“In the depths of our home, there is nothing more to do. Now we wait. We wait in heightened anticipation for the first merciless, concussive blasts of the explosions. We wait to hear the sounds of drills ripping through the protective layers of our home. And we wait for the first unholy reports of gunfire. Vicious sounds that desecrate our sanctuary and signify Travlor’s inexorable return. Sounds that are harbingers of death and destruction and ruin. For every one of us, down to the smallest child, has been taught that in war there are no victors. There are only survivors.
“In the unremitting, oppressive black of the underwater tunnels, Peltor and his forty-eight volunteers are poised in their lonely vigils. Isolated from the rest of us, their motionless biospheres hide their presence so that the rapacious intruders will never know that they are watched. Tied to their families through continual thought-touch, their selfless courage and heroic actions will be instantaneously perceived by their loved ones, whose appalling task it is to bear witness to the success or failure of their missions.
“Throughout the pathways of Atlantis, it is almost as though sight and sound have never existed. The blackness is so thick, I choke upon it. Every particle of light has been extinguished and with it every sound indicative of life. It seems a frightening simulation of the deathly hush that will descend upon Atlantis should Travlor’s will be done.
“Our guerilla units are secluded in their own obsidian nightmare. They are stationed at various intervals in each of the eight corridors leading to the Great Hall of Poseidon. They have been selected as our first line of defense because the twenty members of each unit are the undisputed masters of the Last Strike. They carry in their packs simple everyday items that range from eating utensils to rocks to hair combs. The items are small, and by themselves innocuous, but in the hands of these elite men and women, every item will prove as deadly as the bullets they soon face.
“Each of these warriors has been entrusted with one precious quartz crystal. They harbor the minerals inside a special pouch within their bioskins. But I know that while they are alone and in the dark their hands check from time to time to be certain the pocket still contains their secret weapon.
“The Great Hall of Poseidon has been transformed into an impressive fortress. Barricaded inside, we still move about. The advantage of nominal illumination makes our wait more endurable. But I hardly recognize anyone behind the eye coverings we wear. And though we are filled with as much dread as the men and women outside the fortress walls, it is wonderful to see that life refuses to be put on hold. Our children still play games, older Atlanteans still share stories, and love still prevails.
“Enclosed but for one connecting tunnel, the refurbished Council Hall, now a hospital, stands undisturbed and patientless. However, everyone in Ylno’s group lingers in fearful apprehension of the first bloody signature that heralds Travlor’s deadly arrival. I cannot bring myself to dwell upon the horrors that must assail our Most Sovereign Healer, but I have never seen one such as her. Without her, we would surely be doomed.
“May Poseidon’s blessings be with us all.” End
Attested to this day: Marik evaw Mneseus
Council Leader to the High Council of Ten
Atlantis
Daria excused herself and walked from the hospital into the dimly lit tunnel. Her uncertain steps echoed off the rough-hewn, unadorned walls. It was with immense sadness that she ran her hands over the obvious marks of hurried construction. The mournful absence of beautiful detail was a stark testament of function dictating the form. The tunnel’s cold, forbidding presence spoke to her of darker days yet to come.
As she walked, shadows pooled and descended to prowl the floor in inky black shapes. She started at the smallest sound. She wanted to talk to Ni-Cio. She wanted to feel his arms wrapped around her and hear him tell her that all would be well.
Though they were conjoined through thought-touch and she could pinpoint his position to the millimeter, she dared not risk communication. If he lost focus at the wrong time, it could mean his death. That was not something she could face.
Midway through the passage, Daria stopped and retreated into the anonymity of the darkling shadows. She leaned against the dank rock wall and shivered. She pulled her robes closer and wrapped her arms around her body. Daria was so frightened that she found it hard to concentrate. She felt smothered by fright.
So, she had stolen this time to assess her fear. She knew it was not self-motivated. She was not afraid of her own death. The indescribable fright that coursed through her was for her adopted family.
