The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  Rising to her feet, Elowyn frowned. “With all due respect, Quartermaster, you have orders to stay put.”

  Swinging her legs over the railing, Bermuda sat on the edge as she looked back at Elowyn. “I was ordered here to pacify Havidite. She’s dead now. I’m going to go make sure Kazuaki doesn’t meet the same fate.”

  Elowyn stepped forward. “Bermuda—”

  The sound of the rope scraping against the quartermaster’s iron palms was the only reply Elowyn got. When she looked over the edge, she watched Bermuda running into the woods and disappearing, following the trail of leaves the others’ footsteps had disturbed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The integrity of Kazuaki’s spear deteriorated further. The captain crushed his upper and lower jaw together. He dug the balls of his feet into the pliable earth. In an exchange of blocks and swings, the two gods continued to battle.

  Revi scoured the surroundings for anything that might serve a use in helping. Reflecting on the last year he had spent in Northwestern, his search was futile. Nothing flanked them but trees and plants.

  Brack and Rennington watched with cautious eyes as the two dueled, each man filled with a familiar feeling of uselessness. It was just like watching Bermuda unleash havoc on the gods they had encountered in the past. The quartermaster possessed the only weapon that could affect them, leaving the Rabbit and the Southern soldier as nothing more than helpless pawns.

  Nicholai held his breath. He hadn’t expected an easy walk through Northwestern, but he hadn’t anticipated such hostility either. It was hard to fear for the life of such a skilled fighter, hard to fear for the life of a god. Watching while Olnos plowed through Kazuaki’s offensive maneuvers, however, shielded by his armor and the superior casting of his weapon, Nicholai felt that often unexperienced dread.

  “Do you know what it means to be a god?” Olnos thrust his sword downward. It caught Kazuaki’s spear as the two struggled to gain power over the other. “No.” Olnos’ eye twitched from beneath his helm. “You hardly know what it is to be a man. It is with fortune for all that your reign will be short.”

  Separating their weapons and ducking to avoid the swing he already saw coming, Kazuaki rolled away and rose in seconds. “I may not know what it means to be a god”—he closed his throbbing fingers tighter around the spear’s shaft, feeling the burn left behind when Kekona ran his palm through—“but I sure as feck know how to kill them.”

  Olnos scowled. “You’re welcome to try.”

  Rennington stepped backward and fell in line beside Revi. “He’s fighting on borrowed time,” he whispered, his narrowed eyes fixated on the comprised integrity of the captain’s spear.

  “I can see.” Revi’s arms tensed. He followed the gods’ lightning-fast movements. “What can we do?”

  Kazuaki backpedaled, believing his footing was grounded. The viscous mud beneath his boots betrayed him.

  It only took half a second, a single moment of missed grace. The captain’s eye widened when he saw Olnos attack.

  He had enough time to raise the spear to block, but the weakened staff could stand no more abuse. It snapped. The tip of Olnos’ blade glided down Kazuaki’s chest, slicing his shirt and skin.

  The captain clutched his fresh injury with the hand that held the broken pole. He only had one chance at escape. Sweeping Olnos’ leg, he attempted a bold move, to grant him more time to withdraw.

  The God of Metal stumbled when Kazuaki’s foot caught his ankle but recovered in moments. It was enough of an opportunity to create distance between the pair.

  Kazuaki couldn’t hold in his pained groan. His single eye peered at the gash. It ran down his torso. Scarlet liquid stained his bandaged palm, mixing fresh blood with old as the two injuries he’d acquired from the omnipotent weapons touched.

  Feckin’ gods. It burned.

  What little strength his spear had left managed to save him from a deeper wound, but even the shallow cut bled profusely. He grinded his jaw, sucking air through his teeth. That would almost certainly leave a scar.

  “Your time in Panagea has come to an end.” Olnos stepped forward. His gaze bounced between the two broken pieces of spear Kazuaki held. “Better late than never.”

  The captain’s face twisted. He regarded the broken stick and whipped it aside. Cracking the excess material off the pointed end he still clutched, he discarded that wood as well. Glowering, Kazuaki lowered his head and readjusted his grip on his new, shorter weapon. “I always had more luck with daggers anyway.”

