Tomorrow's Guardian

By Richard Denning

When schoolboy Tom Oakley discovers he can transport himself through time, he draws the attention of evil men who seek to bend history to their will.

Tom’s family are obliterated and he soon faces an impossible choice:
To save the world he must sacrifice his family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard Denning
• Release date: Jan 30, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452303796

Richard Denning

Hi - I am Richard Denning. I was born in Ilkeston in Derbyshire and I live in Sutton Coldfield in the West Midlands. For 27 years I worked as a GP before leaving medicine to focus on writing and games.Activities and InterestsI am a writer with a strong interest in historical settings as well as horror and fantasy.Reading - Well I love to. Here are some of my favourite booksLord of the RingsSharpe Series (Bernard Cornwell and his other books)Eagle Series Simon ScarrowDisk world books - Terry PratchettNeverwhere Neil GaimanGamingI am also a keen player of board games and other games and run UK Games Expo (the UK's largest mixed format Games convention). I am a game designer and have pubished several games one of which was inspired by the Great Fire on London.My websitesFor my writing projects go here: http://www.richarddenning.co.ukFor more on Great Fire: London 1666 (the board game): http://www.medusagames.co.ukFind out more about UK Games Expo: http://www.UKGamesExpo.co.uk

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE – THE DREAM

Lieutenant Edward Dyson was fighting for his life amongst the cook fires and tents of the army’s camp. A huge Zulu warrior screamed as he charged towards him, a spear held menacingly in his right hand. Edward sidestepped to dodge the attack and clipped the enemy on the back of the head with the butt of his revolver – the blow sent the warrior stumbling to the ground.

Edward shook his head in disbelief: how had it come to this? Not four hours before he had been one of an army of well over a thousand highly trained and well–armed soldiers. Now, almost all were dead.

Yesterday, the army had advanced this far from Rorke's Drift with little sight of the enemy. Last night they set up camp here on the plain beneath the conical shaped mountain of Isandlwana. His fellow officers had invited friends from the 2nd Battalion over for drinks to celebrate the rare event of two battalions from the same regiment serving overseas together. The last time that had happened, the 24th had almost been wiped out in a battle against the Sikhs in India. Someone had joked that they hoped it did not happen again this time.

Not that this was likely. Indeed, it was preposterous. Surely these Zulus facing the might of Queen Victoria’s British Empire were nothing more than savages with spears and wicker shields. Rapid firing, breech loading Martini Henry rifles, artillery, rocket batteries and well–trained light cavalry would be more than a match for these barbarians.

Edward had thought so: but all that soon changed.

Late in the morning, a squadron of Natal cavalry attached to the British expedition had been scouting far out on the plain, perhaps half a mile or so from the camp. Cresting a rise, one of the patrols suddenly came across thousands of Zulus hiding and resting in a valley. As one, the Zulus rose and hurtled up the slope toward the horsemen, who fell back in alarm and then started exchanging rifle fire with them. The enemy had few firearms and were poor shots while the British were superb marksmen, but the sheer number of Zulus forced the horsemen back towards the camp.

Soon, whole regiments of Zulus emerging all along the British front. The red–coated soldiers formed up into a firing line and began shooting at the natives. The brave enemy warriors fell in droves, but still they came on: as unstoppable as a tidal wave, as irresistible as a glacier. Only the devastating volleys from the British companies kept them back – for the moment.

By now, Edward was learning a new respect for this enemy. His men and those of the other companies were inflicting dozens of casualties with each shot, but the Zulus did not run away. Instead, he could hear them chanting their terrifying war cry: an angry buzzing noise that sounded rather like a swarm of infuriated wasps on a hot summer’s day.

The order now came to fall back five–hundred yards to the camp. Some of the companies moved more quickly than others, creating wide gaps between them. Furthermore, Edward became aware that his men were running low on ammunition. They were sharing out the rounds they had and trying to continue shooting as they retreated. Overall, the result was a slackening of the fire upon the enemy.

