The Panagea Tales Box Set
Page 147
“Elowyn.” Granite gritted his teeth as he slammed together the skulls of two oncoming attackers. “We are outnumbered.”
“The Chronometer is here.” The medic deflected an attack, throwing the aggressor over the side of the airship’s railing. She looked to see Bermuda and the Time Father squaring off before hearing the thunk from the body hitting the floor. “We just need to get it from Vadim!”
Granite grunted as an arrow sank into his bicep. He ripped it from its location and tossed it aside. “Captain said a Time Father must be the one to gift it back to the gods.”
Ducking to avoid an oncoming attack, Elowyn sank her dagger into her opponent’s fleshy underjaw. Kicking the body off her blade, she redirected her focus to over her shoulder toward Granite. “Or Time Mother.”
So many bodies. So many obstacles. Granite kicked an opponent out of his way, but it only granted him a clear view of Bermuda and Vadim for a moment before more piled in front to block him. “If I can get to Vadim, I can obtain the Chronometer.” Blood poured down his arm, and he looked to Elowyn. “But without the captain, we have no willing god who will destroy it.”
Elowyn doubled over when a blunt staff struck her stomach. Before it cracked onto her spine, she twisted, dropping her weapon to grab it with both hands. “What about a willing goddess?” she called back, straining.
Kekona. Nerves struck him at the thought. He didn’t know why. It seemed, though, as Granite surveyed the destruction that littered the deck—and the destruction that surely awaited them if they continued to try to fight an army with only four people—that they had little other choice. Gazing over the shoulders of his countless aggressors, his gaze landed on Bermuda and Vadim. The two continued to square off. The silver glint of the supernatural pocket watch bounced off the Time Father’s chest with each attack.
He needed to get that Chronometer.
With a thunderous war cry, Granite plowed through the four opponents before him. Pointed objects met his skin, leaving burns in his ribs and arms. He reached out, his fingers only inches from Vadim’s neck, before a handful of grown men latched onto his back and forced him to the floor.
“Quartermaster!” Granite growled, trying to push himself up from his vulnerable position. “The Chronometer!”
Bermuda’s ears pulsed with Granite’s words. She felt her heart’s wild cries for rest, her muscles throbbing from the effort they exerted. Vadim approached her, panting as well, with his arms outstretched.
“I didn’t want it to come to this. I truly believed I had found a new existence here, free from life’s little trials.” He stepped forward, fearing no recourse. “But I cannot let you go on bringing harm to my goddess.”
“Don’t waste your words on me,” she wheezed, saliva flying from her mouth with each heavy breath. He’d need them—his words—to explain himself in whatever afterlife he would travel to when she was through with him. She wished to say as much to him, to follow through with her threat, but her depleted energy simply wouldn’t allow it. She needed to save all she had, for that final push.
A cry leapt from her lungs as she swung.
Vadim ducked, but his throat was not her target, no. Just the chain around it.
With the blade’s tip catching one of the links, the force behind her swing snapped the chain apart. Bermuda leapt forward, seizing the falling object in her palm, before she rolled out of the way of Vadim’s downward thrust.
Blood from fallen bodies stained her palms and knees. She forced herself upward. Bermuda’s hair, matted by sweat, clung to the sides of her jaw. She pushed it aside, to see if the behemoth had freed himself from the pile of bodies that tackled him. He had, but not without injury. “Granite!” Bermuda threw the Chronometer his way, hoping the short call for his attention would be enough for him to catch it.
It was.
The lifted arm left him vulnerable. Havidite’s horde of followers still surrounded him. Exposed ribs were met with a spear as one of the goddess’s puppets drove it into his side. Granite grunted, closing his fingers around the Chronometer. He turned, his other hand wrapping around the weapon’s shaft. A quick jerk threw the wielder from his position, but the pointed stone attached to the pole remained buried in Granite’s flesh.
“Goddess Kekona,” he rumbled between clenched teeth, feeling the sting of his injuries radiate through him. “I need an assist.”
It was less than seconds. Less time than it took for an ear to perceive the sound of a snapping twig, less time than it took a freshly lit lantern to illuminate the space around it.