  An amused chuckle left Olnos’ mouth. “I believe your luck has finally run out.”

  The two leapt at one another again, like rabid wolves. Though the shortened spear felt more natural in Kazuaki’s grip, the gutting in his chest hindered him.

  Finding entry points to Olnos’ vulnerabilities proved difficult. The god’s armor covered him, protected him.

  Kazuaki spotted one entrance and seized it. The opportunity to lay into Olnos might not come again. The captain grinded the spearhead into the God of Metal’s elbow joint where the bracers met the chainmail that draped from his shoulder.

  It felt like victory when the small blade oozed into the exposed flesh—but an elbow injury wasn’t enough to kill any man, let alone a god.

  Olnos’ pained growl was enough to invite minor satisfaction, but, as Kazuaki pulled away and watched the god switch his sword from his injured arm to his fully functioning one with little issue, he knew he was screwed. Even if Lady Luck rewarded him with ten more shots just like it, minor wounds like that would only slow his opponent—slow him down and piss him off. He’d have to go for the throat, the small band of exposed flesh where Olnos’ helm met his breastplate. An impossible hit, to be sure. The God of Metal protected his torso with the skill of any warrior.

  But it was his only shot at victory.

  Kazuaki lunged. He cursed when his aim proved inaccurate. The spear tip punched Olnos’ armor, leaving nothing more than a nick.

  Growing familiar with Kazuaki’s wild tactics, Olnos adjusted. It was enough to earn him the reward of sliding his blade across the captain’s ribs.

  A strained noise squeezed through Kazuaki’s teeth. He stumbled away and knelt in the leaves. One hand gripped his ribs. The other held fast to the spearhead. He turned to see Olnos approaching, one steel-clad leg falling right after the other. When he stopped just short of the captain, Olnos’ shadow covered him, blocking the sun.

  Gods, it hurt. He remembered pain. Even as an immortal, Kazuaki still felt the unforgiving bite that iron and steel left on skin. But this … this gash, the one running down his torso, the one across his ribs, the one Kekona had left in his hand—they throbbed with a supernatural force that could only be compared to when Mimir ripped out his eye. There was no prospect of death when he made the trade with the lesser god though. Now, fatality seemed just over the horizon. It made his heart beat faster and stole the breath from his lungs.

  Words were not shared. The God of Metal lifted his sword, gearing up for decapitation. He stopped short when the high-pitched pang of beaten metal rattled his eardrums. Had a bullet just stricken his helmet?

  “Oi! Olnie, my boy!” Brack stood with his arm outstretched, the smoke from the barrel of his gun wafting around him. “If I prayed for better bullets, you think you’d help me out with that?”

  The God of Metal scowled. Such an irritating deterrent. Were it that he could end their lives as well, he would. They were nothing like the men and women who had sense enough to return to their attempts at regaining the gods’ favor.

  Olnos kept his gaze on Brack. He wanted to see the look on the man’s face when he beheaded his captain. With muscle memory guiding him, Olnos swung his blade where Kazuaki knelt. Instead of the satisfying surge of metal through flesh, his weapon ricocheted, vibrating from the object it had struck.

  By the time Olnos tore his focus from the Rabbit, he managed to settle the vibration that ran into his arm. Nicholai Addihein stood before the capta
in, his hands outstretched and a look crafted from pure adrenaline on his face.

  A human. The only thing Olnos, God of Metal, could not pierce.

  So many preventions. An impatient grumble rolled up from Olnos’ throat. “You are only delaying the inevitable. Out of the way, fallen Time Father.”

  “I’d rather just … not do that,” Nicholai replied, a bead of sweat snaking down his temple as he squared off with Olnos. “He’s crass, but I’ve grown quite fond of him. I’m sorry, but you can’t have his life.”

  Olnos’ lips peeled back in disgust. “You have no choice in the matter. You will move”—he stood tall—“or I will move you.”

  A raised index finger tapped the front of his lips as Nicholai closed one eye. “I think you’re forgetting about the whole free will thing.”

  Sightless peasants. Olnos grumbled, flexing the joint that still burned from Kazuaki’s spear. “The Unnamed’s laws prevent me from killing you.” He nodded in agreeance, stepped forward and grasped Nicholai’s vest, pulling him forward. “But not moving you.”