Suddenly, with a great cry of uSuthu! almost twenty–thousand Zulus surged forward in a charge on all fronts. The British were quite unable to stop them and entire companies disappeared: swept away as if that tidal wave had finally come crashing down upon them.

So it was that Edward now found himself fighting in the chaos of his camp. He fired his revolver at a fierce looking brute who had just stabbed a redcoat, saw him fall and then looked about for his men. Three were fighting in a small triangle twenty yards away; one firing whilst another reloaded and the third threatened a score of Zulus with his bayonet. A moment later, all three fell to the blades of the vengeful Zulus. To his right, a cook and his assistant were swinging cleavers wildly and shouting in terror that they were not soldiers but it did not save them. The Zulus came upon them, stabbing with their short spears. As his compatriots died, Edward realised he was alone. He glanced around in horror: above him the sky had turned a dark, angry red.

Fifty enemy warriors closed in on him from all around. His mouth felt dry. Shaking with fear he fired his revolver, heard the hammer click on an empty chamber. He fumbled for his sword, knowing he had only moments to live...

Tom, wake up lad; wake up now! Your friends will be here soon.

Tom Oakley opened his eyes, sat up in bed and stared wildly around his room, taking in the PC in the corner, a heap of abandoned clothes and trainers on the floor and the Nintendo DS on the bedside cabinet. Finally, he turned to where his father stood at the open door and gave him a bewildered stare.

His father's eyes narrowed and he came and sat on his son's bed. Reaching over, he swept Tom's hair to one side and touched his forehead to see if he felt hot.

What is it lad? Did you have another of those nightmares?

Tom nodded.

One of those dreams when you think you're someone else?

They seem so ... real, Dad, Tom answered.

His father frowned at him, searching his face. They're just dreams, boy; nothing more, he said at last, getting to his feet. Come on, get dressed. He paused at the door and turned to look back at Tom before adding, Oh yes; happy birthday, son.

Tom rolled out of bed, walked over to his mirror and stared at his reflection. For a moment he was almost surprised to see the young lad with brown eyes and jet black hair staring back at him. Why surprised, though? Was he expecting another face? He rubbed his eyes, yawned and then moved away to get dressed.

It was a warm day in the early spring, so he held his birthday party in the garden. He and his friends played football and then cricket, until he slogged a six over the fence and lost the ball. That turned out to be the signal for tea. There was the usual party food, including cakes and ice cream along with his father’s homemade burgers, cooked and half burnt on a barbecue. Then, of course, there was the cake.

It was baked in the shape of a dalek and as his mother walked out of the kitchen door carrying it, there were shouts of Great and Wow from his friends. The words ‘Happy 11th Birthday Tom’ were written in blue icing on the top.

His mother now started singing, Happy Birthday to You, and all the boys joined in. His oldest friend, James, was singing along with the alternative words, You Live in a Zoo, and Tom stuck his tongue out to blow a raspberry at him. James simply smiled and sang louder.

Tom bent forward, took a deep breath then blew all eleven candles out. His mother put down the cake and turned to take a knife to cut it into slices.

That was when it happened.

The world seemed to give a slight judder up and forwards and Tom felt as if he was being thrust backwards, like he was in a car that had suddenly accelerated, pushing him back against the seat. Feeling dizzy, he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he blinked, because right there in front of him was the cake with all the candles still burning brightly. Around him the boys were singing, Happy Birthday to Thomas, Happy Birthday to You, and cheering. He was convinced they were all playing a trick on him. All the boys were in on it and his mother must have used those party trick candles that keep re–lighting themselves: that was the explanation, obviously. He leant forward and blew the candles out again and then went over to give James a friendly slap on the top of his head.

Heh, James muttered, rubbing his crown. Just for that I won't keep a look out for Rogers!

