Mer-An raised a hand and caressed Aris’s rugged face, “Look to yourself…I need you safe and well…”
She turned and guided her charges through the tunnel. Aris looked at Ni-Cio and he nodded in reassurance. He signaled Aris to precede him as they waded through the exploded debris and entered the Council Hall.
They readied the biospheres for transport as people began to straggle into the chamber. The injured, and those with torn bioskins, were seen to first. Ni-Cio deployed them into groups, then he and Aris took turns helping everyone to the exit. Ni-Cio was relieved to see that most of the injuries were not fatal and that a good number of his friends were remarkably unscathed.
The last group to arrive was Rogert and his fatigued fighters. When he saw them, he did not need to be told how badly their home had been decimated. The brave-hearted Atlantean had brought up the rear, and as he hoisted two biospheres, Ni-Cio knew how deep Rogert’s sorrow ran.
“That is all, Ni-Cio…we have only the children and one hundred seventy adults…” His face was etched with exhaustion, and deep lines ran from his nose to his mouth. They had not been there before, “There are no soldiers to be carried out…”
Ni-Cio grasped Rogert’s shoulders, “Get your men topside…we do our grieving later…”
Rogert indicated one of the biospheres, “I will leave this poolside for you…” He turned and his men followed. They skirted the gaping hole and made their way to the exit.
Ni-Cio and Aris were the only ones left. Ni-Cio was reluctant to leave, “Aris…I must go to the Great Hall…take this biosphere and leave…”
Aris scowled and shook his head, “We stay together…”
Ni-Cio hesitated, “Very well…come with me…”
They made their way into the wreckage of the Great Hall. Bodies were everywhere. The sight nearly brought Ni-Cio to his knees. He wanted to scream, so great was the senseless loss. His body trembled and tears stung the corners of his eyes. Why was he still alive when so many were gone?
He met Aris’s bleak stare and beheld a mirror image of his own grief. The deep blue stripes of mourning covered Aris’s face and tears soaked his cheeks. At a loss, Ni-Cio lowered his gaze and looked over his fallen people. When he saw Marik’s body, he knew what he had to do.
He wound through the room to reach the epicenter. When Aris followed, he was relieved that he hadn’t left him to face this alone. They halted in the midst of the carnage and Ni-Cio raised both arms. With the greatest sorrow he had ever known, he performed his first duty as Council Leader.
He intoned the first notes of the heartbreaking Song of Passing. As his friend joined in, their thoughts drifted in a silent lament through the charred ruins of the Great Hall of Poseidon. The last of their grief-filled words sighed through their minds and drifted away. They stood in a silent tribute to the lives that had been lost.
At length, Ni-Cio wearily turned to Aris, “Even in the midst of so much death, it is possible we find ourselves having come full circle…to another beginning…”
Together, they left the Great Hall. They traversed the passages of their ancestral home. Their muffled footfalls were the only sounds that echoed throughout all of Atlantis.
Entering the portal, Ni-Cio shuffled to the pool. He grabbed the biosphere and wearily shoved it into the water. He settled himself at the helm and Aris slipped in behind him. The canopy materialized, and without a backward glance, Ni-Cio rocketed from their home toward a strange and different world. When the biosphere burst into the open sea, Ni-Cio looked back at Aris.
“By the gods, it is not over! I will find Travlor and I will rescue Daria! If this terrible end has brought us a new beginning…then let it begin…and may it be glorious!”
END
Breathe in, breathe out. He could not talk. His heart still beat and blood still slid through his veins but the words would not come. With each contraction a band of grief tightened around his heart so that Evan didn’t think it would re-expand and yet it did. Heartbeat, eye blink. Still, no words.
With practiced skill Kyla piloted the craft through the turbulent water. Behind her, Evan watched her movements. They had not spoken since their evacuation of Atlantis, but he felt the breaking of her heart as if it were his own.
On a course heading to his deserted compound, Kyla operated the biosphere with mechanical detachment. Her normally fluid motions were too quiet, too contained. She moved as though the weight of the dead, like remora, had attached themselves to her limbs and might never leave.