Intimate with the crushing feelings of loss and bereavement, she knew that before this horrific ordeal had reached its apocalyptic end, death would reap an overwhelming reward. She sank to the floor and covered her face with her hands.
Overcome with regret, she wished with all her heart that Ni-Cio had let her confront Travlor on her own. If he had, she felt sure that none of this would be taking place and everyone would be safe. She choked back a sob. As she opened the door to the feelings of hopelessness and despair that assailed her, an ethereal voice touched her mind and whispered to her beleaguered soul.
“Daria…child of my heart, have you not yet realized that the gift of life precludes anyone from being safe?”
Daria closed her eyes against the tears that coursed down her cheeks and she buried her face in her robe. She hugged her knees and her shoulders shook, “Na-Kai!”
“I am with you, my beloved…peace, be still…”
All at once, Daria felt the comfort of Na-Kai’s healing presence. Her parched soul drank the joy of Na-Kai’s love and she lifted her face and laughed out loud, “You’re here!”
Na-Kai’s tender reply caressed her, “I am always with you…”
Daria drifted in the love that Na-Kai bequeathed her and reveled in the nourishment of a mother’s care. But after a time, thoughts of Travlor crowded her and Daria bowed her head, “Na-Kai, I don’t know what to do…I’m so afraid…”
Na-Kai chided with a gentle laugh, “Child, trust yourself…you will know what to do…”
“But all this could have been avoided if I had just gone to Travlor…”
She heard Na-Kai’s soft sigh, “Daria…you do not know that…events have unfolded as they should…”
Daria shifted to her knees as if she were a supplicant, “So many lives will be lost…”
“And yet, others will be spared…Daria, events will play out…but you must not despair or lose hope…in life and in love, there is always hope…”
Na-Kai began to sing, and as the music of the spheres washed over her and flowed through her, Daria’s despair lessened. Her spirit became lighter, more at peace. She felt Na-Kai’s presence start to recede, but the Healer’s final words streamed into her heart and bathed her soul.
“It is time, child…remember, you are stronger than you know… always follow your heart, therein lies the joy…and thus, the love…”
Daria gathered her robes and stood. Travlor’s army was at the door. The first dim sounds of detonated explosions reached her. She wiped her tears and lifted her face. She walked back toward the light of the infirmary and toward the shrouded future.
It had begun.
A full day lost to a demented, bullet-headed sadist. The first Taser blast administered by the two goons who had found him had seared him into oblivion. But with each subsequent hit, Evan had experienced a lessening of the terrible effects, the result being that his periods of unconsciousness had begun to lessen. Nevertheless, with the last hit, he had lost more time than he intended.
Alone in his sorry excuse for a domicile, Evan was aware that a change had taken place within his body. It was as though with each shock of the Taser, another hidden door had unlocked. With the last hit, the doors had disintegrated and energy had streamed into his being, coalescing into the forefront of his consciousness. Not quite certain how to utilize this newfound energy, Evan was ready to put it to a test.
He heard the
heavy clomp of his captor’s boots as he marched up the wooden stairs. Evan let his head hang to one side and feigned a disoriented, groggy demeanor. His back was to the entrance, so he listened to the stubborn groan of the ancient door as it resisted the soldier’s inward push. Evan marked O’Donnell’s three unhurried steps, then heard the sudden zzz, zzt of the Taser springing to life.
A wicked laugh issued from his left and Evan felt the heat of the man followed by the reek of garlic-tainted air that surrounded him. Evan knew that the hired thug deliberated as to the most advantageous placement of the prongs. He tensed.
Through slitted lids, he watched the man’s gleeful face come into view. He knew that the mercenary enjoyed his sadistic game. Saliva glistened at the corners of his rubbery lips and Evan was curious to see if it would drool down his chin. The disgusting excuse for a human started to rub himself. Evan closed his eyes. He couldn’t watch anymore, but when the man lowered the Taser, Evan knew the minute he stopped.
