Guardian's Awakening: After Atlantis, #1

By K.M. Carroll

Tane is the beta in his team of superheroes--the muscle who lets his team do the thinking. He and his friends defend their small town on the Atlantean Isles from the experimental robots of a neighboring mad scientist, earning enough bounty to live on.

When Tane discovers a mysterious gem that threatens to take over his mind, he accidentally drags his friends into becoming the crew of the mysterious Mercury Island. In addition, the island accepts Tane as its Guardian, making him the leader of the group. This sparks a cascade of conflicts between himself and the previous leader, Sebastian, who doubts and questions Tane at every turn. To make matters worse, they discover that a girl lies in stasis deep within the island--and she is the most powerful super of all.

Now Tane is in deeper and deeper trouble as the girl's powers awaken, attracting the attention of supervillains and monsters alike. But she is the key to making Mercury Island fly again.

Tane has only begun to grow into his Guardian role, but his enemies--and allies--may kill him first.

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.M. Carroll
• Release date: Jul 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781393051572

Book preview

After Atlantis, book 1

Guardian’s Awakening

By K.M. Carroll

Table of contents:

Part 1: The summons

Chapter 1: Storm

It wasn't the giant robot spider stomping through town that concerned Tane Casak that morning. He wasn't even worried about the townsfolk he was helping usher to safety as his friends rushed in to attack the robot.

It was the weather.

The Atlantean Isles lay east of the Bahamas, making them warm and tropical, and a popular tourist destination. It also put them in the path of hurricanes part of the year. Tane hadn't checked the forecast in a few days, but that line of black clouds looked like a heck of a storm. A rising wind tugged at his dreadlocks.

The burly twenty-two year old tightened his grip on his steel knuckles and sprinted toward the robot spider. It was two stories tall, its metal tarnished brown and green, built from parts salvaged from the ruins below the islands. He delivered a blow to a knee joint that crumpled the leg. One down, seven to go.

Hey Sebastian! Tane yelled.

His adopted brother climbed a leg and ran up on the spider's back. Like the rest of their team, Sebastian Vento had superpowers, granted by the semi-corporeal crystal shard that developed inside most people at age ten. While Tane had a shard that granted him unusual strength, Sebastian's shard allowed him to outrun a speeding car. Some people had such strong powers that they became real superheroes, fighting crime for a living. Tane, Sebastian, and their friends aspired to a fat team sponsorship someday.

Sebastian stood atop the spider as if this stunt was no big deal, combing his fingers through his blue hair. S'up, Tane? Gonna let me have all the fun, here?

Storm coming, Tane said, pointing at the black clouds looming on the horizon.

Sebastian glanced at the sky. As if sensing his distraction, the spider bucked, pitching its rider off into the street. Sebastian landed in an athletic tumble. No fair!

Tane ran under the spider's belly, narrowly missing a slashing blow from a clawed leg. He aimed a blow at another leg, but a pink-haired woman with a crossbow planted a bolt through the joint. This was Eileen Bryant, nineteen. Her strengths were mental, rather than physical, but she made up for it with her weapons.

That's tropical storm Nyssa, Eileen said conversationally, sidestepping a blow from the spider. It'll be here tonight. Where have you been, Tane? We've been boarding up windows for two days.

Tane glanced guiltily at the houses around him. They were nice little bungalows with tight shingle roofs, sheets of plywood nailed over every window. How could he be so oblivious?

Sebastian raced by on his way up the spider's side again. This time he ground a heel into the spider's glowing red eyes, shattering the glass and ruining the components. The spider's movements slowed as it lost sight of its targets.

The team redoubled their efforts, destroying the spider's remaining legs, and finally brought it down in a smoking heap.

Afterward, Tane and Sebastian dragged it to the scrapyard outside Bygone Village, where the police would verify the take-down and write up the report that would earn them the government's standing superhero bounty. Eileen had gone to help the village prepare for the storm.

How could you not notice there was this storm coming? Sebastian panted, straining at the rope over his shoulder. It's been all over the news for a week.

I was busy, Tane said defensively. I got one of those kits to build a desk. I've been working on that.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. How many times have you put it together backward?

I can follow directions! Tane protested. When his brother raised an eyebrow at him, he buckled. Twice.

Sebastian laughed breathlessly. You could have asked for help!

Tane didn't answer. He was tired of being laughed at for his near-dyslexic reading skills. Being the dumb muscle of the team was comfortable, but it got old.

They hauled the ruined spider through the gates of the salvage yard, where it was hauled in by two laughing men with a tractor. They promised to show the police exactly which robot it was.

There, Sebastian said, dusting off his hands. If Doc Reg wants his robot back, he can buy it.

