The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  No. Not a man.

  A god.

  “Itreus is on the ground,” Kazuaki muttered, gesturing to the earth below deck. “If you’re looking for your one-way ticket to the Unnamed’s afterlife, I’d head down there before he’s gone.”

  The stranger’s face split, severed by his extensive grin. “What’s the matter, Captain?” Lowering the lantern so it lit the side of his face, he beamed. “Don’t you recognize me?”

  That voice. It inoculated Kazuaki with an all-encompassing iciness that spread through the whole of his body like a virus. The appearance—it was different. More human. Yes, he had defined facial features now. A body that looked like flesh molded over muscle, and less of a shadowy, amorphous shape. But it was undoubtedly him.

  The glow of the lantern shined bright enough to bring light to Kazuaki’s shock. “Mimir?” His voice hardened, unable to remove his fixated gaze. “Is that you?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Pent up guilt drained out of Nicholai’s body with each step. The comfort of Epifet’s arm through his acted as a physical suction for his lingering remorse. The lightness he felt with each passing moment became a surprising revelation. Whether it was through supernatural means, or simply because he needed to remedy the way things had been left with the goddess, it did not matter.

  It was a wonderful thing to feel like himself again. It had been far too long.

  “I apologize for all the time that has passed since we last spoke,” he said, offering her a repentant smile. “I’m afraid there was some internal struggle regarding… well, everything. Umbriel’s passing was particularly difficult, and …”

  Epifet watched as Nicholai’s words faded. “And, Edvard’s?” she asked knowingly.

  Flicking his gaze toward her, Nicholai held fast to his considering expression. He let out a breath that took the shape of a deprecating laugh. “Yeah. Edvard’s too. I suppose I should start acknowledging that sooner or later.” He stopped in the hallway, knowing the sanctuary of the dining hall waited for them only several feet away. Soon, the scent of Penn’s meal preparations would fill the ship. Appealing to the senses would be a welcome distraction to the oddity of what had just gone down on the airship’s deck.

  The goddess swept her hair over her shoulders, content to loiter where Nicholai stopped. “He wasn’t a terrible person, you know.”

  Nicholai frowned. The expression looked strange on his face and soon shifted into something less abrasive. “I wanted to hate him, Epifet.” He closed his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. “He killed my mother. Betrayed me and my companions years prior. Gave up our location to Nordjan. I can’t forget all of that.” Shaking his head, he opened his eyes. “On the other hand, the man also saved my life at Panagea’s center … and I truly believe he thought he was sparing his wife an even more horrific fate when he poisoned her.” Nicholai sighed, dropping his arm back to his side. “I don’t envy the positions he was put in. I cannot say I understand him … but I cannot say his death hasn’t wounded me in some way either.”

  Epifet nodded. She slid her arm out from Nicholai’s and clasped them in front of herself. “Edvard grappled with his ethics the whole of his life. I understand your confusion, my child. I must say, the primary reason that I think you’re confused about who Edvard Addihein was … is because he didn’t even know, himself.” She looked down, smiling at her hands. “There are always three battles waging within a person." The goddess ticked off her fingers one by one. "Who we think we are ... who we think we should be ... and who we want to be. There are days where one may win an individual battle, but it is hard to know who wins the war.”

  Nicholai shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking forward on his shoes. “Yes, I suppose so.” He exhaled, trying to appear positive. “In any case, I am grateful for all you have done for me. Know that it did not go unnoticed.”

  Drawing her shoulders back, Epifet settled into a contented state. “I am fortunate that all of the decisions I had to make were very clear from the beginning." She tilted her head until she found Nicholai’s focus. “Not everyone is so lucky.”

  The love behind her appearance made it difficult for Nicholai to writhe in regret, but he made an uncomfortable shift. “I wish Edvard would have consulted me,” he admitted, shrugging. “I know he and I didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, but I like to think I might have been able to help him through some of it. At the very least, I could have removed a few of his burdens.”

