Currents of Will: Book Two of The Atlantis Chronicles

by Susan MacIver

  He shuddered as the grisly images poured through his mind’s eye and Ni-Cio slipped toward the dark cover of insanity. Nothing he had ever known had prepared him for the devastation he had survived. Now, dancing seductively before him, blackness beckoned with whispered intimations of a final release. Oblivious to everyone and everything around him, Ni-Cio sank into a somnolent dream state.

  Raising his arms to embrace the endless void, Ni-Cio prepared to surrender his burden. Twitching at an unexpected touch, he felt steady hands gently take hold of his shoulders. By degrees, Ni-Cio felt himself being pulled back from the yawning abyss. He blinked to clear his vision and turned around. He recognized the intruder. Dully, he acknowledged the topsider. It occurred to him that he should be surprised to see Evan in this place. But he was not. A moment passed.

  “You are needed elsewhere . . .” Compassion felt rather than heard.

  A halting sigh laced with fathomless sorrow. “I cannot . . .”

  “The choice is not yours . . .” An implacable statement.

  That inescapable truth produced the ghost of a smile. “So, you are prepared to stay until I accompany you?”

  The image of an immovable force spoke volumes and Ni-Cio stifled a gruff laugh. “I truly do not want you around that much . . .”

  The quiet lengthened. Finally, Ni-Cio took a deep breath. “Thank you . . .”

  A slight lift of the topsider’s broad shoulders was the only reply, and it was done.

  Even though it seemed as if no time had passed, everyone was aware that something highly unusual had just taken place, and they were relieved when the conversation picked up where it had suddenly left off.

  In an unwavering voice Ni-Cio addressed Evan’s earlier statement. “The bodies. Yes. Once you have determined that it is safe to return, we will see to your request.”

  With a curt nod of his head, Evan let the subject drop and the small group turned to other matters.

  Kyla watched Evan cajole the old truck around the worst of the potholes as they bounced over the rough gravel road that wound through the countryside. With the shock absorbers no longer in existence, the antiquated vehicle bucked its way toward town like a sway-backed mule. Although a shimmer of anticipation had run through Kyla when she had learned she was to accompany the handsome topsider, she could hardly keep from laughing as Evan fought the ornery gears and muscled the steering wheel through the winding curves.

  She studied the lines of his determined features and the shock of their first encounter played through her memory.

  The topsider had resembled Travlor so closely, that to her untrained eyes, the two had seemed one and the same. Poised to attack, it had taken all of Daria’s assurance to convince Kyla that Evan was not Travlor.

  Over a lunch that now seemed so long ago, Kyla had listened as Daria and Evan reached an understanding of each other as friends rather than lovers. Irresistibly drawn to the mysterious man, Kyla could feel her guard dropping, and the fears and misconceptions she had entertained regarding the Terran world crumbled. Through her quivering new awareness, she came to the realization that Evan Gaddes was one of the loneliest people she had ever met. She remembered impulsively taking his hands in a gesture of comfort, but both she and the topsider had felt a sudden shift in their perceptions as skin touched skin. She had wanted to stay with him; however, their undeniable infatuation had been put on hold when events thrust them onto opposing sides of a horrific war.

  Now, sitting beside him, Kyla was overcome with awe. Denying his father, this man had risked everything to help her people. That any of them had survived was due in large part to his heroic efforts. An unforeseen desire to protect him from further hurt flooded her heart with such intensity that her breath caught in her throat.

  Evan must have sensed the sudden change, but he mistook Kyla’s reaction as one of fear. Though he powered the truck through the tractor-sized ruts, his voice flowed over her like warm silk. “Don’t be afraid; I have you masked. No one will see you.”

  “It is not that.” Her voice quavered. She swallowed hard and blinked her eyes in an effort to regain control of her reeling thoughts.

  Evan glanced at her and time stopped. He looked entranced and Kyla could feel warmth rising from her collarbone. Faint tendrils of rose coloring wound over her mouth and traced the outer corners of her eyes. She couldn’t hide her emotions. Her feelings were laid open before him.