Evan reached to stroke her hair, then hesitated. He had no right. Her life had been shredded because of his father. And though he had tried to thwart Travlor’s invasion, by every standard, he had been stunningly unsuccessful. He dropped his hand. “Kyla, when we are clear of this vessel, grab handfuls of sand, and as hard as you can, scrub it over yourself and your bioskin. It will help neutralize the gas.”
A slight tilt of her head was the only acknowledgment he received. At last she spoke, but her voice was thick. She cleared her throat. “Evan, are you all right? You must have inhaled some of the gas. Do you feel any effects?”
He didn’t answer. The ocean floor had risen to meet them and he felt the craft’s deceleration. In the shallows Kyla halted the biosphere and when the hatch dematerialized Evan clambered out.
He gasped from the sudden touch of frigid saltwater. An incoming surge washed over his chest while he helped Kyla out of the craft and he tried to shield her body from the worst waves, but she was already soaked. He ducked underwater, grabbed handfuls of sand and surfaced. He scraped the abrasive grains over Kyla’s back and shoulders. “Do this all over your body and keep scrubbing until I tell you to quit!”
Kyla followed Evan’s lead and vigorously rubbed sand over her body. “What about you?”
Evan did not break rhythm. “Ni-Cio reacted so quickly I’ll be all right, but I don’t want you to take any chances.”
During their ascent Evan had scoured his memories for anything he knew about nerve gas. Although he wasn’t sure what agent had been released, he knew that copious amounts of soap, water, and forceful brushing helped decontaminate most poisons. He continued to scrub Kyla’s back hoping the saltwater and sand would stave off any immediate effects. He needed to get everyone to the compound as soon as possible. The skies threatened and it would be dark soon.
“Kyla, I think the saltwater will be enough to neutralize the outsides of the biospheres, but your people don’t have much time. As soon as they start surfacing get them out of the vehicles and out of their bioskins. Show them how to scrub each other down.”
He stopped and looked at her. Sadness, laced with fright, stared at him out of beautiful topaz eyes. More than anything he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her until her grief subsided and she was able to smile again. Instead, he blinked hard and raised his voice over the sounds of the surf. “The saltwater and sand should be enough for initial decontamination, but I have to go to the compound for extra clothes. Once the bioskins are off don’t let anyone touch them. Use a stick to put the discarded ‘skins into a pile then wait for me!”
Evan couldn’t help himself. He raised his hands to her lovely face and kissed her full lips. He tasted salt and tears and longing. Astonished, he felt her arms wrap tightly around his shoulders. Kyla clung to him and her body trembled, whether from shock or cold or…it took every bit of his willpower to pull away. Evan held her quivering chin and used his other hand to brush the wet hair from her eyes. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Kyla nodded and though Evan would have given his heart to stay, he turned and grabbed the biosphere. He slogged through the surf and carried the craft onto the beach beyond the high water mark. Once he had secured the biosphere he allowed himself a backward glance.
Alone, Kyla regarded him from shore break. He couldn’t leave her. He started back, but Kyla’s thoughts poured into him. “Go, Evan…Please, we must help the others…I will wait here for you...”
Eva
n turned and sprinted up the rocky, cliffside trail.
At the summit he stopped and gulped a few lungfuls of air then headed to the compound in an all-out run. He leapt over the withered branches of the defunct vineyard and slid down the hillside until he pounded into the courtyard in a cloud of dry, red dust.
He rounded a corner and flew past the kitchens where he sighted the sagging, used-to-be-red truck that had been used to ferry supplies. He skidded to a halt beside the vehicle and yanked the door open. He jumped into the cab. Searching blindly, he found the key still in the ignition. The starter ground and he pumped the accelerator praying that the old relic still had some kick. But the truck was stubborn and tired. A string of curses gathered force, yet Evan tried to cajole the vehicle to life. He ground the reluctant starter once more and it faltered. An angry expletive exploded from his mouth. The truck hesitated for the last time, belched blue smoke, and finally rattled to life.
Rusty gears protested being rammed into reverse but without another problem, Evan backed the truck into the lifeless courtyard. He swerved toward a set of cabins, jumped out of the cab and made it through the closest door before the old vehicle jittered to a stop.