  “It is too late for Edvard,” Epifet said, her voice soft as she put on an encouraging smile. “But there are others in your social circle who still have some very difficult decisions ahead of them.”

  Nicholai blinked. He stared at Epifet for a moment before he turned to look back at the door leading to the main deck. He knew immediately of whom she spoke. Kazuaki had just watched as nearly all of Panagea’s gods departed. The captain would have probably found a certain joy in that if the news that he and Bermuda were destined to share two different afterlives hadn’t come with it. Though several options for afterlives had come and gone for the once immortal Kazuaki, it seemed he was back where he started: chasing after an eternal paradise that would never be promised to him. He could die now, sure … but at what cost?

  “If you’ll excuse me, Epifet …” Nicholai turned to the goddess with a grateful grin. “I have a favor to return.”

  A look of pride consumed her, and she bowed her head. Strands of perfect hair spilled over her shoulders until she righted her posture again. “Take all the time you need, my child.”

  Straightening his vest, Nicholai turned back down the hall. It would prove difficult to convince Kazuaki Hidataka to abandon his stubborn characteristics and take any help he had to offer, but Nicholai owed him as much. Even if he didn’t … it felt good to crawl out from under the weight of his burdens enough to be able to help someone again.

  Reaching for the handle, Nicholai started to push the door open. His brows pulled together, shadowing his eyes. He stopped immediately.

  Voices. Two of them. He thought Itreus wrapped things up on the airship’s deck. It wasn’t until he peered through the small slit in the door, and spied Kazuaki conversing with a strange man he’d never seen before, that Nicholai wondered whether he should interrupt.

  “Your instincts are correct, Captain.” Mimir spread his arms out at his sides, the lantern dangling back and forth from the movement. “I knew they would be.”

  Scoffing, Kazuaki shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to balance out the agony that endless standing brought. “Bold of you to venture to the land of the gods,” he muttered, nodding toward those below deck with his head. “They won’t think twice to destroy you for your betrayal.”

  Mimir spread the fingers on both hands defensively, the lantern looped around his thumb. “When Itreus summoned us here on the channel, I knew my black mark would pass.” Another trademark grin split his face in half. “They have no reason left to hate me, Captain. They’ve just been gifted entrance into a land where hate and aggression cease to exist.” He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly through his open mouth. “There is no room for animosity in paradise.”

  From the shadows of the corridor, Nicholai narrowed his eyes. Was that who he thought it was? It hardly looked like the monstrous creature that walked through his home in Nenada—he looked much more human now, although a feral nature still clung to him. That personality, though … there was no denying it. Gods alive, he thought to himself, squinting. Mimir.

  The former Time Father’s heart rate increased as he watched the two converse. His hand gripped tighter on the door’s handle. Mimir didn’t possibly think he could claim Kazuaki again, did he? Tearing his gaze away from the lesser god long enough to look at the captain, Nicholai cringed. Kazuaki’s state was precarious. If Mimir had come to make another vie for his existence, he picked an incredibly lucky time to do it. But he held no weaponry. He made no visible threats.

  “Hm.” Mimir p
ranced over to the airship’s rails and peered over the ledge. His lips moved as he counted off inaudibly, his head rocking from side to side. “That’s that!” He flattened his feet back onto the deck. “It looks as if Itreus has taken the last one.” The god’s eyes shined, still an inhuman yellow hue. He turned to Kazuaki. “They are gone.”

  Feeling a spike of indignation, Kazuaki flexed his fingers. They parked at his sides and curled into fists. “If you’re safe from their vengeance in the Unnamed’s afterlife”—he inclined his chin—“why don’t you go with them?”

  A delighted laugh flew from Mimir’s throat as he tossed his head back. “I am already in paradise, Captain!” He pushed the lantern to one side of his face and patted it lovingly. “Never again do I need to worry about things such as fading adoration or lost friends. I own the commander’s soul. The energy of his spirit bends to my whims.” Mimir spun in circles, dancing about the deck. “He will see to it that I am never lonely! That I am sustained for all eternity! He is energy, Captain, and energy cannot be destroyed.” Ceasing his spinning, the god panted, his dark hair matting to the sides of his wild face. “It may be so that I never touch the same strength I once had in my prime, but I will never be completely powerless again. I will never... never be completely alone again.”