Dr. Regulus was a mad scientist who excavated and reverse-engineered Atlantean technology. This often meant that his devices and robots, barely understood by modern minds, ran amuck across Bygone Island, attacking everything in their path. Sebastian led the defense against these attacks. It happened so often that his team lived comfortably on the bounty checks. The government hired other heroes from time to time to try to take down Regulus, but he operated from a nearby island that he owned, and was very hard to uproot.

Tane accepted this strange situation as their normal way of life. Even the villagers no longer panicked at the sight of a new robot. They were a nuisance and a tourist attraction. As long as 'those hero kids' did their jobs, property damage was minimal and the entertainment value was high.

But a tropical storm ... that was a true threat.

Where do they keep the sandbags? Tane asked.

Sebastian nodded, as if approving of this question. City Hall has a ton sitting outside. I'll bring the shovels.

TANE CARRIED A RADIO on his belt as he worked the rest of the day. The station kept up a stream of updates on the storm, which was now twelve hours from hitting the Atlantean islands.

Bygone Village had already boarded up most of their windows, leaving plywood in short supply. Tane covered his windows with sheets of scrap metal from the junk yard. If not for his super strength, he never would have been able to lift them long enough to hammer them into place. On the plus side, his windows were now bulletproof as well as storm-proof.

He met Sebastian at City Hall. The island village had a very small business district, with City Hall next door to the hospital. Across the road was a library that shared space with a police and fire station. All the city officials were in shorts and t-shirts, filling sandbags.

Sebastian tossed Tane an empty sack. There you are. They're having us block up the beach-end of Main Street. Water comes up that way during storms.

Right. Tane had helped sandbag that area before. He'd seen lesser storms drive the surf up the beach, down the road, and into the town. A hurricane would flood the whole village.

As Tane heaved sandbags into a waiting pickup, Broden Fox arrived, a gangly white kid with blond hair and freckles. He was fifteen and already the mechanical genius of their team. He brought with him a squat machine on treads with a flat panel on the back.

Watch this! he proclaimed, dragging a sandbag to the machine. He laid it on the flat plate on top, then worked a remote control.

The robot's flat panel popped up with a bang, catapulting the sandbag into the air. It missed the truck and knocked Tane down.

Sorry! Broden exclaimed, rushing to help him out. My aim was off. Are you okay?

Fine, Tane grunted, rubbing his chest, which felt like he'd been kicked by a horse. That robot is really strong.

Yeah! Broden exclaimed, brightening. I tuned the hydraulics to lift five hundred pounds!

Tane hefted a sand bag in one hand. These weigh about fifty. Maybe dial it back?

No, it's perfect! Watch!

This time, Broden launched a bag neatly into the back of the truck, with Tane watching from a respectful distance.

Between the catapult and Tane, they loaded and unloaded the truck as fast as the others could fill bags. Another group of volunteers at the beach stacked the bags into a thick wall.

Every so often, the girls of the team, Eileen and Sylvie, cruised by in Eileen's hybrid-electric car. The back seat was stacked with cases of water, which they were distributing to villagers in the main square. They stopped and dropped off a case with the sand-bagging team.

You guys are working so hard, Eileen said, tucking a strand of bubblegum-pink hair behind one ear. It's important to stay hydrated.

Thanks, Tane said, draining most of a bottle in one long swig.

Thanks, Eileen! Sebastian exclaimed, accepting a bottle, himself. Can we get some snacks over here? I'm burning serious calories.

Eileen rolled her eyes. I'll see what I can do. She gestured at Sylvie in the car.

Sylvie emerged from the car with a bunch of bananas slung over one shoulder. They were yellow with the beginnings of brown spots—too ripe to sell, but perfect for eating.

The workers accepted the bananas without much enthusiasm—they were better than nothing, but everyone had been hoping for energy drinks and candy bars.

Sorry, it's all we had, Sylvie said. She wore her brunette hair in pigtails, and the rest of her outfit was military surplus camouflage. There's barely anything left in the store. I'm sure it was the aliens.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. This happens whenever we have a storm, Sylv. People clean out the groceries in case the boat can't get through for days.

Aliens eat, too! Sylvie exclaimed. She pointed at the black clouds lurking along the eastern horizon. Who do you think is bringing that storm here?

Broden pushed his goggles up on his forehead, making his blond hair stand straight up. I'm pretty sure hurricanes begin as sandstorms over the Sahara desert. It's nature. And science.

Tane ate two bananas and returned to stacking sandbags as Sylvie kept arguing. He'd never been sure if her power was making a boomerang do things that it couldn't normally do, or paranoia. She was highly skilled at both.

