Atlantis Chronicles: Prince of The Olympics

June 16

Michael awoke in a panic. He was down to his last full day with the Atlanteans. He couldn’t seem to summon the Furin Seron, his hidden friend. Many other Atlantean disciplines seemingly were based on

Furin Seron, and no matter how much Rann’n said that it just takes practice, Michael had run out of time. By tomorrow evening, he was due back home. He talked with Mann’n and Yai-Yama’l, but both were confident that Michael would discover it-even if he did it on his own. He was beginning to think that humans just couldn’t do it, but Cad’l assured him that, centuries ago, there had been many human ‘mages.’ Rann’n and Robb’n returned after breakfast to work with him, but noon came and went with no substantial progress. Michael could look within himself and communicate with almost any part of his body, but he couldn’t manipulate cells like an Atlantean. He could look outside his body and see himself and others with his own eyes closed or open. He was beginning to see through the eyes of other beings, but he was disappointed in himself. Once he started to push too hard, Rann’n ordered him to stop.

Yai-Yama’l was still with Mann’n in the great room. Linn’n was there too, but he was looking in a book. They all turned to Michael as he walked up.

“Pardon me, Yai-Yama’l, but I would like to thank you for the kind words and the confidence that you have in me. I will try and live up to them.” Great smiles crossed her and Mann’n’s faces.

“Michael, your friendship will be a boon to the Atlantean people, and you are more capable than you know. We do have every confidence in you. One word though, the sae-cosianney is a double-edged sword. It may open a few doors for you, but Atlanteans have some enemies with long memories. Be prepared.” Yai-Yama’l bowed.

Mann’n stood and walked with him to the other end of the room.

“I, too, would like to thank you, Michael. You saved my life when you took me home weeks ago. Now, you honor me with a bond of friendship that I will cherish always. You have amazed me with your openness and compassion. Your people should be proud of you. I would not be surprised if my fellow Atlanteans were to keep a watchful eye on you. The book you write, and you yourself, are a message of hope for them.”

“Until I met you,” Michael said, “I had no idea of the existence of Atlanteans, let alone all that you can do. You are like superheroes.”

“Now, as for the Furin Seron, I suggest you resume your practice in a few days, but in private. It is like the sink in your bathroom at home. Sometimes a trickle is precisely what you need, sometimes only

a torrent will do, but either way, you are in control, whether it runs hot or cold. For now, I must continue my talk with Yai-Yama’l. It looks as if Linn’n has found what we were looking for.” Sure enough, the two others had gathered around the book.

Michael went down into the kitchen and helped Cad’l prepare the noon meal. Cad’l climbed into the vertical storage chamber to get each of the ingredients as Michael did some chopping. The dish was called Suentia-pala. It had hazelnuts, honey, onions, and some wild leaf that Michael chopped up fine, a bit of sea salt and that mysterious red powder that he had noticed in nearly every meal- something called

‘dried farrow root.’

“Cad’l, I haven’t eaten so little at a meal since I turned thirteen, but I haven’t been one bit hungry. Everything has been delicious. Thank you so much for hosting me this past week.”

“You are very welcome, Sero une-la Lantasia. I have enjoyed watching you grow this week. And you have done well.” She bowed, then together they carried the bowls into the great room.

After the meal, Michael went out to the lean to and began repacking. Once his backpack was packed up tight, he took down the rest of the shelter, scattering branches in the thicket. He was about to return

up the tree to fetch his hiking boots and notebook, when something didn’t feel right. He focused outward and felt a vibration growing.

A moment later, he could hear it. He tried looking down the valley, but could barely see through the canopy of the old growth forest. By the time he had stacked his sticks where he could take it up for fire

wood, the sound had grown to a monstrous thrum.

Michael stood as the mammoth machine came into view and raced overhead, the valley pulsing with the echo. He watched as the twin rotor monster moved slowly on, then returned to hover directly over the thicket, cedar branches danced in the hurricane of wash from those rotors.

