Currents of Will: Book Two of The Atlantis Chronicles

by Susan MacIver

  Daria fainted.

  Her head felt like it had been used for a drum. Daria surfaced slowly. When she opened her eyes, she realized that her guards had carried her to Travlor’s rooms. Laid out on his bed, she held back a sob as the hot sting of tears pricked her eyelids. She coughed to dislodge the lump that had risen in her throat and swallowed hard to keep from crying.

  “Ah, you’re awake.” Travlor came to the bed and took her hand, a look of true concern on his face. “I have scanned you and you seem all right. How are you feeling?”

  She tried to sit up, but he gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “No, you need to rest. I can find no reason that you should have fainted, but I’m not ready to release you under your own recognizance.”

  She tried to talk, but her voice came out as a croak. “Wa—” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Water, please.”

  Travlor motioned to his major-domo. The man, standing ready, filled a glass with iced water and added a slice of lemon, then brought it to Daria. She accepted it gratefully and Travlor helped her sit up. She drank half the glass then set it down on the bedside table. “I’m okay. I don’t know what happened.” She glanced at Travlor. “Maybe I ate too much.”

  The man actually chuckled. “I doubt that’s the cause. Rest yourself; I have work to do. When you’re ready, I’ll have the men carry you back to your room.”

  “I’m ready.”

  Travlor’s features settled into a look that brooked no argument. Daria didn’t know what to do, so with a shrug, she gave up and slid back onto the pillows. Travlor patted her hand like she was a good little girl and then went back to the outer office and his desk.

  It was at that moment that a clamor erupted outside Travlor’s door. Shouted orders and the sounds of rapid footsteps could be heard retreating down the hall. It seemed that some of the men were vacating their posts. Daria pushed up and glanced anxiously at the door. Travlor rose from his desk extremely perturbed and perplexed, and rushed to help Daria as she strained to stand.

  He searched her eyes with animal ferocity and the snarl of his voice almost made her heart stop. “You know what’s happening.” He grabbed her wrist and yanked her into the office. “Tell me!”

  Daria refused to shrink away anymore and a triumphant smile spread across her face. She started to retort when the door crashed inward. Ni-Cio, with Evan on his heels, burst into the room. Daria fought to free herself, but Travlor easily dragged her behind his back. Eyes blazing like an inferno, Travlor started to address Ni-Cio until his gaze took in his son. Confused, he stammered, “Evan? I—I thought you … were dead.” Travlor glanced around the room, dazed, then back at his son. “How did you find us?”

  Unable to hide his disdain any longer, Evan slowly looked his father up and down. “We followed the madness. It wasn’t difficult.”

  Travlor blinked hard and shook his head but his mind had stalled. The only audible sound inside the room was the gentle rake of palm fronds against the windows. No one moved. Without warning, the frozen tableau was shattered when the report of rapid-fire gunshots brought with it the sounds of agonized, guttural screams.

  Evan and Ni-Cio simultaneously broke and ran to the door, ramming it shut. Engaging the lock, Ni-Cio yelled, “Barricade it!”

  While the men piled as much furniture as they could in front of the door, Daria tried to break free of Travlor’s hold, but it was useless. It was like her entire arm was frozen in cement.

  Turning back into the room, Evan took one look at the shocked face of Travlor’s assistant and sent a compulsion, “To the bedroom, now! Lie face-down on the bed and don’t move!”

  The angry shouts of Travlor’s elite soldier’s echoed through the hallway. Hammering against the door, they battered the wood, screaming orders as they tried to gain entrance.

  Ni-Cio dropped the chair he had been carrying and raced to Daria’s side. Wresting her from Travlor’s grip, he grabbed her to his chest shouting over the din. “Are you and the baby all right?”

  Daria clung to him with all her might, but fear galvanized her to action; she dropped her arms and sent a desperate thought to her beloved, “We are well, Ni-Cio! But Travlor’s men are heavily armed!”

  Ni-Cio left her side and went to the huge desk. He quickly flipped it on its side and signaled Daria, “Get behind this!” When she came around, Ni-Cio lowered her to the floor, then he joined Evan.

  Evan ran to Travlor’s side and screamed into his father’s slack features, “Tell your men to stand down!”