Searching the empty room, it was as he had suspected. Two army issued duffels lay abandoned in a corner. He crossed the cabin’s squealing floorboards and hoisted the bags. He shook the contents onto the lowest bunk. Seizing all of the clothes, he crammed them back into one of the duffels, slung both bags over his shoulder, and ran from the room. He repeated the process until he had ransacked all the cabins for every article of clothing.
At last, he rested against the side of the antiquated clunker. He pulled massive amounts of air into his lungs and surveyed the mountain of duffels he had launched into the truck bed.
Ragged gusts of winter-like wind whipped through the compound and Evan eyed the black clouds roiling overhead. Their bloated underbellies warned of the ominous birth of a monster storm.
He had to move. Evan stepped into the cab and alternating between vitriolic threats of destruction and promises of resurrection, the old jalopy bounced its way through the vineyard. The truck wheezed to a stop at the edge of the cliff and Evan pushed the door open. He jumped out and hurried to the back of the truck. Without breaking stride he grabbed an armful of bags, reached the edge of the cliff, and hurled the duffels over the side as his thoughts roared down to Kyla. “Grab the closest bag and get out of that bioskin!”
Drenched in an icy prelude of the approaching storm, Kyla shivered. Her life had turned surreal and Evan felt like her last link to reality. His strong arms tightened protectively around her and she could tell that he tried to shield her from the stinging nettles of ocean spray.
The wind had stirred the surf into a frenzy and they struggled to remain upright. Nevertheless, Kyla refused to go ashore. She had a terrible feeling that if she did she would never, again, see any of her friends or family. She would be the last and only survivor of the horrific holocaust that had been visited upon her people. That, she would not be able stand. So, she remained. Battered by the surf, she ceaselessly scoured the horizon for any indication that someone, anyone from Atlantis had followed them topside.
“I’m so sorry, Kyla…I couldn’t stop him...” Evan’s thoughts were heavy with remorse echoing a lifetime of unshed tears.
Ribbons of water coursed down Kyla’s cheeks and spilled over her lips. She tasted the salt and neither knew nor cared whether the tears came from her own searing sense of loss or were merely by-products of the unremitting sea spray. She swiped her eyes and continued to search the massive line of swells that rolled across the empty horizon.
The genocidal rage that Travlor had unleashed upon her people had taken a catastrophic toll. And she knew that the cavern floors of Atlantis were littered with the bodies and blood of Atlanteans and mercenaries alike. However, she knew the lengths to which Evan had gone to protect her and her people. Her thoughts touched him with infinite tenderness. “I do not know anyone who could have withstood the choices you have had to make...we both have lost so much…yet your safety alleviates a measure of my grief...”
It seemed as though her compassion broke the very heart of heaven. Winds that had sung a mournful dirge escalated to an earsplitting keen and an explosive blast of thunder shook the ground.
Jagged shards of lightning ripped through the rain-engorged clouds and Evan and Kyla held each other before an onslaught that seemed as though every element of heaven and earth had joined in a vast primal wake.
Blinded by the storm’s ferocious display, Kyla almost missed the faint shimmer of light. A biosphere broke from beneath the weight of the sea. Hammered by wild surface waves, it labored to reach shore.
“Evan, over there!” Kyla tore herself from Evan’s arms and bounded through the surging tides into deeper water. Followed closely by the topsider, they grasped the slippery sides of the biosphere and steadied the craft as the canopy dematerialized.
Mer-An, cloaked in dark glasses and earplugs, dragged herself from the vehicle. She willed the canopy closed and clung tenaciously to the stern. Her thoughts found Kyla. “Nine children inside…terrified…more are on their way!”
They strained against the inexhaustible undertow and wrestled the biosphere to shore. The hatch dematerialized opening a new world to some of the last children of Atlantis. Even though their goggles and earplugs shielded them, when they were lifted from the biosphere, they were terrified to move. Seeing them lined up in a rigid silent row, Kyla’s heart wept. “Come to me…we must get you out of your bioskins and into topside clothes…Mer-An is here and we will take care of you...”
