The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  Nicholai wrinkled his nose. He ducked through the door to avoid knocking his hat off his head. He trailed Kazuaki through the narrow corridor, as confused as he was curious. Tracking the captain’s movements to the galley, it felt almost as if he were back on the old sea ship. Kazuaki was an enigma then too, but despite losing a year of their camaraderie to Mimir, Nicholai knew that he could trust the god to give him brutally honest advice.

  He needed some of that right about now …

  Kazuaki pushed the galley’s doors open and stepped inside. Across the cramped room, Penn stood with an open liquor bottle, swiping occasional sips as he scrubbed the pots and pans made dirty from the breakfast he had prepared earlier. He stared wordlessly at the two as they entered, the bottle suspended near his lips.

  “Go on,” Kazuaki ordered, nodding his head toward the door.

  Penn swallowed the mouthful that lingered on his tongue. He glanced back and forth between his captain and Nicholai. His superior wore a serious face. That was nothing new. He glimpsed his sink full of dishes and shrugged. “All right,” he mumbled, heading for the exit.

  Reaching over, Kazuaki plucked the bottle from Penn’s hands before he left. The cook scowled, though he corrected his insubordinate expression quickly when he saw the captain set the container on the counter. “Glasses are in the cabinet,” Penn muttered, motioning to the cupboard as he slipped out the door.

  Three strides brought Kazuaki over to the cabinet. He retrieved two glasses and placed them beside the bottle before he carelessly poured the amber liquid into each one. The sound of the engines starting outside made the flooring rumble. Tiny saves in the drinks tumbled about as Kazuaki sat, pushing one of the offerings toward Nicholai.

  The former Time Father cringed. “What are you doing?” he asked, trying to remove any potential impoliteness from his inquiry. “I don’t drink.”

  Kazuaki grabbed his beverage and slammed it into the back of his throat with one gulp. “I think a better question to ask,” he said, exhaling sharply as he returned the glass to the table, “is what are you doing?”

  “What do you mean?” Nicholai’s brows shadowed his eyes, and he took a seat across from the captain. “With what?”

  “The Chronometers,” Kazuaki replied, pouring himself another drink. “All this business we’re doing right now.”

  Nicholai stared at Kazuaki’s drink. For the briefest of moments, he thought he caught his reflection until the rising airship jostled the liquid inside. “I’m … trying to make sure nobody can use time as a weapon anymore.” He paused, scratching the side of his face. “Bringing equality to the people is—”

  “Is that what you’re doing? Bringing equality to the people?” Kazuaki sat back, draping one of his arms over the frame of the chair. “Or are you trying to kill the thing responsible for destroying all of those you’ve lost?”

  Drawing back, Nicholai splayed his fingers flat on the table. “I beg your pardon? I’m—I’m not out to kill anything,” he spat out, looking admittedly aghast. “I’m a humanitarian. I always have been. I’m doing this for the people.”

  Kazuaki kept a sharp eye on him, unconvinced. He held up a finger for every event he ticked off. “Your mother, killed by a Time Father—your actual father, no less. Your lover Lilac, shot down by a man who wanted you to exploit your abilities as a Time Father. Umbriel, slain by a man who craved the power of a Time Father.” Kazuaki paused long enough to take a sip from his second beverage. He exhaled harshly. Bitter, shitty taste. He thought he had gotten rid of all the man-made rubbish aboard this ship. Shaking his head, he turned his pointer finger to Nicholai. “Ask yourself if you’re really out to save people from inequality … or just out to destroy the thing that took away everyone you’ve loved.”

  Opening his mouth to defend himself, Nicholai clamped it shut. He realized he had nothing to say. His thoughts turned to Bermuda; to how she had set out to destroy the things that reminded her of everything she had lost. First her own heart. Then the gods as a whole. Nicholai frowned. Was that what he was doing?

  He couldn’t deny that some part of him hated the Time Fathers and everything they stood for. Ever since he had discovered they were responsible for the eradication of the other Earth Mothers all those years ago, the adoration he once had for the namesake was damaged.

  He thought he could repair it. Thought he could make it something better.

  He couldn’t. He didn’t.