Kyle Rogers was a bully and Tom’s enemy. Only two months older, but about two feet taller and much wider too, or so it seemed to Tom, who had been only eight when he had ridden his bike round the corner of the street without looking and almost knocked Kyle over. The other boy just had time to jump out of the path, straight into the milk bottles outside Mrs Brown’s house, smashing two and ending up sitting in the milk.

A charging bull would move less quickly: Kyle had exploded at Tom, kicking him off the bike and onto the road and then laying into him with bunched fists, before Mrs Brown came out of the door and chased them both away. Tom ran home with a bleeding nose and did not go out for a week. From that moment on, Kyle took every opportunity to corner Tom and make his life a misery. Fortunately, James was around him most of the time and Kyle did not bother to take them both on, but he still found other ways to get at Tom, like sniggering at him in class when he made mistakes. They were now in the last term at primary school and so Tom endured the jibes, thinking he did not have to put up with them much longer. The summer holidays were fast approaching and it seemed that Kyle was going to a different school in the autumn.

I’m much cleverer than you, Oakley, he had chortled, I’m off to King John’s Grammar school in the autumn, not that smelly old comp down the road you two are going to.

For the next few weeks after the party, Tom and James enjoyed counting down the days until their time with Kyle Rogers would finally be over. Kyle said nothing and just smiled at them. He left it till the very last day at the old school to find Tom in the toilets then he walked up and thumped him on the arm.

Ouch! What was that for, Rogers? Tom asked, rubbing his shoulder.

Just something to remember me by, Oakley: until next term, of course.

What do you mean, ‘next term’?

Oh, didn’t I mention that I’m going to Parklands Comp as well?

What? You said you were going to King John’s! Tom said, feeling his heart sinking.

Kyle smirked, Nah! Was having you on. I couldn’t miss out on keeping you company for the next seven years, he added with another vicious punch, this time to Tom’s belly. Tom collapsed onto the toilet floor and Kyle walked out laughing then turned to add a parting shot.

Have a good summer, Oakley; I’ll see you in September.

Tom dragged himself to his feet and groaned: Kyle, at the same school for the next seven years? Somehow, the summer holidays didn’t seem long enough.

If the strangely real dreams and the event at the birthday party back in April were the only odd things to have occurred, Tom might have forgotten about them, but a few weeks later the peculiar feeling, like sudden acceleration, happened again. He was on holiday with his parents and his sister, Emma, in Spain. They were playing a game of cricket on the beach with some new friends who were also on holiday, watched by a group of puzzled Spanish kids. Tom was bowling as Mike a boy from London who was staying at the same hotel took strike with the bat. Tom ran up and bowled. Mike swung his bat and missed the ball, which clattered through the wicket sending the stumps flying. Emma cheered and clapped and their father, sitting on a towel nearby, shouted, Well bowled!

Then, again, Tom felt the judder and strange feeling of being thrust backwards. He blinked and opened his eyes and now saw that he was once more at the beginning of his run up, the ball still in his hand. Mike was standing bat at the ready waiting for him to bowl and behind him the stumps were still intact. Tom was about to shout to Mike that he was out and what was he doing still at the stumps when, abruptly, he felt dizzy and the world seemed to spin like a fairground ride. A moment later, he was lying on the sand with his father and all the kids around him. His father picked him up and carried him to one of their rented sun loungers.

Are you all right, Tom? said his father. Except that somehow it didn’t sound like his dad. The world seemed very peculiar, though he could not exactly say in what way: it was just– odd.

As if from a long way off he heard his mum ask his dad if they should get him to hospital, when there was a click in his head as if something was fitting into place. Straight away, he felt fine again. He sat up, but his mother told him to lie back down and rest.

It’s ok, Mum, I feel ok, he said.

His dad leant over him and felt his forehead. Um … he’s a bit hot: probably too much sun. Best get him to bed.

Back at the hotel his parents called out a local Spanish doctor who prodded him a few times, looked at his throat and made him go ah before announcing that he could find nothing wrong with the boy. He then left after giving Tom’s father a bill. His mum came over and sat down on the bed.