Evan opened his eyes. The lascivious smirk that had painted the brute’s ugly face was gone. The soldier grunted. He strained to bring the weapon into contact with his target. To Evan it was almost comical. It appeared as if the man’s entire arm had been frozen in concrete while the rest of his body wriggled like a fish on the end of a hook. Evan smelled the stench of his fear.
The man finally realized that his struggles were useless. A beastly grunt gurgled up from his chest and he looked at Evan. Terror distorted the planes of his face as his eyes bulged and his mouth dropped open. Saliva trickled over his lips. The soldier watched fascinated as his hand, through no volition of its own, turned away from Evan. The jaws of the Taser inched toward his own body. The man emitted a high-pitched scream. He tried to throw the weapon away, but Evan had hit his stride. In a flash, the Taser bit into the soldier’s beefy chest. His eyes rolled up into his head, and in a shower of small epileptic seizures, the man slumped to the floor. He lay in a loose pile at Evan’s feet.
Evan was stunned. He glanced around, half expecting an army of mercenaries to burst through the door. Then he looked back at the man. He tried to understand how he had initiated the energy release. He bent forward and stared at the ties that bound his legs to the chair. He focused on the restraints and felt a quick surge of energy gather in his forehead, and then a small push forward, and it dissipated. Littered across the inert form of the soldier, pieces of plastic skittered to a stop.
With even less effort, Evan unfettered his wrists. He stood and rubbed the raw patches. He jabbed at the dispatched guard with his foot. The man didn’t move.
Evan raised an eyebrow and stepped over his unconscious ex-captor, “I guess I have more ways to skin a cat now.” He grabbed his backpack and made for the door.
At a dead run, he raced through the empty compound and located his truck. He yanked the door open, threw his backpack inside, jumped into the seat and fumbled for the visor. The key fell into his hand and he thrust it into the ignition. Evan ground the starter, pumped the accelerator and the engine sprang to life. He backed away from the kitchens and spun the truck around. Urging the vehicle through the front gates, he turned onto the main road in a spray of gravel that rained against the undercarriage. He sped toward the docks, tires sliding over the gravel paving as he fought the steering wheel. “Ni-Cio! Ni-Cio! It’s Evan!”
Ni-Cio did not reply, but as Evan took the winding turns like a madman, he felt his mind open. He witnessed the carnage through Ni-Cio’s eyes.
Hemmed in on both sides, Ni-Cio and the remains of his unit fought for their lives. Half of his squad lay dead, their lifeless bodies strewn about the tunnel floor. Ni-Cio and the ten survivors waged a savage war against the invaders and took more lives than they gave. Their shields held steady and blazes of lethal energy poured in continuous streams from their outstretched crystals. Men screamed and fell in both directions. The Atlanteans slashed their way through the rear attackers as they tried to reach the gates of the Great Hall.
Evan nearly ran off the road. He had to close his mind to the mayhem and he jammed the accelerator to the floor. His truck hurtled toward the wharves, but he feared that he would be too late.
He veered into the marina, and even before the vehicle skidded to a stop, he was out of the truck. He sprinted over the dock and threw himself at the submersible. He opened the hatch and clambered aboard.
His hands flew through the startup sequence, and with as much speed as he could muster, he piloted the Oceanus out of the harbor. Evan forced the vehicle into an immediate and dangerous dive. He had to make it to Atlantis before Ni-Cio’s time ran out. If he pushed the little submersible past her limits and he didn’t make it…he refused to think about that. He rocketed toward Atlantis, and his thoughts fired toward Ni-Cio with lightning speed, “Hold any way you can! I’m on my way!”
Travlor’s enormous submarines were in position. The drilling had gone more easily than planned. The equipment had worked without a hitch, and at any moment, Travlor expected to breach the walls of Atlantis.
Travlor, along with the bulk of his men, were stationed inside the sub he had designated for the rear assault. As he watched his men work, he received a report that nineteen submersibles had been lost, “So, we destroyed only thirty tunnels.”