The sandbag wall crept across the road and slowly grew higher. They were racing the sun and storm now. The sea had a sullen, gray look, and the waves pounded the beach with unusual viciousness. The wind picked up in fitful gusts, tugging at hair and clothes. The sky was completely overcast, the shadow in the east darkening as the storm crawled toward them.

Tane stacked sandbags until they exhausted City Hall's supply. The rest of the people working on it had gone home to make last-minute inspections of their storm preparations, leaving only the burly Atlantean pushing through to the end.

Sebastian came running up the street, his blue hair blown sideways in the rising gale. Hey, Tane, dude, leave it. They're saying to check the trees around your house. Make sure no limbs will hit your roof of they blow down.

Trimmed them last month, Tane said, straightening and rubbing the small of his back. How're yours looking?

Sebastian kicked the sand. Um. Well, you know, I've been so busy fighting off Doc Reg's robots lately, I ...

You're practically living in a forest, Tane sighed. Fine, meet you over there. There's not a lot of time left. It'll be dark soon.

I know. Sebastian anxiously scanned the sky. They say it'll only be a category three when it hits.

Only a three, Tane groaned. Isn't that a hundred and thirty mile an hour wind?

And twelve-foot storm surge, Sebastian added. I hope those sandbags are good and heavy.

Tane gazed at the angry sea, black in the fading light. Let's check your trees.

A bit later, as the two sawed branches and hauled them into the nearby jungle, Tane said, What about everyone else? Are the girls and Broden going to be okay?

Broden's staying with me, Sebastian grunted, struggling with a branch that wouldn't quite break off the tree. Sylvie's staying at Eileen's. You know them—Eileen's been prepared for hurricanes since last year. And Sylvie has enough food stockpiled to feed the whole dang village.

Good, Tane said, a little of the anxiety in his heart abating. How about everyone else? The village looking good?

Sebastian recounted various preparations they had made over the past few days: retrofitted roofs, generators set up, small objects lashed down or taken indoors. Tane worked, racing the failing daylight, wishing he could have done more. As part of the team of local heroes, and nearly-pure blood Atlanteans at that, he felt that it was their responsibility to look out for people who lacked the powers he and his friends possessed. Whether it was storms or morally ambiguous scientists, he had to protect the weak. Period.

He didn't voice this to his brother, though. For one thing, Tane couldn't put it into words. For another, as leader of their hero team, Sebastian carried the same weight of responsibility. He was even more driven than Tane, always on guard, always ready to fight and protect.

But at last, the gathering darkness defeated them. Sebastian escorted Tane home, both of them bowed against the wind. Rain started and stopped in fitful squalls. Tane's little house on stilts looked exceptionally ugly with sheet metal over the windows.

Sebastian whistled. Man, why'd you use scrap?

All the lumber was gone, Tane said with a sheepish grin. Metal works, doesn't it?

I'll say it does. Sebastian slapped him on the back. Got what you need? Water? Food?

Tane nodded. Got everything this morning, after the spider fight.

Good. Sebastian bumped fists with him. Hunker down. See you on the flip side. He dashed away into the rising storm.

Tane entered his dark house, glad the lights still worked for now. He took a hot shower, maybe the last one he'd get for a while, and fell asleep listening to the radio.

THE WIND WHISTLED THROUGH the bungalow's shingles, awakening Tane from a restless sleep two days later. He lay there a moment, listening to the roar of wind and surf. It was quieter. The storm must have passed by at last. Had the sandbags held? Twelve foot storm surge was no joke.

Tane climbed out of bed and pulled on shorts and t-shirt. The lights didn't work—power was still out, of course. Fresh batteries kept the radio going, though. He listened to it as he ate a breakfast of granola bars and chicken jerky in his dark house. News reports said that the storm was moving on and had weakened a bit, now looking to clobber Florida. Many of the Atlantean island communities had sustained lots of damage. No mention of Bygone Island, though.

He'd have to see if the team's precautions had been enough.

Tane opened his door and stepped outside. Blue sky showed between ragged gray clouds. Warm, humid wind buffeted his face. The sea had receded far down the beach. During the storm, it flowed beneath his house, lapping at the stilts that supported it, threatening to climb to his doorstep.

Tane circled through the village, greeting other villagers who were also venturing outdoors. Several houses had taken roof damage, but everything was still standing. Many trees were down, taking power lines with them.

The sandbag wall was wet to the top, the bags sagging and tired-looking. A lake of seawater stood behind them where it had slopped over the wall, but it hadn't managed to flood more than a block.

Tane raised a fist at the sea. Take that, elements!