Oh well, Tom, she said, if it was the sun you should be ok tomorrow. We’re flying home and granddad says it’s raining in England!

As Tom had feared, the summer holidays did not last long enough and it was soon September and time to go to his secondary school. Kyle was unfortunately in the same class as Tom, but if the move to the comprehensive was accompanied by an old enemy, it at least brought some new friends.

James and Tom met Andy in the first science lesson of the new school year. Andy introduced himself by pulling out a long ruler and raising it like a sword above his head and swinging it down towards Tom. Tom ducked down behind the desk ... just at the moment that the teacher walked in.

You can have detention, boy! he boomed to Andy, who was caught wielding the ruler over Tom’s head. That was Mr Beaufin, a clever man who taught science well, but was a terror if you made him angry. So that was how Tom met Andy. The pair became great pals in and out of school. Andy lived close by and the two of them were often out getting into trouble for sneaking into ‘haunted houses’ or rather, in this case, just an old spooky house whose owner, Mr Henry, did not take kindly to the boy Ghostbusters stalking round his windows.

Whilst the boys were lurking under a tree near the house one day, Tom had imagined he had seen a ghost in the window of the house and – without thinking – had picked up a stone and thrown it at the window, breaking it. The police were called in and Tom’s parents were, to say the least, furious when he was driven home in a squad car. That had meant no puddings, computers or TV for an entire week. However, the worst thing was he had to go and apologise to Mr Henry and offer to pay for the repairs out of half a year’s pocket money. At first, Tom had refused to go, saying he did not want to: having to face ‘‘orrible old ‘enry’, as the kids called him, was not a pleasant thought.

Tom’s dad insisted, however. Sometimes, doing the right thing is not pleasant and nice. Indeed, sometimes it is horrible and painful. But, deep down you know in your heart that it’s the right thing and you do it anyway: whatever the cost.

Well, that seemed rather pompous and Tom and Andy were not impressed, but off they went anyway. In the end, it wasn’t all that bad. ‘Orrible old ‘enry had seemed fierce at first, but ended up giving them hot chocolate along with cookies and then he let the boys play with a train set he had in the attic.

The experience strengthened the friendship between Andy and Tom and the two of them gathered a gang round them that included James and two others – Mark and William. They called themselves the Desperados, which was a name used in western movies for bandits, so James had said. Tom thought that James would know: movies were an area he seemed to be an expert on. Andy had been impressed as well and one day he made them all swear an oath of loyalty to the gang and to promise to stand by each other whatever the future might bring. They toasted the oath with coke and then they all recited a solemn vow.

Loyal desperados are we, whatever, whenever, whoever and however anything happens!

All for one and one for all, James had added, having watched an old film recently about the Three Musketeers.

A couple of months went by full of maths homework, French lessons and rugby matches and Tom began to forget the strange incident in Spain. Then, several things happened that convinced him he must be going mad. The first time was on the 5th of November – Guy Fawkes’ night. His family had gone to a firework display held in a local park, getting there early to see the bonfire lit and then round the fun fair to go on the rides. An hour later there was an announcement that the fireworks were about to start. They all bought hot dogs and made their way down the slope to the display area.

Tom was about to bite into his hot dog, when he felt the same strange juddering feeling coming on again but this time, it was different. The sensation of movement did not thrust him backwards as had happened before, but forwards. The unexpected change of direction threw him off balance and he swayed to his left and his right. He reached out to hold on to his father, but his floundering hands grasped nothing more than thin air. Looking around him, he was surprised to find that it had suddenly got a lot darker. The crowd of many hundreds that had gathered to watch the fireworks had apparently left and he was standing totally alone in the centre of the eerily dark playing fields.

The fairground rides should have been behind him, but there was no sound coming from that direction. Turning round, he could see there were no people there either, none of the rides was moving, the multicoloured lights had gone out and plastic sheets had been pulled over the top of most of them. Back the other way, the bonfire had burnt down completely and there was just a heap of glowing ash, where a moment before a raging blaze had been. Tom shivered, although it was at least as much from fear as from the chilly autumn night air.