  Travlor raised a trembling hand to Evan’s face, wonder filling his eyes. His broken whisper could be heard even above the sounds of gunfire. “You look so much like your mother.” Travlor looked around as though he couldn’t remember where he was.

  Wood began to splinter as Travlor’s men wielded a battering ram against the office door. Gunfire rang throughout the house and men everywhere shouted for reinforcements.

  Evan seized his father by the shoulders and shook hard in an effort to rouse the man. Still dazed, Travlor didn’t respond. He continued to peer at Evan in loving wonder. Evan sent a compulsion for the soldiers to stand down, but they didn’t comply. The door shook harder and started to give. Wildly searching for his friend, Evan yelled, “Ni-Cio! I can’t compel them!”

  Evan shook his father, shouting, “Travlor! I can’t compel them! What have you done?”

  Travlor blinked to clear his vision, but continued to stare as he haltingly explained, “My son, they are my elite guard and cannot be compelled. Not even by you.” He touched Evan’s face again and in a voice filled with awe, admitted, “A failsafe for me should I be located. Which you have done.”

  Outside, a sharp command issued a warning. “Stand back! We’re blowing the door!”

  Evan grabbed his father while Ni-Cio ran back to the overturned desk. Picking Daria off the floor and shielding her with his body, he shouted at Evan, “Bathroom, now!”

  Evan pushed Travlor ahead of him and followed Ni-Cio and Daria into the bedroom. They scrambled into the bathroom as the explosives detonated. The concussive force blasted inward and nearly blew the bathroom door off its hinges. Evan was thrown against his father and they stumbled into the vanity. He checked Travlor, then yanked himself upright. Ni-Cio shielded Daria and Evan stepped in front of Travlor as they waited for the soldiers to clear the bedroom door. Evan and Ni-Cio pulled their crystals from their pockets and steadied their aim.

  Heavy boots pounded the floor and men boiled into the front office, guns blazing. Travlor stood up and roared an order underscored with a strong compulsion. “Cease fire!”

  Wielding his crystal, Evan thrust himself toward the sagging bathroom door and would have made it through, but somebody grabbed him from behind. Travlor blew past his son and burst out of the bedroom into his office. He slipped on a spray of shattered glass and started to fall. Grabbing at an overturned chair in an effort to steady himself, he watched in horror as his men mistakenly opened fire. Bullets ripped into his body.

  The soldiers immediately ceased firing and stared in horror as their Messiah sank to the floor, blood pouring from his body. The compulsion with which Travlor had surrounded his men disappeared and he uttered his last command. “Do not fire. Leave us … alone …”

  Evan raced into the office. Seeing his father lying in a pool of blood, he sank to his side and grabbed his hand. “Travlor!” Looking for help, Evan screamed a fierce compulsion at the staring elite, “Leave at once!” Travlor’s men scrambled out of the bullet-riddled room as Ni-Cio led Daria out of the bedroom. They stood over Evan.

  Evan’s attention was riveted on his father. He shook his shoulders and tried a command, “Travlor!” His father didn’t stir. He shouted louder, “Travlor!”

  From a great distance, Travlor heard his son’s voice. His eyes fluttered open but he couldn’t seem to focus. He ordered his fingers to squeeze the han
d that held his, yet they refused to move. He opened his mouth to talk and coughed up blood. His chest gurgled as he fought for his next breath.

  Travlor tried to talk. He had to tell his son … something. Evan leaned over bringing his ear next to his father’s lips. Travlor forced the words from his throat. “You … are the man … I should have been.”

  His father’s eyes rolled back into his head. Evan didn’t know what to do until he noticed Daria. He begged, “Do something!”

  Ni-Cio helped Daria to Evan’s side. She began the healing tones, but as her hands passed over Travlor, her stomach seized in a massive contraction. Unable to stop herself, she pitched forward, falling on the Atlantean. Racked with pain, Daria clutched her stomach and screamed, “Ni-Cio, the baby is coming!”

  Ni-Cio tried to lift her off Travlor’s body, but her agonized shriek stopped him. Looking helplessly at Evan, Ni-Cio’s coloring reflected his abject horror.

