The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  “Tell me”—Kazuaki gestured toward him—“do you want to sail this bird to Northeastern before you’re three sheets to the wind? Or should I have Granite do it?”

  Soaking in the inquiry, Revi pinched his lips together. He turned, reaching back to grab one of the shots out of Brack’s hand. The man threw it down his throat with a hiss and shattered the small glass. He wiped at the amber trail of liquid spilling down his chin with the back of his sleeve. “I’ll have us there by tomorrow.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “There.” Bermuda gestured toward the open space near Aggi’s estate. The open strip that the Northeastern Time Father had designated for the airship when they dwelled within his property remained untouched.

  Finally, a place to land that promised no difficulty.

  After extending the frame from the vessel’s sides that allowed it the ability to rest on the ground, Granite and Rennington rushed off to further prep the ship.

  Epifet and Nicholai watched as the crew scurried about the deck, fully engaged in the process of giving life to Kazuaki’s orders. An upward wind nearly blew the former Time Father’s hat from his head. He gripped it in time to save it and sent a friendly smile toward the goddess beside him. “Will you be joining us? Mr. Normandy is a very welcoming sort.”

  Managing to maintain her elegance and grace when the airship jostled against the rough ground, Epifet smiled. “I have since learned that it is not wise for a Time Father to be caught in the company of a deity.”

  Right. Edvard. Nicholai’s expression dimmed, but he recovered quickly. “Well”—he raised his voice to compete with the sound of the ramp lowering in the background—“it was good to see you again. I will let you know as soon as we’re done with … everything.” He chuckled, guiding his arm out to symbolize the critical task they found themselves immersed in.

  Epifet adopted an ethereal warmth. “I would like that very much.”

  With one side of his mouth shaping into a grin, Nicholai released his hat and rubbed the back of his neck. “I must admit, I have no idea what I’m going to do with myself after." He looked outward at the Northeastern residents as they all stopped to gawk at the visiting airship. “But I know I wouldn’t shun good company.”

  Without hesitation, the goddess reached forward. She readjusted the collar of his shirt and straightened a dangling button on his vest. “I have no doubt in my mind that you will blaze another path of glory,” she replied, patting his chest and taking a step back to admire him. “As soon as you figure out what it is you wish to do.”

  Feeling her pride flow through him, Nicholai reached out. He gave her hand a platonic squeeze. “Thank you, Epifet. Not just for everything you did for me … but for what you did for Edvard and my mother, as well.”

  The goddess’s face glowed with fulfillment. As she touched his hand, her flawlessly sculpted brows pulled together, creating lines of worry on her face. Her gaze hit the floor, darting back and forth. A gradual look of concern consumed her.

  Cocking his head, Nicholai matched her expression. “Epifet?” He twisted his neck, trying to catch her focus. “What’s the matter?”

  Parting her lips, the goddess appeared for a second as if she might speak—but she clamped her mouth together and shook her head. “I … I don’t know,” she admitted, sweeping strands of hair behind her ear. “It’s as if …” Another pause. Epifet pinched her lips together. “I thought I felt something. A moment of worry. It was gone as quickly as it arrived.”

  “Oh.” Nicholai blinked, scratching the side of his cheek. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  With her face still stricken with concern and confusion, Epifet shook her head. “No. I think it’s fine. It must have something to do with the others leaving.” She pressed her palm into the side of her temple. “I suppose I will need to adjust myself to the continuously fading prayers.”

  A look of pity adhered to Nicholai’s face. It was soon replaced by a confident one. “Well, so long as you’re here, you’ll always have mine.” He held up his hands defensively and flashed a playful smile. “I can’t say that I wish to bear any children though.”

  The Goddess of Fertility abandoned her worries and let out a soft laugh. “Good luck, my child. I await our reunion on bated breath.”

  Nicholai straightened his posture, trying to look the part of a gentleman, while Epifet vanished from sight. Her instincts were likely correct, Nicholai thought, as he turned and headed toward the lowered ramp. If Bermuda had spent a fair share of her time here—slaying gods and goddesses as she did—a large probability existed that Epifet would not be graciously welcomed by the Northeastern people.