  Evan brought the old truck to a miraculously quiet stop and opened his door. Kyla watched him slide from behind the wheel and step down to red earth. He rounded the cab and slowly opened her door. The suppressed emotion of an entire lifetime smoldered behind gray eyes burning silver. The raw need of his desire ignited a response within Kyla that could no longer be denied. Their bodies collided in a crushing consummation of unspoken passion. Mouths explored each other ravenously.

  He lifted her out of the truck and carried her across the empty, windswept field. The tumultuous sounds of breaking surf created a symphony with the crashing thunder of her heart as he settled her tenderly on a cushion of wild grass. The feel of Evan’s mouth on hers erased every sound on earth but the breath they shared as one.

  Strolling in a lover’s embrace, Evan and Kyla threaded their way through Fira’s crowded square. Masked to resemble tourists, they listened intently for any hint of innuendo, rumor, or gossip. The freighter, since it had not been hidden, should have piqued someone’s curiosity. And if anybody had noticed the direction of its departure, it would help narrow the scope of their search. They desperately needed some idea of the course heading.

  They waded through boisterous throngs of locals displaying their colorful wares and meticulously scanned the busy thoroughfare. They were about to pass an outdoor café when Evan noticed a beefy man seated nonchalantly under the cool shade of an open umbrella. He pulled Kyla around so that she partially blocked his frame, his eyes fastened on the unsuspecting patron. “Love, do not look around, but I recognize the man in that café.”

  Tremors raced through his body, and to Kyla, he felt like a wild stallion on the verge of a murderous stampede. Though she spoke to him in gentle tones, it took him awhile to concentrate on her words. He realized that she was attempting to reign in his flaring temper.

  “Evan, I am with you. We will do this together.” She willed him to look at her.

  He wrenched his gaze from the man to meet hers. She lovingly kissed his mouth, letting her lips trail over his closed lids, and she pulled him closer. With her cheek resting against his, she held him until the trembling in his muscles began to subside. Her voice was like a cooling breeze on a hot day. “When you are ready, we will do this together.”

  She waited a beat, then Evan heard the delicate release of her sorrowful sigh. “I know he is the soldier Travlor sent to execute you.”

  Astounded, he raised his head to look at her. “How did you know?”

  “Oh, Evan, in my eyes you are such an open book. I have loved you from our very first meeting and when our bodies finally joined, your heart and mind were known to me.”

  The crowds flowed around them in relaxed eddies and the years of loneliness and the outrage of unspeakable loss dimmed in the light of this new beginning. Unable to voice his feelings, Evan simply nodded. Kyla took his hand and led him into the cool shadows of a nearby veranda. “Come, we will wait. When he leaves, we will see where he takes us.”

  Regardless of Travlor’s ability to block her thoughts, Daria still tried to reach Ni-Cio. At intermittent intervals she released thought-forms into the ozone and even as she waited, without hope of a reply, her heart refused to believe that he was truly gone.

  Before the loathsome Atlantean had burst into her cabin and requested her appearance at breakfast, Daria’s mind had calmed and logic had resumed. As she assessed her situation, a singular deduction had fueled her desire to continue trying to contact Ni-Cio. If Travlor were certain o
f Ni-Cio’s death, he wouldn’t need to block my thoughts!

  Now, after having endured Travlor’s presence throughout what seemed like an endless breakfast, Daria lay resting in her cabin. She wracked her mind for a way to escape, but finally had to admit that she was stuck.

  Without seafaring abilities and a navigational aptitude that precluded the use of anything but a GPS, even if she were to get off the ship, she wouldn’t have the slightest idea where she was or where to go.

  She rolled over and touched the sweating gray wall. “It’s your game until we reach dry land; after that, all bets are off.”