Suddenly, Michael was grabbed from behind.

“Where’s Rob?“ Dennis had him by the right arm, and was screaming into that ear, though it was still barely audible over the roar. Michael had not felt his approach.

“I want the other guy!” Dennis jerked Michael’s arm above the middle of his back.

“Oww! I don’t know!” Michael cried, “I don’t know where he is!” Michael wasn’t sure if Dennis could hear or not. He was thrown face first to the ground. Then he felt Dennis sit on top of him and holler something. A moment later, the helicopter flew off down the valley.

“Where’d your friend go?” Dennis screamed.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since lunch.”

“Well then, let’s just sit here nice and tight and see what happens.” There was no way Michael could allow that. He knew the Atlanteans would eventually be discovered. He focused outward, saw his situation, and made a plan. He summoned his strength, rolled twice downhill toppling Dennis, then scrambled to his feet and raced away from the thicket. He felt something hit him in the back of the leg, making him stumble. His mind’s eye saw the helicopter begin landing in the hollow where they had played tag two days before. Pulling the dart out instinctively, he continued away from the thicket, staggering.

“No! He wen’ this way!” he shouted slightly incoherent. Lightheaded, he turned to run on, and smashed across the stream before passing out.

X

“Damn it, Dennis! Answer the walkie-talkie will ya!” Tony Sartonni led his little squad up the hill toward where the chopper had hovered over Dennis. They had seen him and Michael Curtis before

returning to the nearest landing spot, a small hollow about a mile and a half down the Bogachiel. That was twenty minutes ago, and there had been nothing from Dennis since.

“That ain’t like my brother, Tony!” said an enormous man with a marine crew cut. He was barrel chested, the little dart rifle barely a twig in his arms. Worry now distorted his freckled brow.

“I know, Mike. We’re almost to the cedar thicket that we overflew. We’ll find him. John, Jason, fan out. We’ll walk a line.” The four men spread out to about thirty feet apart. The advance was slow going through the brush and up the slope of the western forest. Tony and Mike carried dart rifles. The others carried nothing. The cedar thicket, dark and foreboding, was ahead of them, when Tony slowed.

“This is where we saw Dennis and Curtis. Mike? Do you see anything? He began rummaging around the area, looking for tracks.

“It sure is nice these boys know ’bout tracking so well.” John offered as he and Jason joined Tony in watching Mike crouch, explore clues. Tony thought back to when he hired Dennis and Mike to help him find the healer. They came highly regarded, nothing like his regular crew, amateur hunters at best- very limited in the wilderness, but loyal.

“Both of them were right here by the creek, but that’s where the trail ends.” Mike explained. “Stay where you’re at. I don’t want you to contaminate the tracks around here. I’m gonna search to try and pick up the trail.”

Tony and the two members of his construction crew watched as Mike walked widening circles around the spot.

“Where do you think they’ve gone?” John asked.

“Don’t know, but I don’t think Jason’s stepbrother could overpower someone like Dennis.”

Jason nodded, “He’s a runt.”

“Maybe he got loose and hightailed it outta here,” offered John.

“Dennis would just dart him. He would have let us know, too. No. I’m thinking that Michael had help. Which means that “Manning” is here too. Let’s keep on the lookout and spread out.”

Tony watched Mike rummaging around in the ferns, then started searching the west side of the creek himself. John walked over to the cedars and disappeared into the thicket. After a couple of minutes, Tony noticed that Jason was still standing in that one place, looking into the trees, when he suddenly pointed.

“Hey guys! There’s somebody up in that tree!”

Tony glanced to where he had pointed, just as Jason yelled and retreated at a run.

“They’re shooting at us! Run!” An instant later Jason fell, screaming, with an arrow in his leg. Tony crouched low, half behind a rhododendron, and raised his dart rifle. There was no sign of any

movement in the tree branches. He tried to follow the noise and spot the screeching Jason, but an arrow zipped past his own head. Checking his ammo, he had three darts, one of them in the gun. The bad news was the range of a dart rifle is less than forty yards. A few moments later, Mike joined him behind the bush.