  Evan pulled Daria from Travlor’s inert body. Without thinking, he gently placed her next to his father, then knelt between them and took both their hands in his. He sent a compulsion and from the deepest recesses of his mind the healing tones surfaced.

  Evan closed his eyes and opened his mouth, the notes poured forth. Daria’s pain immediately ceased. She heaved a sigh of relief and closed her eyes. No longer moving, it was as though she was sealed in a type of stasis, her breathing slowed so that Ni-Cio couldn’t even see the rise of her chest. He threw himself at Evan, “No! You are killing her!”

  The topsider opened his eyes, issuing a dire order, “Do not break my hold! You must let me try …”

  Shaking with fear, Ni-Cio did as his friend commanded and settled next to Daria. He carefully lifted her head into his lap and stroked her long strands of hair.

  Evan had seen the terror in Ni-Cio’s eyes, but there was nothing he could do. If he stopped now, Daria, the baby, and Travlor would die. He closed his eyes, lowered his head, and let the healing tones take over.

  Evan scanned Daria and the baby. He had induced a very deep state of sleep and as far as he could tell, they were both fine.

  Then he scanned Travlor. His father’s heartbeat was thready indicating shock. The tenuous hold Travlor maintained on life was quickly leaching away. Evan sharpened his concentration and with single-minded intensity, deepened the healing tones. Tuning his mind to Travlor’s, he sank into his father’s thoughts in order to sense any change. Travlor’s mind opened to Evan and it was as though he became Travlor. He felt his father’s heartbeat elevate a millimeter and witnessed the beat incrementally strengthen.

  Evan gripped Daria’s and his father’s hands with savage tenacity as the healing tones gathered strength and force. At last, his father slipped toward the same stasis in which Daria had been placed. Evan as Travlor, approached the edge of darkness, but as he slipped toward death, Travlor roused himself to touch his son’s thoughts one last time.

  “Must take us … back … to … Atlantis …”

  Holding Daria and his father in a state of suspended animation, Evan knew that it was safe to stop the atonal notes. As he loosened his control, he delivered a fervid thought to his frightened friend. “Ni-Cio, I cannot let go or we will lose them both … get us back to Atlantis!”

  Ni-Cio gently pried himself from beneath Daria then bolted for the door. Rushing into the hallway, he ran into Travlor’s elite and skidded to a stop, expecting bullets to fly. They all heard Evan’s shouted command. “You have mortally wounded your Savior! Tell your men to stand down! We have to get him to a hospital, now!”

  The guards rushed back into the room, one of them running to Evan’s side. “We will take care of everything.” The soldier grabbed his walkie-talkie and barked orders. The rest of the men raced from the room to see that his commands were executed without hesitation.

  The mercenary, eyes pinned on his Messiah, edged closer to Evan and cleared his throat. Fear and awe filled his voice. “Will our Messiah live?”

  Evan hesitated, “We will do everything we can. We need a chopper, now.”

  The captain grabbed his cell and stabbed a button. “Send a chopper to the front entrance of the house, immediately.” He pocketed the phone, still unable to take his eyes off Travlor.

  Evan jerked his head, “Ni-Cio, get the rest of our men and meet us at the front entrance.” When Ni-Cio looked at Daria and hesitated, Evan yelled, “Hurry!”

  Ni-Cio sprinted from the room issuing orders to his men, “Aris! Rogert! Get everybody to the front lawn, now!”

  Evan’s gaze locked on the captain, “Make sure that all your men know to stand down. And get another chopper for the rest of our crew!” The man sprang to life and ran from the room, phone in hand.

  Alone, Evan stared at his two—three—patients. He had no idea how or why the healing rites had come to him. His mind rocked with the sudden turn of events, but his thoughts were captured by his father. Puzzled, he saw Travlor’s rapid eye movements behind closed lids. Was his father dreaming? Evan let his mind sink, once again, into Travlor’s. His thoughts became Travlor’s and it was then that Evan realized that his father wasn’t dreaming. He was reliving his life. The moment unfolded in real-time and faint echoes wound through Evan’s mind as though someone was calling him from a great distance. Losing any sense of his own identity, Evan as Travlor, turned toward the source of the sound and listened intently.