  Nicholai’s gaze fixated on his drink, though he didn’t reach out to grab it. With cheerlessness tainting his voice, he lifted his focus to Kazuaki. “Can’t it be both?”

  Kazuaki stared at his drink, swirling it around in his hands. “It can.” He took another sip before setting the glass down and leaning over the table. “But while you’re busy trying to make sure nobody can use time as a weapon anymore … trying to annihilate the Time Father title, and ensure that minutes and seconds and years carry on equally for everyone … try to at least be somewhat aware that you’ve put yourself in a position where time stands still.”

  The words washed over him, striking him with the same force that the ocean waves once pelted Kazuaki’s ship with. Nicholai hunched over the table. His elbows spread out as he mulled over the captain’s observation. “Have I?” he asked pointlessly, knowing full well that the god wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true.

  Leaning back on his chair to peer outside the galley door, Kazuaki assured himself that no listening ears eavesdropped nearby. Though he appeared content with the privacy the two of them had, he lowered his voice anyway. “The only thing that’s going to heal that hole in your heart is time,” he said, thrusting a finger across the table toward Nicholai’s chest. “Time spent processing it. Time spent coming to terms with what happened. Time spent forgiving yourself. Seems you want it to go on ticking for everyone but you … and even though it’s on the other side of a very different coin, that’s not equality either, Nico.” Pausing, Kazuaki slid back into the seat of his chair, cupping his drink in one hand. “You’re better than that. So bite the bullet, bow to fate, and give it time.”

  With his eyes fixated on the jostling liquid that danced in his glass, Nicholai managed a small smile. An astute observation. Kazuaki was full of those. It must have come with age. “And if time doesn’t help?” he asked, lifting his gaze to meet the captain.

  Kazuaki reached over and pushed Nicholai’s drink into his fingers. “There’s booze.”

  Nicholai’s reflection stared back at him as he peered into the cocktail left in the cup. The unsteady trail that the airship blazed rumbled the liquid inside, but he still recognized the telltale symptoms of his crushing circumstances. An exhausted man looked back at him. A man who felt the weight of the last several years. With a sigh, Nicholai grabbed the drink, lifted it, and took a quick sip. His face soured and he cringed, accosted by the liquor’s strength. A hot breath leaped out of him as he shook his head, trying to acclimate himself to the burn it left in his throat.

  With stillness, Kazuaki stared at him, waiting for him to recover.

  Swallowing the remnants of the scorching drink down, Nicholai puffed out his cheeks. Warmth. He felt it when it hit his stomach. Tossing a considering gaze to the unaffected captain, Nicholai managed half of a smile. It couldn’t have been easy for Kazuaki to lower himself into a vulnerable place just to dispense advice. The effort was appreciated. Holding up his drink, Nicholai tried to maintain composure through the potent alcohol’s sting. “To eventual salvation.”

  Clever. Kazuaki huffed at the double meaning. The kind of salvation that Nico needed to find differed entirely from his own, but he took the gesture for what it was meant to be: goodwill. The only thing that Nicholai Addihein ever wanted for anyone … and the first thing he often forgot to give himself. “To eventual salvation,” Kazuaki replied, clanking his glass against Nico’s.

  Forcing himself to take another drink, Nicholai winced again. Would he ever get used to this incessant burn? “Just how stron
g is this stuff, anyway?”

  Knocking back the last of his beverage, Kazuaki set it down with little effect. “Not very.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Drunk. So drunk. Tripping over his own feet, Nicholai’s face was inches from hitting the deck.

  Kazuaki’s quick hand pulled him up by the back of his vest. The god clenched his jaw, making sure his comrade found his footing before letting go. He could have blamed it on Revi’s relentless piloting, caring little for turbulence while he gutted his way through the clouds toward Northwestern—but he knew damn well that wasn’t it.

  Nico was intoxicated. Painfully, irrevocably intoxicated.

  “Is this … are we going to Northwestern, right?” The former Time Father staggered toward the ship’s railing, grasping the thin bars. He squinted, trying to see the landscape below.

