“How truly careless of me not to have had my man sample your selection of wine.”
Evan’s head snapped up, and whether he wanted to or not, he bucked against his bonds. Travlor stepped from the shadows. Evan went still as Travlor glided closer. He felt like a rabbit that waited for the strike of the cobra.
“I suppose one is never too old to learn another lesson. For that unforgettable reminder, I have no one to thank but you.”
Evan had no idea how his father could be alive. Dressed in crisp fatigues, he looked as though he had just come back from his tailor. Evan couldn’t help it, his voice shook, “Hu, how?”
Travlor’s mimic was pitch perfect, “Hu, how, what?”
Evan tried to reconcile himself to the phantom that stood before him. He stared at his father.
Travlor’s top lip lifted but it wasn’t a smile, “Ohhh, let me guess, you were trying to inquire as to the state of my health? Quite right. Naturally, the first question to enter your mind would be ‘How is it possible that you are still here?’”
Evan blinked, feeling as though his lids were filled with ragged shards of glass. His heart ratcheted into fight-or-flight mode and it beat so hard he thought it would burst.
Travlor flowed across the floor and even the ancient floorboards remained silent beneath his tread. He grabbed a chair and settled himself in front of Evan. His manner seemed almost congenial as he leaned in, “You have much to learn regarding the power of the abilities we have inherited. In retrospect, I never expected you to develop yours so quickly, although your progress has been most entertaining. It is a shame to stifle such raw talent. I must even confess to a bit of fatherly pride.”
Evan snorted, “You’ve never been a father.”
Travlor looked nonplussed. He leaned back and lifted his palms, “A vocation to which I have never aspired.”
“Why aren’t you dead?” Evan wanted to smash that smug attitude.
His father stifled a yawn, “An unwelcome event that will occur in due time. But to address your question, one of the many perks of being sired by a god is an innate ability for poison control.”
“You make no sense,” Evan sighed, wondering if he really even cared. He yanked his arms and feet, but the bonds bit into his skin and he gave up.
Travlor cocked his head to one side and examined the fingernails on one hand, “The blood of Poseidon runs in our veins and the blood of a god is imbued with a very special chemical makeup.”
Evan closed his eyes and shook his head. He pursed his lips and looked back at Travlor, “You’re telling me that you are immune to poisons? Then what did I witness, an inspired act?”
The smile that flickered over Travlor’s lips gave his face a debauched twist, “Do not misunderstand. I am not immune. What you witnessed was a true regression into an extreme amount of physical pain. As a matter of fact, you should derive some comfort from the knowledge that you came perilously close to achieving your goal. A larger ingestion of that particular selection of wine and I would not be before you.”
Travlor’s black, amoral stare locked on Evan, “To elucidate my point, I seem to recall a trite topside saying, ‘Blood is thicker than water.’ However, in our case, I would inject the word poison at the end of that phrase. Ignore the pun.
“Questions aside, son, I am poised to hear the explanation for your actions. I feel I am owed,” Travlor fell silent and he crossed his arms.
Evan couldn’t meet his stare. He glanced around the room and focused on the frayed lamp cord. He swallowed hard against the remnants of stomach acid and his fear, “I have found that killing doesn’t come as easily to me as it does to you. There was a time when I thought it wouldn’t bother me, and I was more than willing to follow your ambitions. I was living under the delusion that ruthlessness was the mark of a real man.”
Evan stopped, but Travlor pressed, “And now?”
Evan raised his gaze and looked at his father. He shrugged, “Now? I’ve come to the realization that a real man protects life. It is the lesser man who seeks to destroy life.”
Something that sounded like a chortle spat from Travlor’s mouth. He stood and paced. The floorboards shrieked. “What an epiphany you must have had! I am curious, though. How did you rationalize killing me? I would be fascinated to learn how you reconciled that bit of attempted patricide with your newfound philosophical doctrine.”