  Someone drew closer. Travlor recognized the lyrical, loving tones and he grinned. He knew the woman well.

  Evan started and let his thoughts diverge. Confused, he tried to make sense of what was happening and saw his father’s body twitch. Evan realized that his father was responding to the woman. He let himself submerge, once again, into Travlor’s memories.

  The woman finally walked into view and Travlor’s heart skipped several beats. The overpowering security of his mother’s loving presence always brought him immense joy.

  Travlor stood, appreciating the strength, power, and grace that flooded his youthful body. On the verge of becoming a man, he still felt childishly happy at the sight of his beautiful mother.

  A rapturous smile lifted the corners of her mouth belying her exasperated sigh. With one hand on her hip, the other swiping at errant strands of hair, her voice washed over him with love, “Atlas! I have been looking all over for you! Do you forget yourself? Poseidon … your father awaits your presence!”

  Travlor was deep into his vision. His mother was as beautiful as he remembered. He didn’t quite know how he had gotten here but it was incredible to feel young again and have his whole life stretching before him.

  He studied his mother, both hands on her hips. The sun created a corona around her figure and to his young mind, she seemed like a goddess from Mt. Olympus. But he loved the fact that she was human. One glimpse at her blonde hair, fair skin and voluptuous figure and Travlor could see why his father, Poseidon, had taken her to wife. Clieto was the dream by which every man judged beauty.

  “Atlas! Are you daydreaming again? Poseidon is waiting for you! Run and rinse your face and hands. Your father needs to speak with you.”

  Travlor shook himself from his reverie, taller than his mother, at five feet eleven inches, he towered over her slender frame. He brushed the dirt from his pants and reached into a pocket. His sixteen year old eyes burned with delight as he showed his treasure to his mother. “Look, mother, the ultimate crystal for my collection!”

  He held the opaque crystal up to the light. A thin striation – no bigger than the width of a hair – gleamed clear and bright. Sunlight winked at him.

  Clieto grabbed his hand, bringing the crystal closer to her eyes. “It is beautiful son. Is it the one you have searched for?”

  Travlor grinned, “It is exactly the type I was trying to find! Do you think father will be proud?”

  Cleito nodded and started toward home. “I have no doubt that he will be very proud.
However, if you keep him waiting much longer, it will not be your crystal that draws his attention. Now, go! And clean up!”

  Travlor hugged his mother, thrust the crystal into her hand, turned and ran. He felt incredible! He pumped his legs effortlessly and pushed his arms like pistons. Air whipped through his long dark hair and blood thrummed in his veins. He was proud that his breath remained deep and steady.

  As he topped the hill leading to his home, the grandeur of Atlantis unveiled herself before him. What beauty, what architecture and color and design! He could hardly wait to become one of the designers of the great city. He wanted to grow up so fast and yet part of him still yearned for the security of his parents.

  He ran even faster as his father’s thought-form demanded, “Atlas! Where are you? I will not wait all day!”

  “I am coming, father! I am almost home … ”

  His home, on a bluff overlooking Atlantis, was the highest home of the city and had a commanding view of the surrounding area. Enclosed by a protective wall, the courtyard was lush and adorned with gardens and trees and meandering streams. A fountain, in honor of his father, stood in the heart of the courtyard. The music of the falling water lent a magical note to the glorious surroundings.

  Travlor loved his home; built from marble so white, it gleamed like another crystal. It was well known by everyone in Atlantis that this was where Poseidon stayed when he visited. Travlor’s thoughts focused on the god that had sired him.

  Standing six feet eleven inches, the man was commanding even without the god aspect. Travlor smiled remembering his father’s laughter; he could laugh so loud and so long that other’s joined in the laughter just to share in Poseidon’s release of pure joy.

  However, Atlas had also witnessed the lightning and thunder that could strike when his father was displeased. It was frightening and awesome in its majesty. That his father controlled the land and the oceans was a concept that he still had trouble grasping. He didn’t know, being half-human, half-god, what role his father had planned for him, but he hoped with all his heart that it had to do with his loves and passions; design and architecture. At his sixteenth birthday, his father was to divulge his mission.