  Kazuaki strode across the deck, slower than he would have been on any normal day. His injuries lingered, but the restrictions from his godly wounds were finally heading in a healing direction. His limp remained noticeable, and harder footfalls still reminded him of his disabilities, but at least they were easier to disguise.

  The captain surveyed everything to be sure all was in order. Satisfied, he stopped before Penn and rose his chin. “Staying with the ship?”

  Penn arched a brow, his arms crossed. “Do I have a choice? I’m still a bit traumatized over last time,” he muttered sarcastically.

  “Keep a sharp eye,” Kazuaki replied, ignoring his statement. “You have a clear view of the Normandy homestead from here,” he said, gesturing outward to the Time Father’s dwelling. “With luck, this will go efficiently. You can start prepping the airship for departure as soon as you see the Chronometer is destroyed.”

  Rolling his shoulders while he stretched an arm into a lazy salute, Penn nodded. “Aye aye, Captain.” He dragged himself over to the edge of the railing, resting his arms on the steel bars as he peered over. Penn bent down, his chin atop his hands. He stared toward the Normandy doorway, awaiting Aggi’s presence.

  Turning away, Kazuaki trailed after the others. The sounds of their footsteps as they rattled down the ramp told him they were nearly at the bottom. He caught up with them quickly. The growing number of citizens that gathered at the base of the airship held the others up from moving much farther.

  “The Steel Serpent!”

  “She’s back!”

  “Why were you gone for so long?”

  “Does this mean the gods are back?”

  A series of whispers, both excited and cautious, wrapped around the crew as they stood at the bottom of the ramp.

  Catching a few of the murmurs, Bermuda held up her hands. “Purely a pleasure visit, boys and girls. Don’t worry. No gods or goddesses that I know of around here,” she said, standing beside the God of Salvation.

  Taking her word at face value, relief washed over some of the more concerned faces. “We’re happy to have you back!” they said in various ways, all at the same time. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for Northeastern!”

  “Of course. Yes. Not a problem,” Bermuda replied, holding her hands up as she slowly eased away from the crowd. “If you’ll excuse us, we have a meeting with Mr. Normandy.”

  Bermuda’s statement granted her and the others enough leeway to squeeze their way out of the mob, but as they walked toward the Normandy estate, everyone felt the weight of the citizens’ eyes at their backs. It was enough to make Kazuaki flash Bermuda a smirk.

  “Oh, how the tables have turned,” he murmured, stifling his amusement. “Now you’re the center of attention.”

  Turning to look over her shoulder, Bermuda lifted an arm, issuing a final wave to those who watched her depart with enamored gazes. Breathless from the simple effort, she looked up at Kazuaki with a mischievous grin. “If you need any tips on being an idol,” she said, recalling just how much the god struggled to accept peoples’ admiration back in Southern, “I could whisper one or two to you.”

  Kazuaki chuckled, surprising Bermuda with the sound. He turned his gaze away from her, though his mild grin remained. “I’ll take all the help I can get,” he murmured, shoving his hands into his poc
kets as he fought through the throbbing in his chest. “I suppose I have to learn to get better at it sooner or later if I don’t want to end up a dried old husk.”

  Bermuda’s eyes widened. The confession breathed life into her weakened heart. She stared at him wordlessly, a silent hope plastered to her. Did this mean he would start to put effort into answering the prayers of his venerators? Relief flew out of her lungs in the form of a large exhale, and the quartermaster wore a smile all the way to Aggi's home.

  Drumming his finger along the side of his hip, Rennington stole a glimpse of Revi. The permanent look of isolation on the man’s face was enough to make the Southern soldier frown. “Doing all right, mate?” he asked, fully expecting to be ignored.

  “I didn’t have that much to drink last night,” Revi muttered back, surprising Rennington with his admission.

  “Come off it.” Rennington swatted his arm. “You know damn well that’s not what I meant.”

  The touch appeared to invite anger into the man. A nerve twitched under Revi’s eye. “What do you want me to say, Renn?” His rough voice trailed off as his furrowed brows shadowed his face. “I let her down ...”

  With a nonchalant shrug, the Southern soldier made a face. “You let her down a long time ago. You’d think you’d have enough practice forgiving yourself by now.”

