Rogert finally stopped his motions, righted himself, and gradually backed away. He brought his hands up in prayer pose and bowed his head, “Thank you old friend. I am sorry to burden you . . .”
Gallendar displayed his teeth. “Rogert, you are strong and you will survive, even against your own desires … trite though it seems, time does help and I promise, you will find joy again. Do what you must to release your emotions or they will choke the life from you, and I do not refer to the life of your physical form . . .”
“I will try, Gallendar . . .” Rogert couldn’t think of anything else to say; however, he was able to show his teeth to his enormous friend.
Gallendar backed away, flicked his massive tail once, and was gone before Rogert could blink. Shrugging his shoulders, the Atlantean took a deep breath and turned back to a place he no longer recognized as home.
Ni-Cio and his team were still hard at their labors. Using the disinfectant that Aris had given them, each man worked tenaciously to wipe down every surface of Atlantis. Ni-Cio and his squad scrubbed the kitchens and gathering areas, as well as the surviving living quarters. He had sent the rest of his crew to work on decontaminating the remaining tunnels and the garden retreats that were scattered throughout their home.
The crew reached the last of the council hall/hospital when Ni-Cio threw his rags down. He stood and stretched his back. “How are you doing, Aris? Do you need a break?”
Aris stopped scrubbing and looked up. “We are nearly through and I would suggest that we tackle the Great Hall while we still have strength. I believe Rogert and his men have cleared quite an area where we can continue our cleaning . . .”
Ni-Cio grabbed his rags and bent to his work. He sent a quick thought to his other men. “How do you fare?”
Replies were forthcoming and progress was being made faster than Ni-Cio had originally planned. “Good, as soon as you have finished, meet us in the Great Hall; we will start where Rogert’s team left off …”
The men worked quickly to get the connecting tunnel disinfected and stepped into the Great Hall of Poseidon where they were joined by the others.
It was a gruesome sight, but Rogert’s group had moved most of the bodies to the burial site. Ni-Cio motioned to his friends. “If you could begin taking the bodies out, the rest of us will start disinfecting. Aris, how are our supplies?”
“Running low, but I believe it will be enough to finish the area you have designated. It is without doubt that we will have to return . . .”
Ni-Cio had already decided that the initial pass would take more time. So, before returning to their assignments, he suggested that his men take a break. “Whether you would like a swim or would rather just wander, please give yourselves some time. Meet back here in fifteen or twenty minutes …”
Nods flowed around the room and the teams left through the tunnel to the council hall. Ni-Cio knew that most of his men would opt for a swim. He eyed Aris and raised his brows questioningly.
Aris shook his head. “I am well enough. I intend to push on; the sooner we get this done, the sooner we can start rebuilding. I am anxious to be back in our home . . .”
“Very well, let us continue …” Ni-Cio knelt onto the floor and continued his scrubbing. He watched his friend carefully for signs of fatigue, emotion or anything else that would give him an idea as to his state of mind. Still, he could discern nothing. Aris scrubbed as though he was on autopilot. Ni-Cio decided to follow suit, and leaving Aris to his own thoughts, lowered his head and scrubbed, wishing he could just as easily scrub away the acute pain of loss.
Halfway through their work, Rogert entered, followed by his group. Ni-Cio was glad to see them and stood to take Rogert’s outstretched arm. “You have done well, my friend. I think another couple of passes and the bodies will be where they will remain; without doubt, the cleaning process will continue long after we have sealed off the tunnel. I do not intend to take any chances …”
“Agreed . . .” Rogert signaled his men to finish what they had started.
Ni-Cio wondered at the deep blue lines that colored his friend’s face. It was evident that Rogert had suffered a terrible outpouring of grief. However, because the colors were receding, Ni-Cio could see that Rogert had found a measure of comfort. For that, he was blessedly thankful. He knew how hard Rogert had strived to suppress his grief. He rinsed his rags, knelt back down, and scrubbed harder.
At last, the monstrous display of bodies was gone. Removed from all of the existing halls, tunnels and the Great Hall, the remains had been placed in the designated burial tunnel. It made everyone feel a little easier to know that their families, lovers, friends, and even the mercenaries, had been given a place of rest.
The last action was to blow the tunnel so that the bodies would be forever sealed in their makeshift tomb. It was the only way to make certain that the rest of Atlantis was safe from contamination.
Ni-Cio straightened up, rubbed the small of his back, and surveyed the room. “We are done. Rogert and Peltor, stay with me. Aris, take the rest of the men, get to the biospheres and ready them for departure. We will blow the tunnel and when we join you, we will return to Evan’s compound to find rest and food. You have done well . . .”
The men threw down their various tools and rags and trailed out of the huge room. Peltor went to the set of explosives that Evan had provided. The topsider had helped him set the detonator, but had warned caution. “No matter what you think, act like this is nitro glycerin. There are not enough safeguards for this kind of work.”
Peltor gingerly picked up the box that contained the charges and Ni-Cio and Rogert fell into step beside him.
The tunnel was not far, so it wasn’t long before they stood at the entrance. Ni-Cio watched Peltor and Rogert carefully plant the bundled explosives. Evan had drawn a detailed diagram to indicate how the charges were to be set. The men followed his instructions to the letter.