  Jernal? Kazuaki arched a brow, scrutinizing the lantern Mimir held in his hand. So … that’s what became of the commander. Kazuaki was no fool; he took him for dead. The man already looked like a corpse in the last several weeks they had shared on the sea with one another. Time floating about in the cockboat Mimir had pilfered from the shoreline seemed endless. The captain never particularly liked Jernal—but something about seeing his soul trapped inside that lantern against his will … it was unsettling. “How lucky for you,” he grumbled, unsure of what else to say.

  A wistful sigh left Mimir’s mouth. He paused, putting a hand on his hip. “It is a shame that your comrade had to go and make you a god,” he said, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “We three could have all been very happy together.”

  “I sincerely doubt that,” Kazuaki growled, growing more consumed by irritation with each passing moment. “You took away a year of my life. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you where you stand.”

  Mimir’s bottom lip jutted out in a mock pout. “You’d have to walk all the way over here, for starters.”

  A muscle twitched beneath Kazuaki’s eye. The weight of his injuries felt oppressive. Mimir’s statement let him know his attempts to disguise his weakness were as pathetic as his throbbing legs. Not wishing to waste any more time, Kazuaki huffed. “Why did you come here, Mimir?”

  The lesser god stretched his arms out and rested them atop his head. He did not seem bothered by the fact that Jernal’s lantern nearly poked him in the eye. “I was invited, of course. All the gods were. Who could pass up an invite to Kazuaki Hidataka’s ship?” Upon the completion of his stretch, he giggled, prancing about once again in spiraling circles. “Can you feel it, Captain? The world seems so much bigger now, doesn’t it? That used to terrify me, once upon a time.”

  “You know damn well what I meant,” Kazuaki snarled, challenging his broken body by taking a defiant step forward. “What do you want?”

  Mimir stopped his charades. He blinked innocently as he gawked at Kazuaki. “Oh. I just came to see if you were going into the afterlife with the others.” He pointed, a grin returning to his face. “I see you’ve opted out. I can’t tell you how happy this makes me. It seems we might still have a chance to enjoy one another’s company after all.” His pupils shrank, and he waved a hand in front of him. “Forever, and ever, and ever. Perhaps—eventually—when you fall from grace, I can convince Jernal to give you some prayers too. For a price, of course.” Mimir snickered, waggling a finger at Kazuaki. “They say you can’t put a price on friendship, but that’s only because they’re not trying hard enough.”

  More signs of hostility bubbled up onto Kazuaki’s face. From where he stood, Nicholai spied every bristling sign in the god’s body language. If he did not intervene, he knew the captain would push himself beyond the limitations of his injuries to strangle Mimir.

  Nicholai couldn’t allow him to risk wounding himself further.

  “All right—” The former Time Father pushed the door open as he stepped onto the floorboards of the main deck. “Go on.” He flicked his hands at Mimir, trying to brush him away. “You’ve said your piece. Off you go.”

  Startling, Mimir jumped at the sudden intervention. It wasn’t until Nicholai drew closer, placing himself between Kazuaki and the lesser god, that Mimir tilted his head. “You look awfully familiar,” he muttered, tapping the side of his cheek.

  “What?” Nicholai’s mouth hung open as he gawked at Mimir. “I certainly should. We’ve met. Several times. Panagea’s center? Malcolm’s greenhouse? My home? We spent a lot of time together in—” Stopping himself, Nicholai shook his head. “You know what? It’s not important. Your exit, however … is very important. So, off you go.”

  Mimir hissed like a cat while Nicholai chased him around the deck. He swatted at the former Time Father’s hands, scowling.

  Seeing he was getting nowhere, Nicholai sighed. “Look, I cannot speak for the man, but I’d venture a guess that Kazuaki has had quite enough uninvited guests for one day. If you truly wish to call yourself a companion, you’d leave him alone.”