  Revi stopped immediately. “Don’t shove that carefree, shit attitude of yours at me,” he growled, poking Rennington in the chest. “Forgive me for being unable to recover from my daughter’s death as swiftly as you’ve recovered from your brother’s.”

  Unaffected by the violent poking, Rennington produced a smirk. “Ah, Iani.” He laughed, shaking his head as he ran a hand over the top of his hair. “I miss that little bastard. Every day.”

  Finding Rennington’s casual dismissal offensive, Revi hitched a shoulder and scowled. “Perhaps you’ll enlighten me with your secret on how you managed to crawl to the other side of your loss so quickly.”

  Rennington glanced at him. He picked up the cynicism in the statement—but it did nothing to rattle his demeanor. “It’s obvious, mate.” Spreading out his arms, the soldier chuckled. “I know I’m going to see the little shit again.”

  The statement caused Revi to scoff and wrinkle his nose. “Don’t tell me you believe in that afterlife nonsense,” he muttered, returning to the pace he set previously, to catch up with the others. “A dead body rots. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “Come on, sure I believe it.” Rennington looked skyward as he trailed after Revi. “You heard the gods. Mankind made their own afterlife a long time ago. If that’s where everyone’s going then, hey …”

  Growing more maddened by Rennington’s indifference, Revi frowned. “I have little faith in anything that humanity invented.”

  A snort from Rennington drew Revi’s attention. “You’re joking, right?” The Southern soldier’s brows sprung up. “Tight corsets? The thunder of gunpowder? The thrill of camaraderie? Booze?” A spirited punch landed on Revi’s arm, and Rennington shook his head. “Plenty of good things were invented by mankind, mate. I wouldn’t be so quick to write them off. They’re shit at times, sure, but don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater just so you can maintain that wounded loner image you’ve been honing since we met.”

  Having eavesdropped on their conversation, Brack spun on his heels to interject. “Oi, you heard that Itreus fellow, yeah?” With his arms at his sides, the man sported a broad grin. “He said it himself, she’s waiting for you in the beyond.”

  Running his tongue over his teeth in frustration, Revi smacked his lips. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “Well, it’ll be a bit late for ‘I-told-you-so’s’ if you’re a corpse, mate.” Brack winked and turned back around, returning his focus to the task at hand.

  Trailing in silence for several paces, Revi marinated in his companions’ words. He knew their stupidity only stemmed from genuine care. It made it that much harder to fault them for it. Sucking a calming breath in through his nostrils, Revi let it out slowly and turned to Rennington. He spied the strange smile the soldier wore on his face while he walked. It was enough to make the Houton man straighten his hunched posture. “You really think you’ll see Iani again?” he asked, tempering the sharp edge of his voice.

  “Think?” Rennington shot a glance toward him. The smirk he wore showed confidence. “Nah, mate. I know it.”

  Having made it to the grand doorway leading to Aggi’s homestead, the crew paused outside. Several footmen flanked the entrance, content in their positions to stand watch. They cast their gazes toward the eight bodies who approached, their instincts assessing them before even a single word was shared.

  Nicholai stepped forward. He felt certain he would have to utilize his diplomatic charm to get one of the footmen to fetch Aggi Normandy without a formal appointment. Much to his surprise, the door opened, and light from outside poured in. It illuminated the familiar face of the Northeastern division leader, clad in his induction regalia.

  “Mr. Normandy.” Nicholai grinned, stepping back to allow the man some room. “I can’t say I’ve seen that outfit since my own induction,” he said, gesturing toward the golden, offset broach that kept the draping red cloak pinned to one side of the shoulder.

  Aggi welcomed Nicholai with a warm smile. “I never cared for it,” he admitted, readjusting the long, ornate headpiece that nestled in his hair. “It was always a bit ridiculous if you ask me, but I thought I might wear it one last time.”

  The way he said it, Nicholai managed a knowing expression. “It seems as if you were expecting us.”

  Descending the steps that led to his door, Aggi met Nicholai and the crew at the bottom. “I was.” He righted his stance and placed a fist over his chest. “News of the other divisions’ states has spread fast. I surmised that my time was ending—no pun intended, of course.” The man smirked, and his gaze darted across Nicholai’s face. “I’ve already started preparing the people for my retirement.”

