Currents of Will: Book Two of The Atlantis Chronicles

by Susan MacIver

  Travlor opened his eyes. Turning his head to face Daria, she saw the cruel smile with which she had become so accustomed. “So, you have broken through to your precious Ni-Cio.”

  Fear froze the blood in her veins but her heart pounded like a jackhammer. A stupidly succinct observation occurred to her when she saw the quick jump of her shirt as her heart thudded against her chest. I’ve done it now.

  The man raised himself slowly. Nodding his head in time to something only he could hear, she watched him lean toward her. Even inside the car in a seated position, he towered over her. “That is the last time. Do not expect me to ever, EVER help you again. I will never again use my strength to aid you. I refuse to let you slip through my barriers because of my weakness! I will strangle you with my bare hands before I let that happen again!”

  The wildness in his eyes frightened her more than his words. He looked completely mad. She shrank from him and scooted as far back into the corner as she possibly could. But he barged into the space as though they were connected at the hip.

  His eyes bulged and he looked crazed. He crushed her with his weight as he angled into her. “Never! Do you hear me?”

  Daria could barely nod. Her body quivered like Jello. She tried to shield the baby from her rampant fear, but all she could do was wait and watch. Impaled by his stare, she felt like a bug pinned to a board. The man meant every word. It took all of her will power not to avert her eyes.

  After what seemed like a lifetime, he eased back. Since he didn’t completely move away, she resigned herself to even closer scrutiny. She closed her eyes; whether she wanted to or not, she had to cut the sight of Travlor out of her fevered brain. She couldn’t imagine how the fear that coursed through her body would affect her baby. She tried, without much success, to still her mind.

  The car finally pulled up in front of the estate. The men lifted both of them out of the car and carried them upstairs. Daria was placed on her bed and the men left, closing the door softly.

  She was afraid to stir. She was so frightened she didn’t dare venture outside of her rooms. She roused herself and picked up the house phone and requested food to be brought to her. Her hands shook and she almost hung up; instead, she ordered another tray to be taken to Travlor. She didn’t feel like helping him now—her baser nature wanted him to suffer. However, as the only remaining sovereign healer of Atlantis, and because of the lessons Na-Kai had bequeathed her, she was bound to that calling, no matter what she thought about helping the vile man.

  Shrugging out of her clothes, she made her way into the shower. The hot water created an abundance of steam. Daria took long, slow, even breaths and sent every calming thought she could think of to her child. Finally, she felt the baby move.

  It was all she needed. She was so thankful to feel her daughter’s kick, she sank to the tiles. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she dropped her head onto her knees and let the hot water wash away her fears.

  No matter what happened now, she had heard from Ni-Cio. The only goal she focused on was the goal of keeping herself and her daughter alive and well. She would do as Travlor asked, no matter what. And as much as she hated to, she promised herself that she would never again try to contact Ni-Cio. He would find her.

  Evan jumped out of bed. Morning light streamed into the room and he heard the sounds of Kyla making breakfast. However, all he could think about were Ni-Cio’s thoughts that had just fired through his mind. He ran a hand over his rumpled hair. “How did you find this out?”

  “Somehow Travlor lost his hold and Daria and I were able to touch each other for a few moments …”

  “So, all you know is that they are somewhere in South America?”

  “Yes. She doesn’t know anything other than that … will that be enough to help us find them?”

  Evan threw some clothes on as he considered Ni-Cio’s question. “I’m not sure, but it’s a start. It’s more than we had …”

  “What would you have me do?”

  Evan wasn’t sure. He knew that Travlor was set on world domination, but he wasn’t sure how the man was going to accomplish it. “About the only idea I can come up with is to search the news. Look for any unusual activity, maybe a buildup of an army? Or unusual healings?”

  “All right. I will inform the others. We will continue to clean Atlantis and reform the compound. If we hear anything, we will be in touch . . .”

  “I’ll research from my end. It’s going to take a while to sell off my assets but we’ll move immediately if we hear anything. I’ll let you know . . .”

  Evan went to the kitchen and settled himself at the bar. He took a moment to admire Kyla as she prepared their food. She turned around in dubious expectation. “Ni-Cio and Daria have made contact. Somehow they were able to break through Travlor’s block.”

  Kyla set the pan down and came to the bar. She grabbed both his hands in hers and squeezed. Excitement colored her face in tones of scarlet. “That is wonderful! Do we know where she is being kept?”

  Evan shook his head and wrinkled his forehead. “The only thing she was able to share is that she thinks they’re in South America. Exactly where is the question. Either she doesn’t know or she didn’t have time to tell Ni-Cio. Communication was shut off. I can only guess how that happened.”

  “Well, if anyone can find out, it will be you. What do we do to help ourselves?” Kyla placed his hands back on the counter.

  “Not much. Do you speak Spanish?” Kyla’s nod made Evan smile. “Of course you do. Well if we could locate some South American news channels on TV, you might possibly hear something interesting.”

  “Like what, love?” She turned back to her preparations.