He peered anxiously out into the gloom. Help me! He shouted, Somebody, please help me!

CHAPTER TWO – AULD LANG SYNE

There was movement in the darkness on the far side of the embers and a moment later a torch light flashed in his face.

Over here: we’ve found him! shouted a voice and then, half a dozen people came running up out of the gloom.

One was a policeman. He peered at Tom, asked, Are you hurt, son?

Er ... no, I don’t think so, Tom answered.

Where’ve you been, lad? You’ve given your family quite a worry, the officer said, missing for hours you’ve been. They tried ringing your mobile, but you didn’t answer.

Look, Sarg, another policeman said, he came back for a hot dog.

They all laughed at this and Tom looked down to see that he was, indeed, still holding his hot dog. The strange thing was, it was still warm in his hand.

He was about to ask to go home, when he felt another juddering motion; but this time it was as if he was being thrown backwards. Above him, the sky was suddenly shattered by a huge bang and a blinding flash of intense blue light.

Tom cried out and dropped his hot dog in surprise. The firework display had started, around him there were now hundreds of excited, smiling faces, all turned upwards to take in the spectacle. About fifty paces in front of them, the bonfire was blazing whilst behind them all the pounding music from the fairground throbbed through the night air.

The shock of the transition was too much for Tom. He felt a wave of dizziness and suddenly the ground came up to meet him and darkness took him as he passed out. He was not sure how long he was unconscious, but at last he felt that click in his head that made everything alright again and opened his eyes. Blinking, as he tried to focus on his surroundings, Tom was very hazy about what happened next. He was dimly aware of his parents leaning over him and heard them say something about epilepsy, then he was being taken home and put to bed, but beyond that he could not recall a thing.

As he lay in bed, Tom heard his dad saying to his mum that children bounce back easily from shocks and horrors. His mum had replied that it may be so, but you never knew if a childhood trauma will later emerge to influence the man or woman they became. Tom found himself agreeing with his mum. To adults, kids might seem quiet and self–absorbed and although most were probably only thinking about the latest toy or game, a few were suffering inside just like he was now. Usually happy and contented, on that Guy Fawkes Night Tom became miserable for pretty much the first time in his life. He had known children who had it tough, of course: William – one of the Desperados – lived with his grandparents because his parents had both died in a car crash. Helen, a girl in his class, spent week nights at her mother’s and weekends at her father’s. The only time they spoke to each other was to arrange the times to hand her over, like she was nothing more than a parcel being collected. Tom always reckoned he was lucky to live with both his parents and that they got on. He had become increasingly aware that fewer and fewer of his classmates were as fortunate as he; they all had reasons for being sad and he really didn’t – until now.

Now, one thought kept coming to him. He was going mad. Yes: it was as simple as that and soon other people would see it in him too. Then, the doctors would come for him and they would take him and lock him up in some mental hospital: he was sure of it. The kids who lived in his street all reckoned one of the housewives was mad. Mrs Brown from number 39, Pinewood Road told everyone that in a previous life she had been a nurse in the Crimean War. She said she had been Florence Nightingale and that she had flashbacks and dreams in which she was working in the hospital with the wounded soldiers. The kids called her a loon and they would now call him one too.

In fact, his classmates were given some excuses to call him all sorts of names soon after bonfire night. He was fairly good at school, enjoyed science and history, but hated French. The morning that he first had trouble at school, his class was having a French lesson. They were learning how to conjugate the verb meaning ‘to be’. Mrs Spencer, the French teacher, who Tom thought looked a little like a pterodactyl as she perched on a stool at the front of the class, asked Tom to recite the verb.