“Got any more darts?”

Tony gave the ex-marine his extra case of two spares.

“Have you seen John?”

“He went into the cedar thicket.”

Mike shook his head as he reloaded his air rifle. “We have to get Jason, find John, then get back to the chopper. I’ll find Dennis on my own. Quietly.”

On three, Tony followed Mike out to Jason, while watching for movement among the tree branches. The arrow still stuck out of the back of his thigh. As they grabbed him, John crashed out of the thicket carrying an unconscious Dennis over his back. No small feat. Mike hustled over to help as Tony convinced Jason to stand and retreat together. Seventeen minutes later, they climbed into the CH-46 Sea

Knight, which had powered up, and headed back down the mountain.

X

“Tell Cad’l . . . coming around.”

“. . .Michael . . . us a scare!”

When his thoughts finally focused, Michael realized he was in his room in Cad’l’s cedar house. Yai-Yama’l and Mann’n were there. The sun was behind the ridge but the sky was still blue. The air had turned cold.

“What hap . . . Where’s . . . Dennis?” The smile on Mann’n’s face dropped, as did his eyes.

“We thought you were poisoned!” Cad’l sobbed as she joined the others. Yai-Yama’l gave Michael a wooden cup of water.

“Mann’n! Is Dennis okay? Where is he? He’s not . . .”

“He lives. He was taken by the invaders from the air ship.”

“Air ship? Oh yeah. The helicopter. Invaders? You’re kidding me? In a national park?”

“Yes. There were four of them. They had guns such as Dennis did. We were able to drive them off.”

“Wait a minute. Four guys, and Dennis, you drove off five men with guns? How? Did you hurt them?”

Cad’l broke in. “Myk’l winged one with an arrow. The rest fled.”

“Where did all this happen?”

“Just at the bottom of the thicket.” she said.

“Mann’n, you know what this means don’t you?”

“Yes, I believe so, but I was more concerned about you. You are the expert on humans.”

Michael turned to Cad’l as he climbed off the bed.

“I am so sorry, but you’re not safe here anymore. It could be in a few hours, or a few days, but they will return. Next time there might be thirty. They’ll have dogs, night vision goggles, heat detectors and bigger guns. They are hunters and they sense that they are close to their prey. I’m sorry, but you must abandon this beautiful home, Cad’l. Don’t look back. Never return. It wouldn’t be safe for you

or any Atlantean.”

Mann’n comforted Cad’l. “Sadly, it must be as he has said. Come, let us prepare. We must take you away from here.”

“And I must proclaim jouririe.” Yai-Yama’l added. “We Atlanteans must go where we can live safely, where we will not be hunted. We all must go.”

Michael ran after them. “Wait! Wait! You’re all leaving? I thought just Cad’l’s tree house . . .”

“Soon it will not be safe anywhere in the park. You know this, Michael.” Mann’n returned. “Once jouririe is called, within three weeks, all Atlanteans inside the park will have moved on. Very soon,

everyone on the nine rivers of the park will have heard it. They know what it could mean. Please help Cad’l gather the things for the journey.”

June 17

Michael stood solemnly beside the others. Cad’l was freeing the cedars. She had done the same at every level of the tree house. She had caused the cedars to reform, blocking doorways and making the

great stairway virtually disappear. The intricate shapes around the great room were particularly difficult for Cad’l to free. At last, with a tremble in her voice, she altered the bottom of the great stairs. In the eerie glow of her work, the thicket now looked like any other. As the blue light faded, there was nothing Michael could see. It was full on night, the light from the crescent moon unable to penetrate the thicket. The clouds away to the southwest glowed with some of the city lights from Forks, but the rainforest remained dark. Michael heard Yai-Yama’l step forward, embrace Cad’l, and whisper into her ear, ending her tears. Someone stepped forward and helped her into her cloak and backpack, then Michael followed as best he could as the group of Atlanteans hiked quietly in a single line to the ridge. Once there, they stopped and turned to Michael. In the faint glare from the clouds, he saw Mann’n step forward.