  Not trusting that the inebriated man wouldn’t fall to his death, Kazuaki stood close beside him. Though he was the one who had doomed Nico to his drunken state, the captain still wore a thin veil of annoyance at having to play the role of babysitter. “Yes.”

  “Vadim.” Nicholai let the name roll off his tongue slowly. “Vadim Canmore.” He grinned, his neck lolling as he looked at Kazuaki. “More like … Vadim Can-not-be-a-Time-Father-any-more.” A short laugh left the man as he turned away from the rails and leaned his back against it. “Do you think this time will be it this time, Kaz, Kaz, Kazu …” Frowning at his inability to speak the god’s name, Nicholai abandoned the effort entirely. His amused smile faded at the edges. His eyes lost their focus. “I thought when we brought Umbriel back, the world would be better. The gods … kinda pissed all over that one, didn’t they?”

  Kazuaki nodded, turning to rest in the same position as Nicholai. “They sure did.”

  “Then,” Nicholai continued, his voice rising, “I thought, hey! We have to stop the gods! They’re killing people!” His hands illustrated the story as he splayed them out before his face. “If we stop the gods, the world will be better! But you know what?” His hands fell limp at his sides when he turned toward the god. “I love people, Kazuaki. I want good things for them. The gods though …” His voice lowered to a whisper as if it was some deep, dark secret. “I think they want good things for Panagea. And I think they want good things for the people they didn’t kill. The ones who pray to them, at least.” His words trailed off and he looked away. “And the gods made it so blatantly obvious how much of a divide there is, not just between classes, but psycho-psychologically—the ones who fell so easily to their manipulations, and the ones who didn’t … and I thought, hey, if I just bridge the gap between classes …”

  “You could make the world better?” Kazuaki interrupted, having heard the same speech for the last hour that he and Nicholai had been drinking.

  The man inhaled and let out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah.” Scrubbing at his face, he shook his head. “Now Umbriel is dead and the world still … well, it still isn’t all that great, pardon my saying so.”

  Kazuaki nodded. It was peculiar to hear the unshakable Nicholai Addihein sound so hopeless about the state of the world. Nico may have struggled to grapple with his guilt, but the one constant that Kazuaki could always count on was the man’s inability to write the state of Panagea off as anything other than fixable. As annoying as Nico’s optimism could be, Kazuaki hoped he never lost that. It was the only time the captain thought the world was salvageable. “No. It isn’t,” he replied, hoping to restore a small shred of his comrade’s former self. “Not all of it, anyway.”

  Sliding down into a sitting position, Nicholai draped his arms over his bent knees. Staring at a wall across the deck, he formed a small smile. An adoring smile. A remembering smile. “I really did love her, you know.”

  Umbriel. Kazuaki recalled the way she used to look at him. The way Nicholai would have surely looked at her had his heart not belonged so fully to Lilac Finn. “Yeah,” he replied, sliding down to sit beside his friend. “I know.”

  “I loved Lilac too,” Nicholai said, for once not repressing the guilt that bubbled up in his stomach. “I still do. Both of them.” He twisted his neck to face the captain, resting the back of his head on the metal rails that propped him up. “Do you think it’s selfish, Kazuaki? Is the heart capable of loving two different people so much?”

  A familiar stab of vulnerability jabbed at Kazuaki when Nicholai mentioned the heart. Sentimentality felt like a weakness, and the captain had grown accustomed to shoving those as far away as humanly possible. “I wouldn’t know,” he forced himself to say, for the sake of letting Nicholai get more of his repressed feelings off his chest.

  “Hmm.” Absorbing the statement, Nicholai turned away. He lifted his head to view what few stars he could see through the traveling clouds. “Have you only ever loved Bermuda?”

  It was like a hand squeezing his intestines. Kazuaki froze, regretting every ounce of liquor he had poured this evening, though he had stopped drinking long ago when he realized Nicholai would need a watchful eye on him to be sure he didn’t accidentally kill himself. After much hesitation, he decided the booze he had fed Nicholai might very well act as his saving grace. Even if he admitted to anything that remotely exposed him, surely the Time Father was too drunk to remember it the next morning. “Yes.”