Mer-An and Kyla helped the children out of their bioskins and guided them into the surf. They scrubbed their tiny bodies with sand while Evan threw the ‘skins into the empty duffels and found clothing for them.
The storm raged even as Kyla helped the children to shore and into the ill-fitting topside garments. Mer-An stood alone in the surf slowly scrubbing her bioskin. Kyla could tell how tired her friend was by the woodenness of her motions. Evan waded out to help and his quick command seemed to re-energize her. “Mer-An! Let’s move!” Together they scrubbed her down while Kyla found clothes to replace her ‘skin.
Once Mer-An had been clothed, they huddled around the children in storm-forced silence. Relief was palpable when, at last, weary thoughts began to penetrate the numbness that had crept into their minds.
“We are almost there...”
“I am behind you...”
“I think I see shore break...”
“There are others that follow me...”
Through the driving sheets of rain, several dim beams of light could be seen as biospheres breached the surface. Evan and Kyla left Mer-An to safeguard the children and battled their way back into the crashing surf.
Too tired for thought, everyone worked mechanically. Each biosphere was intercepted, dragged to shore, emptied of passengers and secured well past the high water mark. Everyone helped each other decontaminate as best they could.
As the storm shrieked to its furious apex the final vessel emerged from the bitter depths. To Kyla, it looked as though Ni-Cio had lost control of his craft. The biosphere careened through the high seas and hurtled toward a lethal outcropping of volcanic rock. Evan bellowed in a voice heard above the storm. “They’re not going to make it!”
He broke from the group and leapt wildly through the incoming surf. Twenty spent Atlanteans followed his lead. Kyla watched in horror as the men worked to gain a purchase on the slippery vehicle. They swarmed the craft and through their combined strength they were able to slow the deadly trajectory of the storm-driven vessel. At last, they stabilized the biosphere and the canopy disappeared.
Ni-Cio evaw Azaes rose from inside and jumped with weary grace into the storm surge. Even from her vantage point Kyla could see that fatigue had carved tight, grim lines into his handsome face. And the tired, encumbered movements with which he strained against the violent blows of t
he surf, spoke of the tremendous ordeal he had endured. She held her breath. In agonizing degrees he raised one muscular arm to offer aid to his best friend. Aris thrust his body from the biosphere.
Surrounded by Evan and the others, Ni-Cio and Aris were scrubbed down. At last, they waded through the waist-high water and stumbled upon the rocky beach. Kyla had their clothes ready, and once Ni-Cio and Aris were outfitted, they trudged over the sand covered rocks to stand before the shattered remnants of Atlantis.
Kyla moved next to her brother. She took his hand to comfort him and saw the questioning looks wreathed in shock and sorrow on the sad faces of her people. She knew that Marik had bequeathed a terrible task to Ni-Cio, a task that he had never wanted.
His entire adult life, Ni-Cio had resisted the fact that he was next in line to succeed Marik as Council Leader. He had never wanted to be tied down to such an obligation with its inherent responsibilities. His need for something different had been gratified with his job of collecting samples. Wandering the seas and surreptitiously stealing glimpses of topside life helped offset his desire for adventure.
Ni-Cio never suspected that Kyla knew his deepest secret, with his habitual need for wanderlust, Ni-Cio had been bored with life in Atlantis.
When Daria had come into his life, Ni-Cio’s restless soul had found peace and fulfillment. His wanderings had ceased and he had felt secure enough in the new Healer’s love that he had accepted his ascendency with less reluctance.
Now, everything had changed. Travlor had taken Daria, only the gods knew where, and Ni-Cio headed a displaced group of people who had no idea how to survive topside. As the existent Council Leader everyone looked to him for guidance and deliverance. And it was clear that Ni-Cio struggled with his own grief. “Kyla, how am I to guide the needs of others when I could not even help Daria? I am not prepared for this…what can I possibly say that will help? What am I supposed to do?”
Kyla raised the back of his hand to her lips. “Marik chose you, Ni-Cio, no one else…I know it seems unbearable…but he died defending our freedom…his last words were…“Lead them well”…he knew that you would...”
Tides of Change Page 28