  Relief flooded into Nicholai’s bones, and he let out a long-held breath. “I can’t thank you enough for making this easier than the last several divisions have been.”

  “Yes, well …” Aggi’s pleasant expression dimmed when he pulled the Chronometer out from its hiding place beneath his cloak. He stared at it lovingly before returning his awareness to Nicholai. “I can’t say that I am overjoyed. The Northeastern division flows through my veins.” He spun, taking in the sight of the grand building he called home for decades. “It would be a lie to say I’m not going to miss it.”

  Sensing the sadness that hid behind the Time Father’s willingness to hand the Chronometer over, Nicholai managed a smile. “Do you know what you’re going to do after your retirement?” he asked, forcing a short laugh. “I could use some advice.”

  Aggi matched Nicholai’s chuckle and shook his head. “I have no idea,” he confessed, glossing over any sorrow with a layer of sureness. “Fortunately, with all of the shifts Panagea is undergoing, I have no fears for my future. There will be plenty of opportunities for me to inject my political wisdom somewhere or another.” Glancing back and forth between the faces before him, Aggi’s smile faded when he stopped on Bermuda. “The Steel Serpent ..."

  The quartermaster scoffed, a quiet grin on her face. “You really don’t need to call me that.”

  Closing the distance between them, Aggi reached his hand out to shake. “I hope there are no hard feelings,” he said, trying to exonerate himself with an optimistic expression, “for everything that happened …”

  Bermuda pinched her lips together. She reached out and shook Aggi’s hand. “You did what you thought was right for your division.” Her gaze drifted over to Kazuaki, and her tone shifted to one of clemency. “Leaders have to make hard decisions sometimes.”

  “At least you found what you were fighting for.” He smiled at Kazuaki. Releasing her hand, the Time Father placed his fist on his hip and slowly arched a brow. “I trust you’ve bee
n enjoying my phonograph?”

  A crimson streak of nervousness flashed across the woman’s pale skin. She opened her mouth to speak, but found no appropriate recourse.

  Aggi relieved her of any nervousness by holding up his hands and chuckling. “It’s fine. Consider it a token of my gratitude for all that you’ve done here. The people really do thank you for all the hard work you and the others put into keeping the gods at bay. Though, I cannot say that I approved of your methods …” His amusement softened when he studied the finer signs of her illness. The influence of the stimulants lived in every dark circle and every unhealed, visible bruise. He was glad she had taken the phonograph, he thought, as he tried to tear his eyes away from her vulnerable frame. Best that she enjoyed it while she was still able to.

  Glancing back and forth between Aggi and the crew, Nicholai stepped forward and gestured an arm outward. “I hate to rush you, but … I'd love to get this over with.”

  Nodding, Aggi exhaled, matching Nicholai’s step to come up before him. “Perhaps it is best not to beat around the bush.” He hung his head, seizing the chain of the Chronometer that dangled around his neck. Slowly, he lifted the device over his skull. He gave it one last look of adoration before holding it out toward Nicholai. “Here you are, Mr. Addihein. To the new and free world.”

  Nicholai smiled. “To the new and free world.” He reached out to take the Chronometer.

  His hand drew away sharply when a shot rang out of nowhere and pinged off his metal arm.

  The sound invoked startled gasps from the citizens of Northeastern. Each turned their gazes, watching as the Chronometer fell to the ground at Nicholai’s feet.

  The former-Time Father flexed his steel digits to be sure they still worked. He sent a narrowed look out toward the source of the gunfire. Smoke wafted around the barrel of a gun. It appeared to be held by a Northeastern citizen. The attire screamed ‘resident’, but the look of jagged animosity on the man’s face said otherwise.

  One by one, others clad in local attire stepped forward. Long jackets, vests, and cloaks were pulled back, revealing the weapons that hid beneath the clothing. They had blended in so well, sacrificing armor for the element of surprise. It did not seem as if their lack of plated defense would be a downfall to them. Nicholai spun in a complete circle, taking in the sight of them all. Their numbers were far greater than the small crew they surrounded.