Kekona appeared.
Placed before Granite and Havidite’s followers, the people gasped at her sudden appearance. It startled them, their surprise drawing them away long enough that Kekona had the luxury of time to look over her shoulder. She wore a smile, overjoyed to hear the voice of the man she had formed an animalistic attachment to.
When she witnessed the blood that stained his clothes, the holes in his body, the spear still sticking out of his side, her smile dissipated. An instant, feral rage replaced it.
The goddess’s neck twisted. Her face snapped toward Havidite’s horde. It was true; Granite had expressed no mutual interest in sharing her affection, but what she had seen in him—sensed in him when she walked through his lifetime of memories—Kekona’s mind and heart and body had been given to the man that day. Whether he chose to share his life with her or not, to Kekona, Granite was her mate, her alpha—the fated partner who ignited her pheromones and, for the first time, gave life to her primal lusts.
The scent of his spilling blood made her hair stand on end.
Her pupil shrank to pinhole, and shifted into feline-like slits.
Her lips curled upward, revealing jagged fangs that replaced her once-perfect teeth.
A rabid froth emanated around her twitching mouth. Her gaze pierced through Havidite’s followers and straight into the Goddess of Harvest’s eyes. “What have you done?” Kekona snarled, her head lowering as her features became more animalistic.
Havidite scoffed, wrinkling her nose at the sight of Kekona’s rage. In the countless years she had known the Goddess of Animals, she had never seen such a display. A sliver of fear crept through her feet at the sight of it. Havidite overpowered it with composure. “He would have been fine,” she spat back, only craving the death of the Steel Serpent, “if he only sat still.”
Kekona’s mind rang, a high-pitched squealing she had never known before. The byproduct of untapped savagery. Something about the scent of Granite’s blood kindled the feral beast inside her. Her pupils widened, turning black. All-encompassing darkness filled her eyes. Fingernails warped into talons, claws. Kekona’s bare feet dug into the airship’s deck, leaving scratches behind from where she launched into a frenzied attack.
Havidite barely saw it coming.
“What are you doing?” Panic filled Havidite. She raised an arm, unprepared to fight her fellow goddess. Her hand rifled to her side, searching for the mace she had packed. It was meant for the God of Salvation if he put up a fight; she never expected she’d be using it on the Goddess of Animals.
Kekona’s inhuman jaws sank into Havidite’s forearm. The goddess shrieked, fumbling to pull the mace from the belt at her hips. She managed to free it and swung at Kekona’s face. A direct hit, but the feral goddess refused to let go.
Vadim tore away from Bermuda, reaching for Havidite. “My goddess!” Horror painted his face as he watched Kekona strip the flesh from his deity’s arm with one untamed jerk of her neck.
“Kekona! Restrain yourself!” Havidite pulled her mangled arm to her chest, cradling it as she backed away. She could leave—should leave—but it meant sacrificing the chance to end the Steel Serpent’s life. It dangled so precariously on the edge of death. “I will give them the Chronometer! I wish to return the power of time to Panagea, same as you!”
If Havidite’s pleas penetrated Kekona’s animalistic fury, they did nothing to stop her. The tendons in her hands bulge
d to the surface, and she snapped at the air—only because she missed Havidite’s flesh.
Havidite tried another frenzied swing. Her mace brought blood to the surface of her opponent’s flesh but did nothing to stop her. “Kekona!”
It was seconds.
Only seconds.
It was the last word that Havidite, Goddess of the Harvest, ever uttered.
Her back hit the floor. Kekona sat on top of her. It looked unnatural, horrifying. All eyes gawked as the Goddess of Animals sank her serrated teeth into Havidite’s throat.
A gargled cry bubbled from the new holes in Havidite’s neck. She managed a final weak hit with the mace.
Her arm flopped back to the deck, limp.
Then, silence.
Still in her primal state, Kekona jerked her head from side to side, Havidite’s throat still wedged between her jaws. The goddess’s palms splayed flat on the floorboards, a forceful growl rumbling through the trail of blood that snaked down the side of her face, her chin, and her chest.