Je suis, he began, then, tu es , il est, elle est, nous suis…

Non! Non! The correct phrase is nous sommes, shrieked the pterodactyl. Start again! In the row behind, Kyle Rogers laughed and whispered the word Thickie under his breath. At that moment Tom felt the forward judder and tried to ignore it. He closed his eyes and concentrated on speaking French and so, gritting his teeth, he continued. Je Suis, tu es, il est…" He stopped, because the class were all laughing at him. He opened his eyes and then blinked because he now found himself not in Mrs Spencer’s French classroom on the ground floor, but in Mr Morgan’s history class on the second. Mr Morgan was standing at the front of the class and looking a little like a firework that was about to explode. Tom thought he could almost see smoke coming out of the teacher’s ears.

I asked you to tell me the date of the Battle of Bosworth, boy; not babble on in a foreign language! Mr Morgan erupted.

What’s wrong with you today, Oakley? Kyle muttered at his back.

Oh, push off and get a life! Tom hissed at him, but not softly enough; he saw Mr Morgan jump to his feet and come stomping towards him.

Maybe you should go to see the headmaster! he yelled.

Tom thought quickly, closed his eyes to try to remember the date and stammered out, 1485, Mr Morgan.

There was an ominous silence and then laughter again. Oh no, thought Tom, not again! What was happening to him? He opened his eyes to see that he was back in Mrs Spencer’s class and it was Mrs Spencer’s turn to launch herself of her perch and lean over him. Tom noticed that her finger nails were long and sharp and he was reminded of claws, which only made the pterodactyl image stronger. One talon–like finger now pointed at the door.

Stand outside until you can recover your senses! she screeched. As he was evicted into the corridor, the last thing he saw was the smugly satisfied face of Kyle smirking at him, just before the door slammed shut.

After lunch there was Mr Morgan’s history class. Tom tried hard to spot the moment that his mind would play its trick on him, but he failed and so had to live though the humiliation a second time, like he was stuck in a time warp. Struggling to fight back traitor tears, he ended up standing outside the second classroom that day and going home with two detentions to explain to his parents. As he dragged himself home with Andy keeping him company, some of their class mates cycled past them. Kyle hovered alongside for a while, before shouting out in a high pitched voice, How do you say, ‘We are’ in French, Oakley? Is it ‘1485, Mr Morgan?’ before riding off with a couple of his mates, all of them howling with laughter. As they disappeared down the road, Tom caught Andy looking at him oddly, like he was not quite sure what to make of his best friend.

The school experience had been bad enough, but next came Christmas. On Christmas day, his grandparents joined them and they were all sitting in their living room opening presents. All year Tom had been asking for the newest video game console. It was the ‘in’ gadget that winter and all the Desperados were hoping for one.

Tom was sitting on a beanbag and had just opened a small present from his uncle, which turned out to contain Kestrel’s Flight, a book by his favourite author. This was the latest book in the series and as the previous one had left the story on a cliffhanger he was both pleased by the present and keen to start reading it. He had to put it down though, because his parents were passing him a large box, which he grabbed from them and opened enthusiastically, tearing off the gold–coloured paper in a few seconds. Inside, he was thrilled to see the console containing the game system and taped to the outside, two new games for it. He was about to open the box and take the machine over to the TV and plug it in, when the judder happened again.

A heartbeat later he was still sitting on his beanbag holding his copy of Kestrel’s Flight. His parents were handing him the console, still wrapped. That was it, he was fed up with all this and had just about had enough; he slammed the book down on his knees.

Not today, please! he moaned in a tired voice.

His mother looked at him, Tom, what are you complaining about? I thought you wanted that book. You have been talking about it all month.

He was about to answer, when he felt the world spin around him. He felt confused and disorientated, dropped the book and put both hands over his head.

Tom, what’s up? asked his mother, the concern showing in her voice.