  She traced the outline of a heart and watched as glistening beads of moisture slid like tears from the soft edges of her drawing. The unutterable sorrow of Travlor’s actions once again took hold. Her thoughts were thrust back to the harrowing recollections of death and destruction visited upon her Atlantean family, and she felt she could die from the grief. But as she wound through the scenes of grotesque horror, a shared memory floated to the surface, bringing with it a promise of release.

  From deep within her soul, the haunting refrain of an ethereal melody poured into her aching heart. Rising from her bunk, she crossed the cramped space and stood before the misted porthole. Accompanied by the peaceful swaying of the ship, Daria’s voice found an outlet for her pain as the eerily beautiful Song of Passing wrapped around her in comforting waves.

  The final glimmering intonation had risen through the tepid air when someone pounded frantically on her cabin door. Her heart leapt to her throat and Daria hurried to open the heavy steel door. An anxious seaman stood before her, wringing his cap. “You are to follow me! There has been an accident!”

  He didn’t wait for a response, but turned and sprinted down the corridor. Daria bolted from her room and tried to catch up to the fleeing figure. She couldn’t imagine what had necessitated such panic. She scurried to follow the seaman down an adjacent passageway when the alarming cries of someone in acute pain assaulted her ears.

  She saw a crowd of men held motionless by shock. She pushed her way through the group and burst into a room that she dimly recognized as the ship’s galley. Noticing one of the stoves covered in white powder, she halted in confusion. She didn’t see anyone and she tried to make sense of why she was needed. Suddenly, Travlor rose like the grim reaper from behind the furthest stainless steel table. “Get everyone out and close that door,” he sneered.

  She stumbled to obey the terse command and quickly herded the stragglers out of the room. The steel clang of the door resounded in her ears and her heart raced in fear.

  “Over here—now!” The strong compulsion in Travlor’s voice almost worked. Instead, she braced herself and stepped cautiously around the other tables until she had an unobstructed view of a man splayed face-down on the floor. Wisps of smoke curled into the air. Her mind slowly absorbed the spectacle and she realized with mounting horror that the smoke emanated from the man. Her voice sounded like it was weighted with anchors. “Is he dead?”

  “Unless you prefer to delay until that moment occurs I would surmise … not yet.” The dripping scorn that colored Travlor’s statement galvanized her as his compulsion could not. She moved quickly to kneel by the unmoving figure and helped Travlor roll him over. She gasped. Third degree burns covered the upper half of the man’s body and his melted face was unrecognizable.

  Daria immediately began the unearthly healing tones that would move the man from unconsciousness into a sedated sleep. With Travlor’s remorseless eyes watching her every move, she ran her hands lightly over the worst of the trauma. The atonal sounds she emitted worked in tandem with the broad sweeping motions of her hands. She introduced a strong antibiotic into his system. With unerring precision and the utmost concentration, she focused on the cells of unmarred skin. Her healing tones deepened and lengthened until, reproducing at an unnaturally accelerated pace, the healthy tissue began growing by imperceptible degrees. As it did, the charred skin gradually started to flake away.

  After a time, the young cook’s scorched features were entirely replaced so that he looked much as he had before the terrible grease fire. Daria reinforced a suggestion that he would awake refreshed with no memory of the agony he had suffered.

  Once the skin on the seaman’s torso had been restored, Daria sank against the back of a table leg. Her voice shook and she wasn’t sure if her words reached Travlor’s ears. She was too tired to care. “He is well. But he’ll sleep throughout the day and the rest of the night. Have some of the men take him to his quarters.”

  Travlor squatted next to her. “You have done well, topsider. Better even than I had hoped. This little foray into all things miraculous will do much to help fuel the religious fervor I require.”

  Travlor’s cynical gloating grated on her nerves. Even so, an abrupt cause for distress rose within her. “Is my baby all right?”

  She searched Travlor’s face, afraid to hear his reply. She thought she saw something like concern pass over his features, but it was gone too quickly to be certain. “Not to worry, the health of your baby is irrevocably tied to the state of my own health. Unless you disobey me, nothing I ask of you will endanger her.” He offered his hand and helped her from the floor. She hated that she couldn’t walk without leaning a bit on him as he escorted her across the galley. “I will have my chef bring you a proper meal to help restore your energy.”