Lurching over the fallen body, Kekona’s shoulders rose and fell with each hefty breath. It wasn’t until the edges of Havidite’s limbs turned into ash and dissipated in the wind that any semblance of sanity returned to the Goddess of Animals. She unhinged her jaws. Havidite’s lifeless torso fell to the floor with a thump.
The invaders’ mouths gaped open in revulsion. One invader vomited where she stood.
Kekona’s watchful eyes followed their every movement. When the blackness fell from her glassy orbs and the normal ivy-green hue returned, she ran her tongue across her lips. The act smeared hers and Havidite’s blood across her skin. “Disband,” she ordered the humans, a feral tone still clinging to her voice. “Return to your forests. Forget your goddess. She is dead.” Her gaze gave volume to one unspoken addition: If they failed to adhere to her demand, she would work tirelessly to somehow find a grave for them to fill as well.
Whether by manipulation from Kekona or fear from her veiled threat, many of the invaders scattered. Some clamored down the ropes, still attached to the airship’s ledge. Others did not find this a fast enough retreat. They took their chances leaping over the sides, hoping the branches of nearby trees would break their fall.
Vadim stepped forward, staring at the remains of his goddess. His knees buckled. Both he and his blade hit the floor. “Havidite,” he whispered, liquid pooling in the corners of his eyes.
Bermuda frowned, gazing at the back of his head. If the goddess who manipulated him was dead, would he return to his old self? Judging by what she had seen of Emont in Southwestern, she doubted it.
She could kill him, one quick swing to separate the head from the shoulders. He was in the perfect position for it but listening to the choking gasps of sadness coming from his front, the quartermaster wavered. Without Havidite to propel him, she determined that Vadim Canmore wasn’t much of a threat anymore.
Granite, taken to one knee, steadied his breathing as much as he could. He kept one hand on the Chronometer, the other still grasping the pole of the spear embedded into him.
Elowyn rushed to his side, sliding her pack of medical supplies off her shoulder. “Let’s have a look at that.”
Ashen-faced, Penn stared at Kekona with a vacant expression. Gods damn. Was this what the crew witnessed on a daily basis? He had seen some shit—some horrible shit—but that …
That display put the horrors of the orphanage where he grew up to shame.
Wiping the rest of Havidite’s blood from her lips and chin, Kekona redirected her concentration to Granite. The sight of him softened her still-feral features, and, by the time she ushered over to kneel by his side, she looked fully human again and placed a tender hand on his shoulder “I have herbs and medicines back in Southwestern that will heal you.”
Granite kept his composure by taking in slow, purposeful breaths. Though his body screamed from the wounds it had earned during the battle, the pain paled in comparison to the resounding question at the forefront of his mind: What in the world did he say to her after that wildly unexpected exhibition? By the time he collected his thoughts enough to speak, Elowyn beat him to the punch.
“It would take too long to return him to Southwestern,” she said, pulling her suture kit, among other necessities, from her bag. “I’ll have him back on his feet in hours. I haven’t met a weapon yet that’s slowed down Granite.”
The behemoth repressed his cringe as Elowyn pulled the spear from his side. She quickly tended to it. It was with luck that Havidite’s minions were discarded day laborers who fled to Northwestern and not skilled warriors. The spear could have penetrated much farther if its wielder had possessed more strength.
After stealing an undetected glimpse of Kekona, Granite swallowed as his attention focused on the wound Havidite’s mace caused. “You’re wounded.”
Kekona touched the tender injury site. It burned, left her feeling hazy in the mind. She forced a smile through her blurring vision. “I’ll be all right.”
He did not appear convinced but soon remembered the object still clutched in his palm. “Elowyn.” He failed to disguise his flinch as she ran her needle through him. “This is for you.”
The medic’s focus redirected from the task at hand and landed on the crimson-stained Chronometer Granite offered her. It looked small in his massive palm. “Right,” she breathed, putting finishing touches on Granite’s sutures before she grabbed it.
It felt good to hold one again, almost too good. Her thumb traced the silver still shining despite the coat of blood. Upon catching the lust in her reflection’s eyes, Elowyn sucked in a breath and removed it from her line of sight. “What was it that Nico said when he gave it to the captain?”