Nothing, Mum, I just feel a little dizzy, Tom answered. Then, he felt the click in his head and in an instant, the dizziness

Reviews for Tomorrow's Guardian

[kewpie83 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I have a soft spot for time travel stories. There's just something about them that I've always enjoyed, whether it be traveling through flumes with Bobby Pendragon or traveling through time and space in a TARDIS, I've just always liked them. That being said, I enjoyed reading 'Tomorrow's Guardian' by Richard Denning. It has a good mix of adventure, history, and comradery and should catch the eye of the pickiest readers-- young, pre-teen boys-- while still being a fun read for other sci-fi buffs.

If you're a stickler about writing styles, then I have to warn you. While Denning is a fine writer, it gets a bit 'blocky' in places. For example, there are certain pages that are filled with monologues of text or that have a great deal of description that we really don't need as readers.

Aside from that minor issue, however, his dialogue was spot on. There are a handful of instances where you will find yourself laughing or at least smirking at the characters interaction, especially when it comes to my personal favorite character- Septimus Mason.

Speaking of Septimus, it's hard to believe that characters so drastically different could work so well together on paper, but they do! Denning has a wide range of ages spread throughout his novel. For example, main character Tom is an 11 year old English boy who wants nothing more than to be normal. Septimus Mason, the Han Solo of the novel, is a quick witted Welshman in his mid twenties (and my favorite character). Then we have the three heroes taken out of their time, two military men who fought in very different wars and a maid who started a great historical fire. Their ages vary, but even so, they all get along so well on paper! I don't remember a scene where it seemed odd that 11 year old Thomas was hanging around with people who were far older than him. Of course, this could have to do with the fact that Thomas reads older than he is and as he learns more about his destiny, he steps up and takes the lead.

One thing I have to point out is that this novel is written by a European author. There are some terms and phrases that those outside of Europe may not understand. If you are like me and watch a lot of BBC shows, then these references shouldn't phase you. Younger readers or those who don't partake in the fantastic entertainment coming from the BBC might want to keep Google handy for some terms that pop up in this novel.

As opposed to time traveling through made up worlds, the majority of the time travel that takes place in 'Tomorrow's Guardian' is done to historical venues. We see a battle between the Brits and the Zulu's, a sea battle set during WWII, and even the great London fire. I enjoyed the variety of the various historical locations, even if I didn't know a lot about some of the battles witnessed by Thomas and the gang. Where will Thomas go in future books? We can only imagine!

'Tomorrow's Guardian' is best suited to a reader looking for an action packed time travel adventure. It's not something I'd recommend to older teens unless they are into sci-fi or time travel, but if you're looking for a good read for a pre-teen or tween-- keep this in mind! The action elements are attention grabbing, the characters are people I'd love to be friends with, and overall, this time travel romp is just plain fun to read! This book gets 3.5 out of 5 stars

[vabookworm87 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Initially they seemed like really vivid nightmares- suddenly Tom would be fighting in the Battle of Isandlwana in 1879, watching his men get massacred or drowning on a U-boat or burning in a fire. Then things got even weirder as Tom kept experiencing these weird déjà-vu type moments, reliving moments that he swore had already passed just minutes before. Each episode was followed by a fainting spell, and while Tom's parents thought he suffered from some form of epilepsy, Tom simply believed he was going mad. That is, until the night Seamus appeared in Tom's room and tells Tom that he's a Walker, a person capable of traveling through time.Seamus takes Tom to the Institute, where they fight to preserve the flow of time, preventing evildoers from using time to their advantage. Tom is given the option of keeping his powers to help fight the good fight or have them removed and return to being a normal kid. But before he makes his decision, they need his help saving the lives of three other Walkers. It turns out Tom's "nightmares" are more than just nightmares, and only he has the power to do something about them!I had the awesome opportunity to read this book, compliments of the author, Richard Denning! One of the things that immediately caught my attention when reading this book is how quickly the storyline progressed beyond the initial plot. As I began reading, I had assumed the book would focus entirely on the rescue missions, drawing them out into lengthy adventures that would fill the book. That, however, was not the case and the storyline progressed into an even larger plot before I was even halfway through the book. I love when books manage to keep me on my toes! Overall, the end of the story was a bit predictable (how often does the evildoer actually win?) but the story itself was a unique and entertaining read that kept me guessing as to what they would do next!My background on British history is rather weak, so after reading this book, I did a little research on the events that occurred in Tomorrow's Guardian (e.g. the Great Fire of London) and I was impressed by the accuracy of Mr. Denning's work! He didn't simply select a historical event and create a fictional situation based upon it, but he even developed his story around actual events that occurred, such as the fire beginning at the baker's house and everyone escaping out of the upstairs window except for the maid. So not only is this book a time-travel adventure tale, but it's also somewhat educational (Well, for the first half)! The second half of the book breaks into the concept of alternate realities based on different outcomes in past historical events. It's interesting to think of the major impact that changing one event could have on the world!All in all, the book is very well written. The book was written for teens, so it's an easy read. The content is G-rated, and there was a pleasant lack of an adolescent love theme, which many authors seem to be using as a crutch to hold up weak and worn out plots these days! The characters are well developed, and their reactions when they arrived in 21st century London were funny. Seeing as Tom is only 13, there's plenty of room for sequels! The plot is refreshing (Finally! A teen book without vampires!) and keeps the reader engaged. I highly recommend this book to anyone looking for a light, entertaining adventure!