“Michael, we must part here. I am sorry for what has happened this afternoon. I . . . we . . . have a great need of you now. You must tell my people and yours, that a new age is on the horizon. But this

will not do.” He traced the Sae Cosianney with his finger. “Please. Allow me.” He grabbed Michael’s right hand with his, placed his left hand on Michael’s temple and closed his eyes. Michael did as well.

Michael immediately went into a meditative state and felt Mann’n focus upon and summon a spark of warmth from deep within Michael’s own body. Michael felt it travel toward Mann’n, but it was rerouted up his arm and approached his own finger. Mann’n traced the Sae Cosianney with the spark in Michael’s own finger. Once done, Mann’n released the spark back into Michael’s own body.

“Wearing the Sae Cosianney is a great honor, but, it will not do to brand you as a target for Atlantis’ enemies. It will be there whenever you might want it.”

Michael opened his eyes. The other Atlanteans nodded toward him, then turned to head east up the ridge.

“Be well, Michael. Sophie’s grandson has more than repaid any debt.”

With a smile and a wave he turned and was soon over the crest of the ridge following the others. Michael stood, watching them disappear. He stayed a while in thought before he turned to hike back over Sugarloaf, after digging out his flashlight.

X

“Thanks for the lift, guys! I’m Michael” He opened the passenger door on the motor home, then took off his rain poncho, shaking the wet off. The woman in the cabin leaned over and took it from him,

then was back in a moment for his backpack.

“Don’t worry about it!” said the driver, “Sharon wasn’t gonna let me pass you up on a miserable morning like this anyway. Don Baxter’s the name.” He motioned Michael onto a nearby seat. Michael hopped in, untied his soaking, muddied boots, stuffing them in a plastic bag Sharon handed him before the big RV pulled forward.

“Thank you, Don. Sharon. Nice to meet both of you. If you wouldn’t mind, I think that there’s a bus stop at the west end of Lake Crescent.”

“Actually,” Sharon said, “we’re headed clear out to Pullman to see our son, Stevie. He took a job at Wazoo for the summer, but we miss him so. Kimmie too! She’s in Cheney though, so we’re just heading out to see them both!”

“Hon, Michael sure ain’t interested in all that.” Don said.

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” Michael objected. “Could you drop me at Sequim?”

“Yep. Is that where you’re from?”

“Yeah.”

“So what are you doing way out here on a morning like this?”

“Hiking. I just hiked around Olympic National Park for a week. Just came down the Bogachiel trail.”

“Say, were you after that gold up there?” Sharon asked.

“There’s nothing up there. Not for long anyway.” he replied.

“Must be nice to be free from school to just up and go hiking for a spell.” Don said.

“Yep! Summer break! And, it must be equally nice to pack up an RV and head off whenever you want, too.” Michael replied.

“Aww! He just wants to get out of the rain!” Sharon teased.

“You know as well as I, Hon, that around here, there are only two seasons- the rainy season- and August!”

Michael laughed. It felt good.

“Would you like something warm to drink? Wouldn’t want you to catch cold.” Sharon offered while handing him a towel for his dripping hair.

Michael looked inside and saw that now familiar spark warm him from deep inside. Mann’n had shown him his own Furin seron. It was his parting gift. His “hidden friend.”

“Thank you, Sharon. That would be wonderful!” he said with a smile.

X

Michael had been home for nearly two hours, and had just stepped into a t-shirt and shorts after a shower when the rest of the family arrived. Jason was on crutches. Teresa and Mom were helping him down the stairs to his room. Bill, who held the door and big bags of stuff, was the first to see Michael.