He checked his friends' houses. Everyone had made it, but Broden's workshop was missing half the roof. Tane went inside, rooted through Broden's drenched machinery and tools, found a tarp, and covered the hole. Poor Broden would be so upset. It was the least Tane could do.

He set off at a jog along the beach, breathing deeply and working his stiff muscles. Flotsam cluttered the white sand: piles of seaweed, dead fish, strange shells, driftwood, rusted bits of machinery from the ruins below the islands. The beachcombers would have a field day. Heck, Tane might come out here himself and poke around. New sand bars had changed the shape of the beach, and in some places, new bays had been scooped out where the beach had been eaten away.

Bygone Island's beach curved along the south and west sides, but the north and east ends were broken into jagged, rocky cliffs. Tane jogged an easy two miles until the beach ended in a towering limestone wall, eroded in caves underneath by the ocean's ceaseless pounding. The storm surge had abated enough to open two of the caves, their rock walls dripping sea water, crusted in barnacles, mussels and sea anemones. Piles of storm debris had been washed inside. Tane stooped and peered in.

A glint of green light caught his eye. What sort of light might survive sea water? He ducked into the low cavern and picked his way around a pile of sea trash. The green thing lay at the back, half buried in silty sand. He pawed the cold sand aside.

It was a green gem the size of his fist. An emerald. Tane picked it up and wiped the sand off its smooth facets. A glow radiated from its center, as if a spark of fire had been fossilized in the stone. Definitely Atlanticite, he muttered. His brother had found a cluster of the raw, magical crystal a few years ago and sold it to a broker. But none of it had been cut with this degree of skill. The ancient Atlanteans had used it in a lot of their tech.

He turned it over and over in his palms, rubbing away the wet sand. The spark in the center shone brighter and clearer.

Tane blinked.

Cold water lapped his ankles. He was no longer in the cave—he was out at the foot of the cliffs with the tide soaking his shoes. It was the dangerous area where the water could slam you into the rocks. How had he got here? The Atlanticite—or emerald—was in his outstretched hand, facing the rising sun.

Tane jammed the emerald into the pocket of his shorts. Atlanticite did weird things, and this one was stronger than usual. Had it teleported him? Or had it taken him over and made him walk out here?

He glanced at the sand. His own footprints led out of the cave, now partially washed away by the surf. Not a teleport, then. Mind control.

With a shudder, Tane jumped the rocks and headed back to his hut. He'd hide this emerald away. Nobody needed to know about a magic crystal that controlled minds, especially not someone like Dr. Regulus.

Chapter 2: Compulsion

As the sun rose, the villagers began clearing away the sandbags and sea rubbish from the storm. The supply freighter from the mainland finally arrived, and the shop had groceries again.

Eileen cleared the mess around her barbecue pit with a rake, her pink hair tied back with a ribbon. Her pretty little white house faced the ocean. While her tile roof and windows had survived the storm, the wind had tossed leaves, branches, and palm tree debris all over her lawn. Sylvie helped her collect the worst of it into garbage bags.

As Eileen dug out her fire pit, she remarked to Sylvie, Everyone needs some cheering up after the storm. I think a pit roast will be just the thing.

Sylvie heaved a bundle of driftwood into a pile near the fire. She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the surrounding neighborhood, as if checking for spies. The government colluded with the aliens to send the storm.

Eileen shook her head with a long-suffering sigh. No, Sylvie, we discussed this. Storms are natural.

I can prove it! Sylvie exclaimed. She lowered her voice, eyes darting back and forth. All the food in the store has gone up in price by twenty percent. I did the math. Who benefits from the increased tax rate? The government!

Eileen folded her arms. So, the government sent a storm so they could raise food prices?

Sylvie nodded violently.

Eileen sighed and resumed building the barbecue fire. It wouldn't have anything to do with the boat being late and the law of supply and demand?

Don't confuse me with economics! Sylvie snapped. I know I'm right.

And that was that. There was no arguing with Sylvie's paranoia.

Anybody there? a deep voice called from the front of the road.

Back here, Tane, Eileen called.

Tane's broad frame strode into view, dreadlocks barely swaying in the breeze. For a second, Eileen glimpsed worry on his face. He caught sight of her and grinned, erasing the concern. No storm damage?

Only a mess, Eileen replied. How about you?

Tane vaulted the fence with easy strength. Almost got flooded out, but I made it. Planning a party?

A barbecue, Eileen replied. You're all invited. Think of it as a celebration for surviving the storm.

Tane sat at Eileen's picnic table. I did survive on dried fruit and jerky the last few days. Barbecue sounds great.

Eileen flung a tablecloth over the table—yellow and white checks—and Tane leaned his elbows on it. He stared out to sea, as if his thoughts