  Nicholai’s eyes widened as the powerful force Olnos claimed tossed him aside, like he was weightless. Any held oxygen fled from his chest when his back struck a tree trunk, and he slid to the base in a sitting position. It should have hurt him. Strangely enough, after recovering from the shock, Nicholai found that he was fine.

  Kazuaki forced his eye open, peering through the matted strands of black hair that hung in front of his face. Was Nico okay? He squinted, trying to see, but the searing cuts in his body drained him of his abilities. The blurred outline of the former Time Father stood to his feet. Good. He got up.

  Facing Olnos, Kazuaki thought he saw a flash of movement behind the God of Metal. His vision was betraying him, turning crisp shapes into fuzzy blobs.

  “All right, Salvation.” Olnos loomed over Kazuaki, raising his chin. “No more distract—”

  Kazuaki panted, gripping his spearhead. Why did Olnos fall silent? Struggling, he rose to his feet, one hand still fixated around his bleeding ribs as he fought to straighten.

  What the feck was protruding from the exposed piece of Olnos’ throat?

  It wasn’t until the God of Metal hit his knees that Kazuaki blinked some focus into his muddled vision. There, bulging from the seemingly unstoppable god’s neck right between that tender opening where his helm met his breastplate was … a piece of wood?

  Kazuaki pinched his eye shut, hoping to bring more clarity to the sight when he forced it back open.

  Yes. Wood—the jagged end of the broken spear he had tossed aside earlier.

  When Olnos’ chest hit the earth, Kazuaki nearly went with him. The captain fell to a knee, succumbing to the agony infecting his body. When he looked up, panting, he saw the sleek silhouette of a familiar figure standing just behind where Olnos once stood.

  “I told you your defense was weak,” Bermuda said, her chest heaving from the aggressive running that carried her exhausted body to the others.

  Kazuaki laid a bloody hand over his chest. He felt every heartbeat radiate throughout the whole of his form. What did he say to her? She had disobeyed his orders to stay on the ship—and yet, he’d never been happier to have anyone so blatantly disregard his orders. Panting, he challenged his legs to hold his weight and uprighted his shaking body. “It was an unfair fight,” he rasped, slicking his hair from his eye. “Sword and armor against a man with a spear?”

  “A god with a spear,” Bermuda corrected, coming to his side to aid him in standing.

  He did not wish to lean into her, fearing her knees would buckle if he made her shoulder any amount of his weight. Still, it felt good to have her body against his. “Not even gods can make good weapons out of spears.”

  “I bet Granite would beg to differ,” Bermuda interjected, her gaze turning toward the direction of the airship as the others came beside her to assist. “He took one to the ribs not too long ago.”

  “Is he all right?” Nicholai asked, stooping to grab the hat that had flown off his head when Olnos had whipped him across the forest.

  “He’ll be okay,” Bermuda replied, encouraging Kazuaki to take slow steps forward after Rennington came to support his other side. “Especially since his girlfriend mauled Havidite like a ragdoll.”

  “My lady of the harvest?” Brack adopted a look of faux sadness as he laid a hand across his chest. “Oh, sad day! She was a heathen, but her body …” He shook his head. “My gods. What a waste.”

  “If you love it so much,” Bermuda murmured, falling in line with Rennington while they walked the wounded Kazuaki to the ship, “you can have what’s left of it. It’s laying on the main deck.”

  Brack’s nose wrinkled, and he drew away. “Sorry, love. I’m an equal opportunity lover, but I draw the line at necrophilia.”

  Rennington readjusted his grip on the captain’s body as he tried to spy Bermuda from over Kazuaki’s head. “Are the others okay?”

  “Penn is probably traumatized more than he already was,” Bermuda said, grunting and finding Kazuaki’s solid, muscular body to be heavier than she anticipated, “but we’re alive.”

  “Hold up,” the captain murmured, sliding his arms from around the shoulders of those who helped him. “Can’t leave good supplies to rust in the woods.” Careful steps back toward the direction they had just left brought hellfire to his heart with each stride, but he’d be damned if he left Olnos’ sword and armor behind.

