts to get that power back. If you are truly out to return the power of time to Panagea, I will speak with the others. I will tell them you mean no harm.”

  A brow flew up on Kazuaki’s face, barely visible from beneath the patch that covered his missing eye. A good word? He hadn’t earned many of those before. An oral approval from Kekona might smooth the jagged impression that he’d left with Naphine. Perhaps then he could discuss a cure for Bermuda. Though it burned his tongue to admit gratitude, he could not risk the chance of her withdrawing her offer. “I’d … appreciate it,” he forced himself to say. “The last time I set foot in Northwestern, I was banned from it.”

  “Yes.” Kekona’s relaxed expression tensed. “I saw that memory. Naphine mourns for Umbriel’s loss in much the same manner as you. She may not have shown it through her actions,” the goddess explained, “but she loved her daughter very much.”

  A muscle ticked in Kazuaki’s jaw as he cast his gaze to the side. Inability to show adoration to loved ones. A considering noise rumbled in his throat. “I know a little something about that,” he muttered. Believing their conversation to be complete, Kazuaki spun, preparing once more to return to the ship.

  “Salvation.”

  Stopping in his tracks again, Kazuaki pinched his eye closed. How much longer would this woman delay him? He twisted, wordlessly staring at her from over his shoulder.

  “I will do my best to subdue their aggression toward you and your crew,” Kekona announced, looking nothing less than flawless as she stood in the sun’s warmth. “But if the Steel Serpent is in attendance, I cannot promise they will all be receptive.” Her expression reflected her uncertainty, and she shifted in her stance. “Much anger remains over her slaughter of their brothers and sisters. Based on your performance when I nearly executed your crewmate, I am sure you understand.”

  Kazuaki stared at her, biting his tongue. There was nothing to say. Yes, he understood that vengeance did not die with time. Bermuda earned her animosity, just as any assassin did. All he could do was nod before he headed toward the ship.

  Going to Northwestern was a necessity. There was no doubt about that.

  Keeping Bermuda from the vengeful gods and goddesses that remained there was a requirement too. Even with the spear, he could not kill them if he had any hope that they would eventually yield to his requests to save her life.

  Kazuaki cursed as he grabbed one of the ropes and pulled himself closer to the deck. Beseeching the sympathy of resentful gods and goddesses would be difficult ... but not nearly as difficult as convincing Bermuda to stay out of their sight on the ship.

  Chapter Eleven

  Readjusting his hat, Nicholai strode toward the airship that sat outside of Seacaster. With Brack at his side the entire way, the journey to find suitable accommodations for Emont had been far from quiet. Nicholai welcomed the man’s vocal spiritedness. The constant chatter kept the stabs of emotional duress from creeping into his chest.

  Brack bounced up the airship’s ramp, practically skipping until he reached the top. Nicholai forced a smile, pleased to see joy in someone. If ever there was one individual he could look to when he needed a hefty dose of jovial human spirit, it was Brack ‘The Rabbit’ Joney.

  Nicholai was quick to spot Kazuaki when they reached the top of the ramp. The captain leaned against the cabin walls, arms crossed. The former Time Father hadn’t asked if he wanted to attend in securing Emont’s well-being. Much as the god would have certainly liked to see Bartholomew again, stepping foot in Southern was not among the sacrifices he was willing to make.

  Brack whistled a tune until he spotted Kazuaki. “Cappy!” He pointed a finger, winking at the god who brooded in his corner. “Remember those songs the little kiddies used to sing about you? About ol’ Captain Hidataka, slaughterin’ and maimin’ them and what not?”

  Kazuaki arched a brow. He chose not to respond. It did little to deter Brack from continuing.

  “I’ll be damned if the lyrical pendulum didn’t swing in the complete opposite direction as before.” He laughed, slapping his knee while he bent over.