  Leaning forward, Mimir sniffed at Nicholai. He stepped toward him and reached out, seizing the man’s arm. Absorbing the memories before Nicholai managed to tug his arm back, Mimir smirked. “Oh, yes. I know now,” he said, pointing. “The Time Father. No. The former Time Father. You’ve had some unfortunate experiences in the last month, haven’t you?” His charm spread into mania, and he ran a tongue over his lips. “I could make them go away, you know. The bad thoughts. The guilt. Care to make a bargain?”

  Frowning, Nicholai instinctively slid a hand over half of his face. “I think I’d rather eat my eye than give it to you. Go on, now.”

  Mimir puckered his lips into a grimace. He lifted the lantern and stared into its blinding light. “Do you see how they speak to me, Commander?” He stroked the lantern with a sigh. “I’m so glad I have you to lean on in these trying times.” Upon the completion of several more long, drawn-out strokes, Mimir turned to Kazuaki with a grin. “Until we meet again, Captain. I look forward to the day.”

  Mimir vanished with the wind.

  Nicholai scrunched up his face. “I can’t believe he didn’t remember me.”

  Rolling his eye, Kazuaki turned for the door. “Count yourself lucky,” he uttered, limping back to the cabins.

  Coming up at the god’s side, Nicholai lifted some of the burdens. He was surprised to feel Kazuaki lean into the support as much as he did; he must have been in more pain than Nicholai thought. Trying to lighten the mood, Nicholai cleared his throat. “Almost makes you want to go into the Unnamed’s afterlife just to avoid the little fella, doesn’t it?”

  Stepping into the shadows of the corridor, Kazuaki scoffed. “The Unnamed can label Its afterlife a paradise all It wants. It doesn’t sound like any paradise of mine.”

  It didn’t take a scholar to know the captain referred to the glaring absence of Bermuda in the Unnamed’s hereafter. With Mimir’s presence likely adding to the already overwhelming pile of things on Kazuaki’s metaphorical plate, Nicholai decided against a prying conversation. There would be time for that later. “You needn’t make any hard decisions today,” he said, helping the god along. “But, please know that you’ll have people here for you when she …”

  Nicholai’s words trailed off when he felt Kazuaki’s muscles turn rigid under his grasp. The man sighed. There was no safe way to approach that subject. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, you helped me a great deal in my darkest hours, Kazuaki.” Nicholai stopped when they reached the entrance to the cabin that the captain shared with Bermuda. Though he struggled to make eye contact with the god, Nicho
lai did not stop trying until he earned it. “I hope you let me return the favor."

  Kazuaki grappled between a heated retort and something else entirely. Nicholai felt surprised when the captain laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “You’re a good man, Nico.”

  The former Time Father offered a weak smile. “And you’re a good god.” His face twisted playfully. “Though, the people in Southern might beg to differ if you continue to ignore them.”

  Withdrawing the hand in a huff, Kazuaki glanced at the door. “I have more pressing matters to deal with.”

  “Yes.” Nicholai crossed his arms. “So did Darjal. Look where that got him.”

  Silence followed. The two men stood in the darkness of the hall.

  When Nicholai realized he wasn’t getting anywhere, he uncrossed his arms and slid them into his pockets. “If you won’t do it for yourself, Kazuaki … at least do it for Bermuda. She’ll rest far more comfortably if she knows that you’ll be taking care of yourself.”

  The god looked like a statue in the flickering shadows of the dimly lit corridor. For a moment, it seemed as if he’d say nothing. Then, lifting a hand to his mouth to help carry his voice, he shouted into the belly of the ship. “Revi! Present yourself, if you please!”

  Nicholai stepped back, watching. Within a small handful of seconds, Revi appeared in the hall before them. Brack and Rennington trailed behind the man, each carrying a shot glass in both hands.

  Revi jutted out his chest. All of his misery hid somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind. His breath smelled of liquor, but his words still came out forceful and purposefully. “Yes, Captain?”