  “I’m not sure. I’m hoping we’ll know it when we hear it. But it could be possible that he is building an army. That might be something to take notice of. We also know that he kidnapped Daria for a reason. Why? She’s a powerful healer, but how would he use that? His tendencies certainly don’t lean toward kindness, but if we hear of any miraculous healings, it would be another avenue to explore.”

  “I will start listening today.” When she heard Evan’s lengthy sigh, she placed a hand on her hip and pointed the spatula at him. “I do not want to hear that discouragement. We have just learned some very important information—we are one step closer than we were yesterday!”

  Despite himself, Evan smiled. She was right. “Woman, get that food ready, I’m starving!”

  Kyla playfully batted at him, then turned back to the stove. “Ah, I miss our kitchens!”

  Ni-Cio flew into the crowd of dancers and they scattered like paper scraps in a strong wind. Aris grasped his friend’s shoulders. “What is wrong with you? Have you lost your thoughts?”

  Ni-Cio grabbed Aris’s shoulders. “I have heard from Daria!”

  Their excitement spread like confetti. Everyone crowded around to hear the news and people grabbed Ni-Cio in rowdy hugs.

  “We will get our healer back!”

  “Daria is to be returned!”

  “We knew you could do it, Ni-Cio!”

  Before the happy throng got too out of hand, Ni-Cio held up his arms for quiet.

  It took a while, but he finally got their full attention. “The wall of communication between Daria and myself was breached, briefly. She believes they are somewhere in South America; however, she does not know her precise location.”

  Questions whipped through the crowd.

  “How can we help?”

  “What must we do to get our healer back?”

  “We are ready now, Ni-Cio.”

  Ni-Cio held his arms up for silence and waited for the rapid-fire questions to cease. “There is not much we can do other than listen for unusual news stories. Until we know the exact whereabouts of Travlor and his soldiers, we must stay vigilant with our news watch and hope that Evan and Kyla hear something that will give us a clue as
to her location.

  “My sister and Evan will stay in America to complete the sale of his businesses, but when they come back to Santorini, we must be ready to move. For that reason, we have to intensify our cleaning efforts. And we must continue to survive topside until our home is once more habitable.”

  The Atlanteans crowded closer, encouraging Ni-Cio, and promising to redouble their efforts. Ni-Cio couldn’t bring himself to suggest that they might be heading into another war, so he kept his thoughts to himself. But he had already decided to put Rogert back in charge of training. The Cabala of Ares was not a discipline he could let lapse. The arcane, secret fighting art had been handed down from Ares, the god of war. The technique, translated loosely as Last Strike, turned anything into a lethal weapon. Last Strike required total concentration, impeccable timing, agility, and unerring precision. He had a strong feeling that that particular discipline would have to be employed again.

  Travlor was extremely weak. The healing had sapped his strength and whatever generosity he had shown her had been snuffed out like a shooting star. He had retreated back into his old, closed off, angry, mad-at-the-world, self. Still, she didn’t want him slipping further into his hate-encrusted shell. The negativity released into his system would only cause his health to deteriorate at a faster rate. Daria racked her brain to think of a way to cajole him away from such an unhealthy state. As she stared out her window, she could see the press of bodies beyond the front gates.

  She backed away from the upsetting view and rubbed her arms, feeling the chill from the refrigerated air. She went to the closet and grabbed a sweater. She was disgusted by Travlor’s unconscionable display of “miracles” that preyed on the intense desire of people to believe in another savior.

  Certainly, Travlor’s plans for spreading religious fervor had exploded like a supernova. Once word of the children’s miraculous healings was leaked, hordes of people, makeshift supplies on their backs, packed the roads in a never-ending train of religious pilgrims. Outside the gates, the masses stood silently, through every kind of weather, hoping to catch a single glimpse of Travlor. Many of them carried photos, yellowed and cracked with age, hoping that the new Messiah would heal their loved ones. Their faith made them patient. Their hope kept them going.

  Rosaries and other religious souvenirs were sold up and down the road to the estate, clogging traffic so that no one could get a vehicle through. To reach the complex, people had to travel on foot over many hot, humid miles. Still the multitudes came.

  However, since the children had left the hospital amid a frenzy of news coverage, Travlor had not left his rooms. Any and all sustenance was brought to him on trays and left outside his door until he was ready to eat.

  Daria carried the trays herself in order to make sure that he was eating enough; he had to be well, because her fate, and the fate of her child, were tied to his. When she returned to collect the hardly touched contents, she heard him on the phone hour after hour, barking orders. Different men, ramrod straight, and clothed in every uniform imaginable, entered the premises at every hour of the day and night. She tried to figure out what he was up to, but she had no idea. Whatever it was, she knew it didn’t bode well.

  She really hadn’t felt like leaving her rooms either, but she didn’t want Travlor starving. Since she had broken through his wall of silence and had heard from Ni-Cio, she desperately needed the tranquility of her own room to help contain her excitement. She needed her solitude to continue helping her baby feel loved, calm, and well.