  Daria could barely nod her grudging thanks as Travlor reached for the door. When the men realized they were coming out, they made way for what they thought would be a body. However, Travlor stepped through the doorway first and sagged dramatically against the frame. The men immediately crowded around the Atlantean to offer aid, and ignored the young woman who had been summoned.

  Daria wanted to lie down and sleep forever. She started to shuffle back to her cabin when she heard the hard rasp of Travlor’s melodramatic voice. His words caused a tremor to run up her spine.

  “He will live. I have done all that I can.”

  Evan and Kyla observed their target from beneath the dark shadows of the veranda. They watched the bullet-headed mercenary slurp down a third espresso. He finished his morning paper and glanced at his watch, then tilted back in his chair with a self-satisfied air and let out a loud, jaw-cracking yawn. Reptilian eyes flicked lazily over the wandering crowds. At last, he pushed away from the table and rifled heavily through the pockets of his dirty camos. Without bothering to count, he flipped a pile of loose change onto the table, and like an ungainly beast, began pushing his way out of the café.

  The man entered the square and lurched into the wake of a young girl. The smirk on his square face said everything about the sordid fantasies that ran gleefully through his lizard brain. He picked up speed and lumbered after her.

  Evan clenched his hands and his breath accelerated as he and Kyla gave chase. He was about to break into a run, but Kyla restrained him. He inhaled and let his breath out, reaching for some semblance of inner calm, but he was light years from nirvana. “I’d like to hit him with a Taser about now.”

  They sidestepped a family of picture-snapping tourists, then Kyla settled into him. “It would be no more than he deserves; however, there is a certain irony in the fact that his love of wielding a Taser is what unlocked the powers you now possess.”

  She smiled at his smoldering reluctance. He quirked an eyebrow and with a shallow snort, gave a quick nod.

  Done with his leerfest, the mercenary abandoned the object of his perversion and abruptly darted into a narrow alleyway. Evan grabbed Kyla’s hand. “Come on!”

  They rounded a corner to the alley and Kyla heard Evan’s hurried thought.

  “We’re entirely masked now; don’t worry about making noise . . .”

  They trotted up a winding incline. Their target was moving rapidly in and out of the overhanging shadows so Evan and Kyla picked up their speed.

  They had narrowed
the gap when the man stopped to hitch up his pants. He investigated the area quickly before he ducked inside a seedy, run-down motel.

  “Evan, do you think we should go in?”

  Before he could reply, the musclebound figure reappeared with a brown paper sack tucked securely under one arm. With a quick, furtive glance, he decided that he hadn’t elicited any undue attention. Tramping uphill for another block he angled left onto a constricted one-lane road before winding through a twisted maze of centuries-old housing. He stopped before a termite-riddled stairway, checked the surrounding area once more, and then ascended. The dilapidated stairs sagged under his weight and groaned beneath the rhythm of his step.

  The soldier inserted a key and sidled through the door, slamming it shut against the intrusion of any outside light. Waiting for something to indicate that the man was getting settled, Kyla anxiously whispered. “What should we do now?”

  He squeezed her hand. “We do nothing. I’m going to get in that room and find out what he knows.”

  Before Evan started across the cramped street, Kyla nailed him with a look. “You go nowhere without me, Evan Gaddes.”

  “Kyla, this is no time to argue!”

  “So, do not!”

  He was surprised at her vehemence, but he tried one more time. He took her into his arms. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  She shook him off. “Do not try that on me. You know I am a master of Last Strike, I think you do not want me to see what you will do to him.”

  He closed his eyes against the truth of her statement and relented with a heavy sigh. “All right, but at least stay behind me until I know what we’re dealing with.”

  She brusquely nodded her consent and they crossed the street.

  “We’re still hidden, but take the stairs as quickly as possible …”