[wrighton9time · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Article first published as Book Review:Tomorrow's Guardian by Richard Denning on Blogcritics.The nightmares continued night after night, Tom Oakley was always someone else in the dream. The faces were not any that he recognized and the time was somewhere in the past. Each occurrence dealt with the death of the person whose body he inhabited during the dream sequence. If that was not bad enough he was having issues when he was awake as well. He would seem to lose time, or find himself in a different place with no memory of how it happened.He begins to think he is crazy, he is only eleven years old and his friends as well as the other kids are starting to look at him strangely. Even his parents are concerned. It is during this time he meets Septimus Mason and his life changes forever. Septimus hooks him up with Professor Neoptolemas, of the Hourglass Institute. It appears that he would like Tom to join the Tomorrow's Guardians.When Tom declines, the Professor offers to take away his powers so that he can live a normal life, but first they need his help. He needs to help them rescue the three that he dreamed. Each of them is also walkers, out of time. In each instance, while they died in history no body was ever found. To the Professor this was proof that they must be saved.Tom finally agrees, he wants to live a normal life, even though the time walking is cool, and he is very good at it. Making the plans to get the deeds done, Septimus agrees to help. There are other factions at work. Redfield is one of those who want Tom to fail. Tom is a threat to the course of history and there are those who feel he should have never been born. When he finally moves on to his next task he finds that Redfield will do anything to make trouble for him.As Tom returns to his home, he finds he no longer has a home; his parents were killed in a fire before he was born and so he should not even be there. Yet he is. Because he was already in the future, he is still alive but has no parents or past. Can he go back to the past and save them? What will it take to rescue his parents and keep them safe in the future?In Tomorrow’s Guardian, Richard Denning has put together a story of events out of British History. The time walking is done with an eye to reality, and the characters are engaging and sometimes wicked. Drawn from real life, the events are real, and Denning makes each rescue an adventure. There is danger and cunning inherent in each incident, keeping the action sharp and engrossing.Denning’s characters are unique and fun, each with their own story. Tom is a great heroic figure for being a child and yet time after time he uses his ingenuity to outsmart the bad guys. He does not always understand the undercurrents of the episodes as they occur, but he invokes trust in those around him. He is mortified that he is the cause of his parent’s death, and will do anything to undo the terrible wrong that occurred.Each of the other characters is a foil to Tom’s courage and ability. They are capable of acting on their own and yet when teamed with Tom they become major players.I would recommend this to parents and young adult readers. It is an interesting and speculative look at time travel in a bit of a different light. It is adventurous as well as fun. The characters are interesting and the story will resonate with the young at heart. This would be a great addition to your child’s library.This book was recieved free from the author. All opinions are my own based off my reading and understanding of the material.