  The captain’s jaw tightened. He kept a sharp eye on his comrade. “I have no desire to hear anything about—”

  “Found myself in a bad situation,” Brack sang, bobbing his head to the beat, “danger infiltration all across my nation, put my hands together with no hesitation, bowed my head and prayed to the God of Salvation.” He stopped, pointing now with both hands at Kazuaki as his amused grin split his face in half. “That’s you,” he whispered.

  When a moment of silence followed, Kazuaki fell into a false sense of security, thinking perhaps Brack had finished. He should have known better. The Rabbit took a breath to continue.

  “Now I’m—”

  “Rabbit!”

  Biting his tongue, Brack halted, though his grin remained ever-present. “Right-o, Cap. Shuttin’ my yap.” Pretending to zip his mouth shut, he gave the god a salute, before slipping into the door that led to the cabins.

  Nicholai watched as Kazuaki pinched the bridge of his nose. He walked over, stopping at the captain’s side while rubbing his neck. “They were awfully catchy,” he muttered, recalling how the children counted as they sang and skipped ropes. From what he had deduced, every successful jump they achieved without tripping over their rope, signaled another god or goddess that the great God of Salvation had slaughtered in Seacaster. Whoever achieved the most jumps won. Nicholai saw one child get to thirty-two before she finally stumbled over the cord.

  Kazuaki slid his hand down his face, peering at Nicholai with a flattened stare. Despite the attempt at lightheartedness, he saw through the man. His deflection mechanisms were transparent. Behind the comments about catchy children’s rhymes was a man in a crippling amount of misery.

  “Bartholomew and Kal assured me that they would find a good place for Emont,” Nicholai said, a weak chuckle leaving him as he coerced a half-hearted smile. “He should be okay. Yeah. He’ll be fine.”

  Gods dammit. It was pathetic. Kazuaki closed his eye, tilted his head back, and slowly rolled his neck before he puffed out his cheeks. “Are you saying that because you believe it,” he asked, “or because you’re trying to convince yourself it’s true?”

  “Hm?” Nicholai turned his attention to Kazuaki. “I don’t doubt that Bartholomew and Kal will find him suitable accommodations.”

  Kazuaki waited. Waited for Nicholai to say more. Admit more. When he didn’t, the captain grumbled. “B
ut?”

  A moment of silence claimed Nicholai before the weight of Kazuaki’s penetrating stare made his rigid shoulders collapse. “Come on. You saw him, Kazuaki. He’s hardly a human being at all anymore. It doesn’t really matter what the rest of his life is like, does it? He’s not even lucid enough to know what’s going on.”

  Finally. Progress. “Emont knew what he was getting into when he signed on to be a Time Father,” Kazuaki muttered.

  The statement made a muscle twitch beneath Nicholai’s eye. A visceral reaction to the captain’s words. “Yeah.” Nicholai swallowed, looking away. “Maybe.”

  So that was it. He knew it. Kazuaki cocked his head, analyzing Nicholai further. The man needed help. It was a long time coming, and he couldn’t stand the sight of him writhing in his contempt anymore, disguising his anguish with forced laughter and self-deprecating commentary. It was unproductive, first and foremost; and it was unlike the Nico that he preferred the company of. Pushing himself off the wall he leaned against, Kazuaki swatted Nicholai in the stomach with the back of his hand. “Follow me.”

  Looking down at where Kazuaki struck him, Nicholai’s brows pulled together. When he looked up to watch the captain head into the cabin doors, his quizzical expression remained. “Why?”

  Stopping just inside the frame, Kazuaki raised his hand to his mouth to help carry his voice. “Revi!” he barked. “Set a course to Northwestern! To wherever it is you last saw Vadim.”

  On an upper deck, Revi leaped from the crate he sat upon. The order was music to his ears. “On it,” he spat out, rushing across the deck to get the airship off the ground as soon as humanly possible.

  Certain that Revi would have them airborne in a matter of seconds, Kazuaki motioned Nicholai to follow. Then he disappeared into the darkness of the ship’s interior.