He signaled one of his captains, and the man came to a smart salute. “Once we have secured the tunnels, and I have the woman, you are to make certain that the nineteen remaining tunnels are brought down. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Fine. Inform your men.”
The man exited the bridge. Travlor turned and tapped his fingers on the command console as he counted the minutes before they would begin the land assault. It did not take long. The subs ripped through their targeted passageways in record time and submarine hatches were flung wide. His men clambered down steel ladders and dropped to the tunnel floors. Travlor entered the caverns of Atlantis with an army over eight hundred strong.
Through radio contact, Travlor followed the progress of his squads as they swarmed the tunnels. With the aid of lumalights, they soon secured the empty corridors and quarters of Atlantis, and Travlor and his minions converged upon the eight passages that led to the Great Hall. He halted to let his men regroup before they began the advance through the initial assault tunnel. He was proud of his units. They had trained hard, and they were ready.
“Men, this first tunnel will be the hardest, but we bring our might to bear. You have trained for this moment. It is time to unleash the fury of our war machine!”
Cheers rose with guttural savagery and rolled through the halls like thunder. Travlor raised his arms and roared, “We outnumber them, our firepower is superior and you are battle-hardened! Let them feel the heel of your boots as you grind them to dust!”
Travlor’s hands closed to fists and he gave the signal, “Take that tunnel!”
One hundred men poured around Travlor and threw themselves into the portal opening. The sound of automatic gunfire was deafening. Travlor counted the seconds and was surprised. It was taking longer than he expected.
Through the haze of smoke, he saw one of his men stagger back out of the tunnel and he grabbed him by the neck, “Soldier, you are retreating! Get back in there, now!”
Sweat and breath poured from the man and his wild look rolled from Travlor back toward the tunnel, “We fight a demon!”
Travlor laughed and shoved the mercenary away. He insinuated a thought into the man’s brain. The soldier did not hesitate. He hefted his rifle, ducked his head and sprinted back into the tunnel.
Talus’s mate, Riina, led the twenty men and women inside the initial assault tunnel. Travlor’s men gushed through the entrance, but the Atlanteans stood their ground and defended their passage. With desperate courage and deadly skill, the twenty engaged the might that bore down upon them, and for an honorable time, they held.
Nevertheless, their crystals began to shatter. One by one, Riina’s companions fell until she stood alone, the last
defender between Travlor’s hordes and her people.
Riina’s thought-forms blazed and she fought with concentrated ferocity, however, she could not fight forever. As she neared the end of her strength, she knew that she was losing control of her shield effect. She straightened up and lowered her trembling arms. Looking into the eyes of her killers, she signed a heartfelt goodbye. The men opened fire.
With the tunnel taken, Travlor waded indifferently through the bodies of the fallen and signaled the next contingent. Another bloodthirsty cadre poured through the tunnel. The muffled sounds of their boots pounded a steady rhythm as they navigated the death-riddled passage.
The soldiers reached the inner walkway that ringed the Great Hall and they began their second massed assault. Firing into the battlements at will, they provided cover for the units that followed, so that half of Travlor’s hirelings blasted toward the inner entrances of the seven remaining passages.
The inner and outer rings were soon overrun with Travlor’s men. The Atlantean guerrilla units were cut off from the Great Hall and effectively trapped inside their tunnels.
Travlor stayed in contact with his units, and as the separate battles raged in tunnels-turned-war-zones, Travlor led the rest of his men as they prepared to break through the fortress walls of the Great Hall. Under a fusillade of cover, Travlor’s bomb detail surged forward and planted inward-firing explosives on two of the outer walls.
Thick, acrid smoke hung so that it was difficult to breathe. A curtain of gray haze made it impossible for the defenders in the battlements to pick out targets, so there was no return fire.
Bloodcurdling screams of pain mingled with the wretched cries of the dying in a horrifying symphony of death. But it was music to Travlor’s ears and he reveled in the sounds. Every life that was extinguished brought him closer to victory.
Tides of Change (The Atlantis Chronicles Book 2) Page 26