  Nicholai held out a hand. “Stay there, Kazuaki. You shouldn’t be moving much with those wounds. Gods only know if Elowyn can close them with a regular suture kit.” He cringed at Olnos’ rapidly deteriorating body. “I’ll … I’ll handle this.”

  Nicholai peeled off Olnos’ helmet, trying not to look the dead god in the eyes. It was clear by the former Time Father’s facial expressions that harvesting components from a corpse ranked among his least favorite things, but he was unwilling to allow his injured comrade to gather them for himself.

  “Are you sure you want all of it?” Nicholai asked, propping the helmet under one arm and the sword over his shoulder. “I don’t know how much more I can carry.”

  Observing the subtle uncomfortable inflections in Nicholai’s voice, Kazuaki shook his head. He couldn’t make the man harvest any more than he had; he looked miserable, being so close to a dead body. “Revi. Rabbit. Gather whatever’s left, and let’s return to the ship.”

  “Aye, Captain!” Brack offered a salute before approaching the corpse, completely unaffected as he stripped the gauntlets, bracers, and greaves from the dead god’s hands and feet.

  Returning his focus to Nicholai, Kazuaki took a grueling step forward. He paused as if pondering something.

  Nicholai furrowed a brow. “Are you all right?”

  A tick in his jaw followed the inquiry. Kazuaki swallowed, cringing at the effort it took to lift a hand and lay it on the man’s shoulder. “You effectively delayed Olnos from running me through.”

  Cocking his head, Nicholai chortled. “Yeah, well … one less death to get over would do me just fine.”

  “Hey!” Brack looked up as he slid his hands into the gauntlets, freeing more room to carry extra armor. “I’m the one who shot the bastard in the head.”

  “Yes.” Kazuaki nodded. “You did well too, Rabbit.”

  Nicholai thought he might thank them. Brack knew better. The captain offered microscopic half-smiles to both men. His eye held gratitude, but his tongue said nothing. He turned, carefully maneuvering his beaten body to Bermuda and Rennington.

  Grunting as he lifted the chest plate, Revi stepped forward. “If the others are all right, we can continue toward Vadim after we unload this stuff at the ship.”

  Sliding her arm around Kazuaki’s waist to help support him, Bermuda shook her head. “No need. He was among Havidite’s followers. Elowyn gifted the Chronometer to Kekona. It’s already destroyed. Northwestern is free.”

  “Goody!” Brack hobbled along, simultaneously trying to ho
ld multiple pieces of armor and scratch at his festering poison ivy. “We can get out of this place then.”

  The admission stole the hope from Revi’s face. “I … I thought we’d have more time,” he called out, trying to be authoritative and failing.

  “No need,” Kazuaki replied, pushing forward through his pain. “I know it’s redundant to bypass Northern, but our next stop will be Aggi Normandy. We should meet no resistance there. It will give everyone an opportunity to recover before we move onward to the final piece of this damnable quest.”

  Revi stopped. He watched as the others moved toward the ship. His stomach coiled. What had he expected coming here? The man had spent upward of a year searching under every moss-covered rock, behind every aging tree, over every snow-dusted mountain. Did he really think he’d find Avigail upon re-entering the feral wilderness for the short period he knew they’d be here?

  No. Revi Houton was a realistic man. But he had hoped, and to have that hope dashed in a second was enough to bind his feet to the earth.

  “Hey.”

  The weight of Nicholai’s elbow, as it nudged him in the ribs, was enough to make Revi readjust his gaze. He found the former Time Father’s eyes, his expression reflecting the futility that he felt.

  “When this is over,” Nicholai started, forming an optimistic smile, “I’ll come back here with you. We’ll keep looking. Maybe, if I patch up things with Epifet, she could even … put out a good word, you know? If any good gods remain here, perhaps they would be willing to keep a watchful eye out for her.”

  Revi stared at Nicholai, unblinking. He spied the sincerity in his comrade’s face. He also recognized the remaining fragments of guilt. That Avigail had gone missing under Nicholai’s watch was something the former Time Father could never forget. Luckily, Revi could forgive. “Thanks, Nico.” He nodded, matching the man’s weak smile. “I’ll take all the help I can get.”