Travlor barged into Evan’s space and brought his face to within inches of Evan’s. Evan pulled back. Looking into his father’s eyes, he felt like weeping, “There is no reconciliation. You were the unfortunate lesser of two evils. I can no longer condone the mass killing of innocent people.”
Travlor bared his teeth and uttered a maniacal snarl. He whirled around, and with rabid strength, wrenched his chair overhead and hurled it at Evan.
Evan threw himself to one side, but not before the wooden missile grazed his head. The chair crashed into the wall behind him. Shattered pieces of wood bounced around Evan as he lay on his side, stunned from the blow.
Travlor sprinted to Evan’s side and grabbed his shoulders. He yanked him upright as though he weighed no more than a rag doll. Slamming Evan back into place, Travlor lowered his contorted face to his son’s, showering him with spittle, “You are my first and only prisoner! Enjoy the little time you have left!”
Travlor shoved Evan and stood to go. When he reached the door, he gripped the knob with superhuman strength. His hand almost glowed it turned so white. Battling to suppress his rage, Travlor did not look back, but when he had calmed himself enough to speak, Evan heard his sorrow, “I no longer acknowledge you as my son. Once the meeting has concluded, upon my orders, you will be executed.”
The old door opened with barely a whimper and Travlor slipped from the room. He stepped across the porch and descended the stairs. Evan watched the solitary figure fade to black.
Travlor stood before a substantial wall map. His captains had gathered around while their men sat in the available chairs. He finished marking the forty-nine exits and turned into the room, “I realize the strategic disadvantage of eliminating so many tunnels. But again, I stress the necessity of containing the enemy. I want no one to escape.”
His eyes traveled over the faces of his men and once again he reinforced his orders with an intense compulsion, “When these exits have been blown, the first submarine carrying a skeleton force will begin its enlargement of the remaining tunnel, here.”
His forefinger traced the solid line of tunnel A, so that his soldiers would know where the advance would start. “This sub is important in that it will be used as a decoy. They will defend this position and will believe it to be our only port of entry.”
He switched to another quadrant and indicated tunnel B on the diagram. His finger followed a different line, marked in dashes. It was this innocuous little line that had been absent on the blueprint he had shown to Evan. “It is here that the second driller will be deployed. The transport subs, ferrying the rest of the troops, will follow. Drilling will proceed quickly as there will be less ground to cover. Every submersible will follow the transports into Atlantis. By my calculations, the men will be in position by the time the first tunnel has been breached. Tunnel A provides the semblance of a frontal assault while we gain the advantage by bringing the force of our army through this tunnel in our surprise rear assault. We meet at this juncture.”
Travlor showed his men where the passages joined.
One of the men raised his arm, and Travlor nodded for him to proceed.
“The target doesn’t have knowledge of this rear tunnel?”
Travlor placed his black pen on a nearby table, “As for anyone living in Atlantis, this tunnel does not exist and never has.” He appreciated the sly approval of the mercenaries. Travlor arched a brow and smiled, “Well, with thirty-five years of captivity under my belt, I had to keep busy doing something.”
Smatters of coarse laughter rippled through the room. When the noise settled, Travlor picked up again.
“The entry access that leads to the eight tunnels ringing the Great Hall has been designated C.”
His finger tapped the diagram at that tunnel, “It is tunnel C that will lead us to the initial assault tunnel, here.”
He faced his men, “Gentlemen, take this tunnel and we open access to the inner ring.”
He pointed to one of his captains, “Your men will spread through the inner ring placing a contingent of men at the openings of the other seven tunnels.”
Travlor pointed at another man, “You will lead your men around the outer ring dispersing squads at the openings of the same seven tunnels.”
He took his place in the group, “I remind you, take no prisoners. There are to be no survivors, save one. Make no mistake, this woman must be secured unharmed.”
He circulated copies of Evan’s only picture of Daria. Travlor could see the glitter of blood lust rise in ugly, parasitic eyes, but every man present made it clear they agreed to his terms.
“Fine. We go in two days.”