“Hmm! Back from camp are you?” he said sarcastically. “Stay right up there. Your Mom and I need to talk with you.”

“What happened? Is Jason okay?”

“He’ll be fine in a few weeks. He was shot in the back of the leg with an arrow. But, we heard that you knew all about that!” Bill followed the others down the stairs.

Forty minutes later, his mom and step-dad came into his room. They were curiously calm. As they sat on his bed, so he started.

“Mom, I have an apology to make. I was not in Seattle. I spent the last week with Mann’n. ’Uh, his real name is Mann’n, you know him as ‘Guy.’ Anyway, I knew that you wouldn’t have let me go, so I created this whole writer’s camp, thing, up. ’Um, actually, the camp is real, but I didn’t go. Anyway, I told Teresa, and explained it all to her, so at least someone would know where I was. I’m sorry I lied to you. I just . . . I just . . . I needed to go.”

“We know about that,” Mom said. “Teresa had such a guilty conscience that she called and told us the next day after dropping you off.”

“What I want to know about,” she continued, “is about the shooting. We’ve just spent most of the night at the emergency room. Tony told everyone about how you and Guy nearly killed all of them with bows and arrows. He said that Guy shot Jason! It sounded like Fort Apache up there!”

“Me?” It wasn’t me! Mom? Bill? Did Tony tell you that he, and Jason, and a bunch of other guys were hunting for Mann’n with tranquilizer guns? They were gonna kidnap him! They shot me! A guy named Dennis did! Look, back here is the mark. The dart hit there! If Mann’n did attack them, it was probably just to protect me!”

Mom looked at Bill for a few moments. Bill stood.

“I’m going to see what Jason says about dart guns.”

“Bill?” Mom said, “Let’s get Michael’s version of what happened, then we’ll go get Jason’s. It seems that right now, we’re relying on Tony’s version of what happened.” He sat down again.

Michael told about he and Robb’n meeting Dennis, then how Dennis surprised him yesterday as the chopper arrived, then he explained how we was able to escape from Dennis, only to be tranquilized.

“The next thing I remember is waking up in the room with Mann’n, ’er, Guy. He told me about how they were all attacked by a batch of soldiers with dart rifles shortly after they carried me into the house.” His Mom and step-dad sat looking at each other for a bit.

“We would like you to stay here in your room until you hear otherwise. Call it a consequence for writer’s camp.”

“Okay, Mom.” They walked out.

Teresa made dinner. Michael gave her a hug when he was asked to come to the table. Jason stopped short when he saw Michael, but Bill made him sit.

“It’s Father’s Day dammit! It’s the least you can do!” Michael immediately blushed. He had completely lost track of days. He stared at Teresa and mouthed the word ‘forgot’ when she finally looked at him. She winked, then gave a thumbs up signal.

After the meal, Bill thanked Teresa, then asked that the boys stay behind as the girls began the dishes.

“I believe you each have something to say to each other,” he said.

Michael started. “Jason, please forgive me for any part that I might have had in your injury. I doubt that there was any intention of harming you permanently, but I will not allow anyone to hurt you, not even my friends. I doubt that I will ever speak with Guy again, if this is how he treats my family.” Both Bill and Jason seemed surprised by that.

Then Bill turned to Jason. “Your turn.”

“Michael, you’re a runt and a bother, but . . . I should have backed out the minute I heard that you were involved up there. Sorry.”

Bill shook his head. “Jason . . you’re nineteen, but you sure don’t act like it. You follow Tony around like a puppy. You could’ve ended up in a whole lot of trouble. He had you doing all the dirty work. Tony would’ve gotten off scott-free. In two weeks, when you’ve healed, we’ll talk again. Maybe, Tony isn’t such a . . .”

“Happy Father’s day, Bill!” Teresa and Marie walked in holding five slices of pie and a gallon of ice cream.