  After the healing, she had recovered so rapidly that she was amazed at the lack of downtime. However, she was learning to recognize when, during a healing, she approached the edge of her energy drain. With the small boy who had been so close to death, it had taken every bit of her strength, and if Travlor hadn’t supplied the additional help, she wouldn’t have been able to save the child.

  For his unbidden intervention, she was incredibly thankful. It would have been tragic to have saved the others and lost the one. The boy’s parents would never have gotten over it.

  Travlor had not come to her for the healing sessions that he needed so badly. Worried, she decided to approach him.

  Following the woman bearing his tray, guards following her, they wound their way to Travlor’s rooms. Wading through the soldiers that crowded the hall, she knocked at his door. Travlor’s voice barely reached her. “Enter.”

  She opened the door and stepped aside, admitting the woman with his food. Travlor acknowledged her presence, but didn’t say anything.

  He was seated at his desk and the tray was placed before him. The woman quickly removed the covers and exited the room. Travlor pushed the tray away then raised an eyebrow and waited for Daria to speak first.

  “You need to eat that food.” She nodded toward the tray, but he just stared at her. She frowned and crossed to the desk. She propped both hands on his desk and stared at him. “You’re acting like a spoiled child. I’m here for your healing.”

  Surprise flitted across his face. “I did not think you would be willing to offer your services.”

  “I have no wish to see you deteriorate, no matter what you think. I know you are weak. Let’s get you to the bed so I can help.”

  A big sigh scoured the air between them. Daria didn’t respond. She rounded the desk and held her arm for Travlor. There was just a fraction of hesitation before he placed his hand in hers. Rising, he leaned heavily against her. She put an arm around his waist and gasped. He was so frail.

  “I know. I have shocked myself.”

  She helped him into the bedroom and waited as he made himself comfortable. When he signaled that he was ready, he closed his eyes and she began.

  The eerie sounds of her healing tones filled the room and her hands began to work of their own accord. She could feel Travlor’s body accepting and relaxing into the healing touch.

  She worked slowly and thoroughly, without thought for time, for herself, or for her child. She threw every amount of energy she possessed into the healing. And she was gratified to hear Travlor’s labored breathing ease. She worked until she felt the drain pulling her down. At last, she lowered her arms. She was pleased to see that Travlor slept.

  She walked to the desk and sat in his chair. Pulling the tray of food toward her, she devoured the contents, leaving nothing for the Atlantean. It would be a while before he awakened, and the sleep would help him as much as anything. She wondered again how old the man was. It was incredible that no one seemed to know that fact. It had not been in Na-Kai’s memories. She had just told Daria that he was ancient; since that was a relative term, it was anyone’s guess.

  She was grateful to be able to help him. It was small payment for the life of the tiny boy. She ate with gusto, but when she finished, she picked up the phone and ordered more food. She wanted something for Travlor when he woke. She would shovel the food down his throat if he resisted.

  She placed the empty dishes back on the tray and took it to one of the soldiers in the hallway. Closing the door, she took her seat back at the desk. Out of curiosity, she picked up one of the papers that littered the desktop.

  Shuffling through some of the piles, she saw requisition requests, bills, receipts and order forms. She had no idea what any of it was for. It seemed to be mostly military in content, but she wasn’t used to any of the terms. She shook her head. “What are you doing?”

  She heard Travlor’s breathing change and knew that he would soon be awake. She dragged a chair to his bedside. As she seated herself, his eyes opened. Relieved to see that his vision was clear, she scanned his body and found that he was thoroughly rested and refreshed. “How are you feeling?”

  He took a deep, cleansing breath and sat up. “I feel reenergized. You truly are a marvel.”

  “Good, now let’s get you to the desk for some food.”

  He rose without aid and traversed the room, entering the outs
ide office, he seated himself. “I feel younger already. You came at the right time.”

  She had done all she could for him so she took her leave, but not before she scheduled another healing. Even though she didn’t want this man to regain full health, it seemed that she had no choice in the matter. She closed the door gently.

  The soldiers parted to let her pass. She went down to the great room and glanced out the guarded door. More people thronged the gates. It made her nervous to see such crowds. People in the throes of passion could so easily turn into a mob; she wondered if they needed more guards.

  Travlor was pleased with his recovery. Daria’s skills surpassed any other healer in his vast reservoir of memories. He wondered at her bloodlines, that they should be so strong at this time. He knew she was descended from Kai-Dan, but he had never known genes to jump so many generations. “Ah well, it is not for me to ponder the mysteries of science.”

  He ate quickly because there was so much work to accomplish. He had issued new orders to his generals. They were to start building their divisions. He had men at his disposal and command, but for what he planned, he needed an army. The first step, now that word of his healing was spreading throughout South America, was to enlist the religious minded into a new sect. “I must think of a catchy name. One that will draw people in … how does ‘Army of the New Messiah’ sound?” He rocked back and lifted his hands to the back of his head and grinned at the sight of so many people at the gates. “I will work on it.”

  He bent forward and reached for the phone. “The minions at the gate are growing. It is time to build our church.”

  He hung up, grabbed a sandwich, and started gobbling his food. Everything was going nicely, better even, than he had planned.