When they were done, Peltor and Rogert backed away and carefully eyed their efforts. Peltor looked at Ni-Cio and nodded, “We are ready . . .”
Rogert added, “It would be well to be at the biospheres before the charges fire. I do not trust our handiwork that much . . .”
Ni-Cio agreed, “Peltor, set the detonators to give us enough time to get the ’spheres …”
Peltor adjusted the timing, then leapt up. The three men darted for the exit. They raced into the portal cave where the others were standing by, crafts at the ready. As Ni-Cio, Rogert, and Peltor ducked inside their craft, a muffled WHOOOMP echoed through the tunnels.
“Out, now!” Ni-Cio’s thoughts bellowed through his men’s minds.
Hatches materialized and the biospheres sped through the pitch-black tunnel. Everyone was ready to be back in the open sea.
Travlor stood before the group. Eyeing them carefully, he knew that they were entirely under his control. “You are my elite. I have trained you as I have trained no others.”
He paced before the line of men, back and forth, back and forth. Unhurried, he considered his next statement and reinforced it with a compulsion. “You are to guard the woman’s quarters as well as mine without regard to personal safety.”
Not one muscle moved as the soldiers intently trained their eyes on the horizon. Travlor continued, “You will react immediately to any command I issue without hesitation. Is that clear?”
The men shouted as one. “Yes sir!”
Travlor sent another compulsion. More insidious, it took a toll on his flagging energy, but he was willing to risk the drain. He didn’t want them to be susceptible to any other thought-forms, not from the topsider and certainly not from Ni-Cio, should he ever find them. He needed the men willing and ready to fight to the death.
His demand raced through each of the soldier’s minds and Travlor could see the change. Their eyes narrowed and their faces became even more hardened. The men he had hired as his killi
ng machines were now powered by a thought-form that was impregnable. No one else could break through.
He stepped back and felt his legs start to give out. Grabbing the nearest chair, he steadied himself. Stiffening his back, he straightened with effort and resumed, “Never let either one of us out of your sight and when it is time to change watch, be ready to brief your counterpart. Any questions?” Not one twitch among the men. Travlor smiled to himself, then roared, “Dismissed!”
Seated at the dining table, Travlor waited for Daria to join him. Although he had allowed her time to freshen up, he knew she needed sustenance, especially now. The chef he had flown in had usurped the kitchen from the prior cook and now used him as sous chef. Travlor had been explicit in his orders regarding what they were to prepare and when they were to serve. He wasn’t about to let the topsider’s health slide because of lack of nourishment.
“Are you near?” Hungrily eyeing the food-laden table, Travlor could feel his own stomach grumbling in protest.
“Yes, I’m coming. Where else would I be? Your goons are tracing my every step. . .”
“Ah, Daria how you mistake my motives! I have but ordered my men to attend to you for your own health; you have no idea the risks the surrounding jungle holds. There are wild things roaming that you do not want to meet. My men are here to keep you safe. . .”
Daria entered the room with her assigned contingent. Ten men surrounded her, dwarfing her small form with their sheer size and bulk. Travlor had chosen his men carefully, with an eye to size and fitness and inclination to fight.
To a man, no one was shorter than six feet and the muscles that flexed and rippled in their bodies were there not because of gym time, but because of hard use. The mercenaries were experts in different types of martial arts including Jiu Jitsu, the marine’s deadly LINE techniques, and the Israeli’s highly lethal Krav Maga.
Travlor was delighted to see that Daria was barely visible in the midst of her bodyguards. She was crucial to his plans and he wasn’t about to give her any chance to flee. And should the unthinkable happen, and Ni-Cio find the woman, Travlor was fairly confident that the Atlantean could be taken out before he got to her. “Soon you will get used to them and you will view them as no more than shadows …” Travlor stood and offered her a chair.
Daria stared at him with open distain, but took the chair without hesitation. He knew she was famished. He pulled the warming domes from the silver trays and presented their fare. “Help yourself. My chef has outdone himself and I know that you will find most of his offerings quite delectable.”
She didn’t wait to be asked a second time. Daria piled food on her plate and ate as though she hadn’t tasted a morsel in weeks. She barely noticed the wafting aromas and scintillating flavors as she concentrated on satisfying her hunger.
They consumed their meal in silence until most of their needs had been met, then Travlor sat back, wiped his mouth and scrutinized his guest. “You are a most quiet companion. Since we are to share so much time together, I would suggest that you try to initiate some conversation or we will quickly become quite bored with each other. And I have a feeling that you have as many questions for me as I have for you.”
Daria put her fork down. “What could you possibly have to share with me? Any question I’ve asked, you’ve either refused to answer, or you’ve acted like you didn’t hear.”
Travlor was surprised to find that he was discomfited by her steady blue gaze. “So, what would you like to talk about? Humor me and give me a clue.” He tried to suppress the sneer that twisted his lips. It was not how he wanted to start.
He grimaced and tried again, willing himself to smile. “I would like to know about your past. How it is that you came to Santorini? Don’t you have people topside that are looking for you?”