  “I figured.” Nicholai’s smile returned, carrying a hefty amount of hopefulness with it. It was a familiar smile, one the man had not worn in a long time. It felt good to sport it again. “I hope we can find a way to save her,” he said, his words slurring as he fiddled with the brim of the hat he had removed from his head. “I don’t want you to have to experience this, Kazuaki. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

  It seemed Bermuda’s condition was obvious to everyone. Kazuaki pinched his lips together as he turned his gaze skyward. “I hope so too.”

  The sound of howling wind struck their ears while the two men sat beside one another. It wasn’t until Nicholai shifted his concentration to Kazuaki, a grin still plastered to his drunken face, that any other sound filled the area. “This was fun.” Extending a flaccid arm, he found the captain’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “You won’t think it’s so fun tomorrow,” Kazuaki muttered, not at all envious of the hangover that waited in the man’s future.

  “You’re right.” Nicholai leaned forward until he was on his hands and knees and struggled to return to a standing position. “I should go to bed. Or should I … should I apologize to Epifet? I should. I was not very kind to her, and after all she did for me …” Nicholai frowned as he dragged the memories forward. “She was there when Edvard was murdered. Did you know that?”

  “Yes,” Kazuaki said, rising to steady Nicholai as he swayed from side to side. “You told me four times tonight.”

  “Epifet,” Nicholai repeated the word as if saying it over and over would serve as an apology on its own. “She did a lot for me,” he said again, shaking his head. “I know the gods killed a lot of people, Kazuaki … but a part of me does feel bad for them. Could you imagine, everything they did for mankind, and they just … poof … threw them away? Traded their generosity in for, for what? Machines. It’s a shame.”

  Walking Nicholai to the door, Kazuaki hoped to lead the man to his bed and put the evening to an end. “A great shame,” he agreed, for the ease of pacification. “Perhaps it would be best if you save your apology to Epifet for when you’re sober. Your room is down the hall. Third door on the left. That’s your left, right here.”

  Standing in the doorway that led to the cabins, Nicholai stopped. He turned to Kazuaki and grabbed him by the shoulders. “You’re a god now too, Kazuaki.” His grip intensified as he locked eyes with the captain. “I know you don’t want to answer their prayers. I know it. But I won’t let you fall into obscurity, like Darjal, and the others. I promise.”

  Kazuaki grabbed Nicholai’s hands and peeled them off his long jacket one at a time. The mechanical fingers had a harder time letting go than the flesh and blood, but he mana
ged to free himself from the former Time Father’s grasp. “Get some rest, Nico.”

  The man grinned, saluting the captain before he stumbled into the wall. “All right. I’m on it.”

  Watching to ensure he made it safely to his room, Kazuaki waited until Nicholai’s staggering body disappeared inside the proper door. With a sigh that released all the frustrations the evening had brought, the captain spun around, ready to retire to his hammock with the warmth of Bermuda’s body pressed against him.

  Instead, he got an eyeful of Naphine.

  “Gods!” Kazuaki flinched, drawing away from the goddess, whose pale body seemed to glow in the night. After recovering from the shock of encountering the last individual he thought he’d see, he scrubbed his face with his hand and struck a cautious pose. “Naphine.”

  “If only my daughter could see him now,” she murmured, her arms crossed as she peered down the hallway where Nicholai had entered. “Not exactly the son-in-law every mother dreams about.”

  She seemed to be in a better mood from the last time he had seen her. That realization alone relaxed the captain’s shoulders. “Given everything the man’s endured in the last few years, I think he’s entitled to have one drunken night of self-pity.” One, exactly. Kazuaki could not survive another. “If you’re here to deter us from going to Northwestern—”

  The Goddess of Love silenced him by raising a hand. “I know the last words we shared were … harsh.” She drew back her shoulders. “Not unlike your drunken friend, I too feel the weight of my daughter’s absence.”

  Kazuaki nodded, but he knew there was more to it than a natural change of heart. “You must have received word from Kekona,” he accused, still unwilling to abandon all his caution.

  Naphine’s lips tightened, and her fingers coiled at her sides. “The Goddess of Animals insists Umbriel’s love interest wishes to destroy the Chronometers. She claims he has already freed over half of Panagea from their hold.”