For Father’s Day, Teresa had committed both Jason and Michael into paying for Seahawk and hockey tickets for Bill’s trip to Chicago in November. Mom’s gift was arranging the hotel and airline. Afterward, Michael talked with Jason.

“Is it sore?”

“Yeah!”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“You mean like call up your friend Guy to heal it? Jeez, Michael!” He struggled to his feet, grabbed his crutches and headed back down to his room. The rest of the family stared after him.

August 25

“So when do you head back to school?” Rick asked as they wrapped up the copy of the final manuscript to send it on to Jennifer, the editor assigned to them.

“We start up again after Labor Day. A little over a week.”

“You’re a senior now, right?” Michael nodded.

“Ya know,” Rick continued, “you’re gonna have one hell of an answer when everyone asks what you did this summer.”

Michael smiled. The second publisher they talked with, Albatross Press, already had most of the book. Rick and Michael had just placed the last chapter in a jump drive, and were celebrating with apple juice. If everything went well, the book would be on bookstore shelves by February. He and Rick called it ‘the book’ because they couldn’t agree on a name. ‘Olympic Magic,’ was Rick’s choice. But Albatross didn’t want to “regionalize” the book. They said it would slow sales outside of the area. They wanted ‘Atlantis Returns,’ or something like that. Michael didn’t care, but he didn’t want the word magic in the title. The title that was currently in use was ‘Mountain Mage.’

As Rick pulled his battered yellow Volkswagon out of the driveway, Michael strolled to the curb to pick up the mail. He slipped into the passenger seat as Rick began speaking of what he would be doing with his small share of royalties, his five percent. Michael began leafed through the few letters. There was a Radio Hut catalog for his mom, a mailer from the local pizza restaurant, and a bill from the cell phone company. He put them onto the dash above the glove box, leaving just a hand written letter addressed to him. There was no return address, but it was postmarked Black Springs, Nevada.

The letter itself was hand written in blue ink on a yellow lined pad. It was printed out neatly, definitely, in a male hand. The entire letter was one paragraph. It was dated August 16. Michael read on.

Dear Michael Curtis,

I am Raphael Mendoza, but you don’t know me. I was ask to write to you and tell my story by someone I owe a huge debt to. . . your Bro. I am sorry that my English is not so good, but I don’t want to get this translate at my company. My nino and me are camping at Frenchmen’s Lake, California. We hike into the Sierras one morning and return to the camp at the lake in the hot afternoon. We take a swim, then go for a nap. My son, Arturro awoke before I do, then take a swim again. When I awake, his mama and I find him drown in the lake. We start crying. Your Bro come and sit beside Arturro. He move his head, and make the water come out. Then Arturro start living again. When I ask your Bro what I do to pay him back, he said to write this letter.

Thank you, Raphael Mendoza.

Once at the post office parking lot, Rick turned off the car engine, then glanced at Michael, who was

quietly studying the letter.

“You ready to send this?” He asked, grabbing the manilla envelope with the manuscript jump drive. Michael shook his head.

“Not any more. Look at this.” He handed the letter over.

Rick read it quickly, then pulled his cell phone from his pocket. After turning it on, he laughed.

“There’s another message from Tony! He’s still after me to go up and see the site of the ‘Bogachiel ambush.’ He’s named it now.” He checked his pocket notebook, then punched in a ten digit number. After a moment, he punched in three more. “Jennifer, it’s Rick Delby here. I’m with Michael right this minute, we’re at the post office. We’re here with the last chapters, but another lead has just fallen into our hands. It’s a letter from Nevada. We’re gonna mail it to you as well, then hop a flight down there and check it out. We’ll be in touch when we know more.” He clapped the phone off. “It looks like we’ll be busy right up until school starts for you.”

“One question though, Rick. Why is Raphael calling Mann’n, ’my Bro?”

“Slang,” he replied, “In Spanish, ‘hermano’ is brother. Slang for ‘hermano’ is ’mano.”

“hmm. Mano . . . Mann’n . . . I guess it makes sense.”