A cheer sprang from the soldiers and they slapped each other on the back or traded high-fives. Travlor had made certain that they would peak when he was ready to move. The men were eager to flex their well-financed war muscles. He raised his voice over their rowdy exchange, “Sim-drills commence immediately.”
One of his captains handed smaller versions of the topo map to each of the men.
Travlor waited until they were quiet again, “Remember to keep your explosives to the bare minimum! I do not want to risk bringing the mountain down upon our heads. Any questions?”
There were none, so Travlor dismissed all but one. The soldiers filed out of the room and the designee came to the front of the room. Travlor perched on the edge of the table. He examined the man and appreciated the level of fitness his captain had achieved, “You lead your men well.”
“Thank you, sir. I have worked with most of them on other assignments.”
“Good. Then you will know who is best suited for the job I have in mind.”
The mercenary offered no response.
“The man shackled in my cabin is to be executed. He is extremely dangerous. I need someone capable of carrying out my orders, yet someone who will not be missed in the sim-drills.”
“I would use O’Donnell again, sir.”
“Fine. He has five minutes to meet me outside my son’s cabin.”
“Sir!”
The man exited the room to find O’Donnell while Travlor gathered up the rest of his papers. At length he left to meet the guard.
Travlor walked through the deserted grounds and glanced at the full moon. He ducked his head and hunched his shoulders. He felt the tidal pull deep within his body, and it made him want to howl like a madman. His thoughts started to spin. He refused to think about his only son in any terms other than the betrayer that he was, “No, not son! Deceiver, liar, traitor! Just like your mother!”
Travlor could go no farther. He bent over like an old man and a shudder rocked his body. His temples pounded. He rubbed his forehead to try to blot out his thoughts, “I should be the one to kill you! Yet, I cannot pull the trigger.”
The pressure in his head built until he looked skyward. He raised a shaking fist at the impervious yellow watcher, “I will give you something to howl about!”
Whether his threat was aimed at the moon, or whether he referred to Evan, even he could not say. He forced himself across the courtyard toward Evan’s cabin.
O’Donnell waited on the porch and Travlor could see that he was fully armed. Travlor did not take the stairs, instead, he waited until the bulky mercenary stood before him, “I assume your captain has filled you in on the detail.”
The man shifted, “Yes, sir!”
“Very well. Not until I am out of the compound and aboard that freighter are you to carry out your orders.”
“Understood, sir!”
Travlor’s thoughts boiled. He rubbed his temples until his skin felt bruised. He finally stopped and glimpsed up. He caught the sly look of depravity that winked over the face of his hired killer. Unable to control his thoughts any longer, Travlor turned and fled the compound.
“My endeavor has failed…there is nothing I can do…”
The disappointment Ni-Cio felt pierced his heart. He had held to a secret hope that somehow Evan would be able to thwart the invasion, “Are you well?”
“Travlor has…detained me…but I am well enough…”
Before Ni-Cio could offer aid he heard Evan.
“Do not come after me…it’s too dangerous and you are needed in Atlantis…”
“I cannot leave you there…”
“Ni-Cio, Travlor is capable of anything, including changing the day of the attack…if I am here, I still have a chance…stay where you are…once the men have left the compound, I’ll find a way to get…”
The thought was never completed.
“Evan? Evan!” Their contact had been severed. Ni-Cio bolted down the corridor, “I have lost contact with Evan!” His thoughts poured into his friends as they prepared for their final strategy meeting.
Aris answered for the group, “He warned us that that might happen…”
Ni-Cio rounded a corner and the door dematerialized. He barged into the meeting, “We have to help him!”
No one moved but Aris, “Ni-Cio, it was a chance he was willing to take. We cannot risk anyone in a rescue effort. Travlor’s men outnumber us as it is.”
Marik stood, “Sit, Ni-Cio. This is our last session. It is time to finalize the strategy and take our posts.” He pulled out a chair and offered it to Ni-Cio. “We cannot help your friend, nor would he want us to.”