Her gaze never wavered from Travlor’s dark, gray eyes, and Daria took her time. She finished the last of her juice, dabbed her mouth and then pushed her chair back. “You could care less about who’s looking for me. I think you’re merely trying to pry into my life for reasons only clear to yourself.”
Travlor wiped his mouth and pushed his chair away from the table. Crossing his legs, he sat back. “Alright, what I really want to know is why Evan didn’t kill you. That was his duty; that is what I had outlined for him to achieve. Nevertheless, I know he never told you about Santorini and I am mildly curious as to how you ended up there. However, if you do not care to share, then so be it. I have other duties that beg my attention.” Travlor threw his napkin to the table and stood to leave. When he saw Daria’s shoulders slump, he quietly took his chair and waited.
Daria shook her head and shrugged, “I don’t know about Evan killing me. Obviously, he didn’t. I think by asking me to marry him, he was trying to keep me close so that when you got together, I would already be under control.” She thought a bit. “Something just didn’t feel right to me.”
Daria traced the edges of the table, feeling the fine lace of the tablecloth. She glanced at Travlor and clasped her hands in her lap. “I cared for your son, but I wasn’t in love. He kept badgering me to marry him and I was tired of the merry-go-round of why and why not. I decided to give myself time to think things through.” She reached for a glass of water and gulped it, as much to give herself time as to quench her thirst, then began again.
“Santorini came up when an Atlas I was holding slipped out of my hands and fell open to that page. My focus was drawn to that particular island. It was as if my life couldn’t go on unless I booked a fight as soon as possible.
“Once everything was in place, the compulsion left and I was just happy to be going somewhere, anywhere away from his clinging grasp.” She ran her hands through her hair. “Na-Kai told me that Kai-Dan probably led me to Atlantis. I would like to think that she did. All I know is that I was there when I was supposed to be. And, well, you know the rest.”
She sighed and placed her elbows on either side of her plate. “Now, it’s my turn.” She pulled her chair closer and leaned in. “Why? Why did you have to kill everyone?” Her voice broke and tears came, she cleared her throat and tried again. “Na-Kai would’ve transcended soon enough. Why couldn’t you have just waited to kidnap me until that happened?”
All at once, her control snapped and her grief and fury locked on the target. She launched to her feet and slammed her hands onto the table. Silver, china and glassware jumped, spilling food and liquid everywhere. Her chair flew back and clattered to the floor. She threw herself at Travlor. “You killed everyone! You murderer! You vile, stinking excuse—”
Before she could finish, Travlor had her in his iron grip. His eyes bored into her like a drill and his mouth was so close to hers, that for one crazy moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. She struggled violently to get away, but his grasp was impervious. She couldn’t wrench free.
“Enough!” His vehement whisper stabbed her like a lance and she held quite still. With his next words, Daria’s insides turned to ice. “The reasons are mine alone! Bring it up again, and you will be imprisoned in your room and the only sights you will see will be the ones outside your window!”
With every ounce of willpower he possessed, Travlor stayed the hand that was raised to strike her upturned face. When he thrust her from him, she stumbled into the table, just catching herself before she fell.
In that moment, Daria lost all fear of the monster before her. The only thing she knew was that she wanted to hurt the man that stood in front of her with such impunity. She flew at him, hands outstretched like talons. Two strides before she could strike that mocking face, she was surrounded and subdued by the guards.
The fight leaked out of her as quickly as it had flared. She was appalled by her loss of control and she was instantly filled with a deep sense of shame and remorse. The rage and hurt she had expressed were a mirror for everything she knew about Travlor. She coughed and straightened herself. She gently tried bru
shing the soldier’s arms from hers. Squaring her shoulders, she eyed the men. “Let me go.”
No one moved.
“Let her go.” Travlor’s orders were immediately obeyed.
The men stepped aside and Daria approached the Atlantean. “This will not happen again. I apologize.” She studied the man standing before her. She was surprised to find that her fear and her anger were gone. She looked closer and saw a hint of the man behind the mask. Although his eyes flashed hot with temper, Daria glimpsed a pain buried so deep that she knew no one in Atlantis had ever noticed. She hadn’t thought she would ever feel anything other than disgust for the Atlantean. Unnerved by the depth of his pain, she examined the first thought that came. Your hurt is even deeper than mine. And for the first time since knowing the man, she felt something other than abhorrence, she actually felt sorry for him.
Shaking, she reached for a silver pitcher and splashed some juice into her glass. She knew Travlor would never willingly acknowledge a hurt running that deep. Draining the beverage, she changed the subject. “What kind of juice is this? I’ve never tasted anything quite like it.”
Travlor turned away, but as he was leaving, decided to join the game. Their mutual dislike was something they would eventually have to deal with. Right now, his main interest still centered on her health and that of the child’s.
He snorted and crossed to the overturned chair, picked it up, and placed it next to Daria, then casually sat down. “It’s something I devised to help enhance your energy. It’s a combination of pomegranate, blueberries and kumquat. I find it quite tasty myself.”
Currents of Will: Book Two of The Atlantis Chronicles Page 9