Bermuda sidestepped Vadim’s weeping body, keeping a sharp eye on him as she addressed Elowyn. “I’m sure as long as it’s spoken with intent, the sentiment will be the same.”
The medic blinked, regarding the Goddess of Animals. She cleared her throat, hoping to make her words rise above the strange purring sound the woman emitted, upon her proximity to Granite. “Kekona … your emergence has helped us greatly. With Kazuaki detained somewhere in the forest, I’m afraid we must ask you one more favor.”
The goddess’s head tilted, as a curious cat’s might.
Holding out the Chronometer, Elowyn’s chest expanded from her inhale. “From the Time Fathers—or, Time Mother, in my case …” She blushed, realizing her speech had already gone awry. “Well, I … we are returning the gift of the Chronometers to the gods, that Panagea can regain the power of time. You are the only one present with the power to destroy it.” She found the goddess’s eyes, unsure why her heart pounded with such speed. “Would you … do the honors?”
Kekona pushed her hair from her face, her attention on the shimmering object in Elowyn’s palm. She outstretched tender hand, a stark contrast to the clawed fingers that had shredded Havidite’s flesh not moments ago. “Given back with honest consent. I would be honored.” She lifted the chain from Elowyn’s grasp. “I have only ever wanted Panagea to return to her full force.”
The four crew members watched as Kekona placed the Chronometer on the floor. Rising to her feet, she lifted her leg, and, with all the power she could muster, she crushed the object with her heel.
Chunks of glass remained in her skin when she lifted her foot. Fragments of gears rested under shattered chunks. The face of the watch had split into five pieces.
Granite spied the glass in her feet and lifted his gaze to see her. “Are you all right?”
The inquiry lifted her, made her feel weightless. Kekona swelled, smiling at the kneeling man through the throbbing in her temples. “I am as well as I have ever been.”
“Much as we owe you more than we can ever repay,” Elowyn started, taking count of the rest of Granite’s injuries, “I really should get him inside and properly tend to these wounds.”
Bermuda glimpsed at the exchange between the others before she looked back to Vadim. The Time Father had
finally stopped sobbing. His expression seemed to assume an overwhelming confusion. His eyes stared forward. He seemed terribly lost, but for how disparaging his appearance was, he still held the identifiable emotions of a human. “How come he’s not like Emont?” Bermuda asked, without taking her eyes from him.
The Goddess of Animals lifted her chin. She tilted her head as she beheld Vadim. “At times, the characteristics of the god or goddess who manipulated the individual bleeds through into the mind. It stands to reason that he would come here to the wilderness, given Havidite’s penchant for growing crops.”
The confession made Bermuda frown. The Vadim she remembered, when old Northwestern burned to the ground, may have been reminiscent of the Goddess of Harvest. But the pathetic man kneeling before her reminded her very little of Havidite. “What will become of him now?”
Kekona leaned down, balancing on one leg as she plucked the exposed shards of glass from her foot. “That is up to Vadim.”
With a hand on her hip, Bermuda turned to the others. “We should clean up these bodies, get him on the floor and let him figure it out for himself.” Her gaze turned to the wilderness, and she squinted in the hopes to see farther. “Someone should alert Kazuaki that we took care of the Chronometer, before he wastes more time looking for Vadim in the forest.”
Kazuaki. The name made a troubled expression steal over Kekona’s face. “Salvation. He may be detained.”
Narrowed eyes snapped toward Kekona. Bermuda’s muscles tightened. “Why’s that?”
The goddess lifted her head, her brows pulling together. “While Havidite’s throat rested between my jaws, I saw her last conversation with the God of Metal.” She smacked her lips, if only to get the lingering taste of iron and blood off her tongue. “I believe he intends to end Salvation’s life, in the woods.”
Elowyn shrugged, sewing the last of another one of Granite’s wounds. “Captain won’t fall so easily.”
Bermuda grew rigid, surveying the forest. She traipsed to the rope that hung over the ship’s deck and wrapped it around her metal hand. “He won’t,” she murmured, hoping her body could handle the descent. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”