Much as he wanted to argue, Ni-Cio knew their logic was sound. Everyone in Atlantis was needed; their time was at hand. With a heavy heart, Ni-Cio sat so that Marik could begin the summary.
The Council Leader pulled a marinus from the pocket of his robe and activated the three-dimensional diagram. An interior map of Atlantis materialized to hover over the table. The exits had been highlighted, and the routes glowed red neon. “Our forty-nine volunteers have done their homework. Once we have concluded the meeting, they will be dispatched in biospheres to their posts. I have asked Peltor to head the group, and he will report directly to me.”
Ni-Cio refused to dwell on the implications of Marik’s statement. He trained his attention on the map.
The Council Hall glowed yellow as Marik continued, “The Council Hall has been completely sealed off. The only access is through the new tunnel that connects to the Great Hall.”
Colors bloomed over the diagram like sea anemones as the marinus responded to Marik’s voice, “Ylno has a trained staff of twenty-five people to assist in the hospital. Kyla heads another twenty-five, who will help with the stored supplies and, if necessary, lend support to Ylno. Children under the age of twenty-five will be kept within the confines of the hospital area.
“Inside the Great Hall, the bulk of our forces will be stationed behind the interior barricades. They will be split into ten squads with a member of the High Council commanding each squad. A select command force will stand at each of the casement openings. They are ordered to fire at will should Travlor’s soldiers break through any of the eight tunnels leading to the inner ring.” Marik sat down and yielded the floor to Ni-Cio.
Standing, he reoriented the map, “This gives us a fighting force of around four hundred men and women. We will not waste manpower defending the route Travlor has selected as his point of entry, here.” The tunnel appeared accentuated in black. “Even though the crystals supplement our arsenal, we cannot hope to overpower his men without the advantage of cover. Instead, we will employ the tactics of guerilla warfare.”
Eight green spokes appeared as the tunnels that radiated from the corridor surrounding the Great Hall were highlighted. “There are eight corridors that grant access to the Great Hall of Poseidon and twenty people will be secreted throughout each of them. They will be stationed at the outermost end of ea
ch portal. Their mission is to slay as many of Travlor’s men as possible before falling back to help defend the Great Hall. It will be in the Great Hall that we concentrate our defense, and it will be there that we stand or fall.”
Ni-Cio indicated the tactical study group, “The six of us, along with Talus and his mate, Riina, will lead the guerilla squads. Marik and the High Council will command the forces in the Great Hall and Daria will be ready with Ylno in the Council Hall. Are there any questions or comments?”
Rogert jerked his chin at Ni-Cio, “Would you have us select our own teams or will you determine the squads?”
Ni-Cio shrugged, “What would make you more comfortable?”
The taciturn man frowned, “It makes no difference.”
Ni-Cio looked for other comments, but no one wanted to offer any. “Very well. I would say choose your own teams, but be ready to take your positions within the next two hours.”
Everyone nodded their understanding. Ni-Cio sat down and the map disappeared.
Marik stood back up and rested his hands on the table. He leaned into the group, “We will need to have the rest of the biospheres brought to the Council Chamber. I do not intend to let Travlor’s men steal or destroy our only mode of transportation. Rogert, if you could see to that?”
“I will see to it as soon as the meeting is adjourned.”
The Council Leader smiled, “Rogert, I would that I had just a jot of your unending supply of calm.”
Laughter eased a bit of the tension.
“If there is nothing else, then I believe this meeting is adjourned.” As chairs scraped, Marik raised his arm, “One last thing.”
Everyone halted. Ni-Cio had never seen their leader look so sad as Marik signed a heartfelt goodbye, “Look to yourselves.”
“This entry will be the last that I am willing or able to make. Let it be known that I am humbled to lead such a courageous people. No matter our hope, I fear that the outcome will not favor us. Should I last this day, I can only pray that I lead my people well. Beyond that, I can see no further. It is now in the hands of the gods. So be it.
Tides of Change Page 25