After Atlantis: Chapter 4

Indal has an attack of conscience

Indal fell asleep worrying and he woke up worrying. It seemed that his brain refused to shut off when such a huge, overwhelming problem slept on the living room sofa. My gosh, what have I done?

All Indal had wanted to do was quietly disrupt the Cult of the Dawn from the inside. He had watched other friends, and even HeroTube teams, go after the Cult and tear down their waygates. But he had also seen a whole HeroTube team, Fisticuffs, convert to the Cult’s side. Now their entire channel was given over to propaganda, preaching Atlantis’s upcoming rise as a world power, the return of the Exiles, and what this meant for America and the world. The personality of every person on the team had been altered.

Indal had known one of the supers in real life, a fellow student working on his teaching credential. Once the Cult got to him, he quit school and did nothing but follow John Walter Watkins around.

Quietly stewing, Indal had shadowed the Cult’s rallies, and only struck pay dirt when Max guided him into the locked garage.

Indal hadn’t intended to get Max embroiled in something so big and dangerous. Watkins had been going to murder Max by lethal injection over that gauntlet. This told Indal that Watkins had well-placed connections, if he had access to deadly drugs. Watkins was also desperate if he was willing to resort to murder. A cult with a body count would attract too much unwelcome legal attention, potentially damaging the whole movement.

If Watkins was willing to risk the entire Cult of the Dawn to retrieve that gauntlet … what had they stumbled into, here? What did the gauntlet do, and what would Max become once it synchronized to him?

Indal had read the reports coming out of Atlantis. The Cult’s waygates had allowed the Atlantean Exiles to attack the Atlantean Isles twice in the last six months. Both times, the Atlantean Defense Force had taken hostages. They had been studying their armor and tech, and now were releasing reports on their findings. The armor was attuned to the individual biosigns of each soldier, making the armor well-nigh useless for anyone else. The best technological minds around the world had been brought in to reverse-engineer the magitech, but it would take years.

The box of armor in the garage of the Cult rally had been unattuned. A gift to Watkins from the Exiles, perhaps? And Max had screwed it up by attuning it to himself. No wonder Watkins was willing to execute him.

Indal mused about this as he showered and dressed. If Watkins couldn’t kill Max, the next logical step would be to force him to join the Cult of the Dawn. Max had a strong enough mind to resist the passive mindjacking that overcame other people. However, he wouldn’t stand up to a mental takeover, which Watkins was doubtlessly capable of.

The only logical response to this was that Indal would have to protect Max, himself. He groaned at this. What did he know about teenagers? Indal was barely recovered from being a teenager himself, most of which he had spent running and hiding from an assassin who wanted to steal his shard. His life hadn’t been normal and probably never would be. He had James pestering him to join the Islesworn, which Indal wouldn’t do because … well, because he had his reasons. The best thing Indal could do was operate alone, in secret.

If he took responsibility for Max, he wouldn’t be alone anymore. The assassin could target Max to get to Indal. The Cult would target Indal to get to Max. Good gosh, it was a train wreck, and he hadn’t even agreed to take care of the kid yet.

Indal glared at himself in the bathroom mirror. This was why a girlfriend was off the table, even though random women asked him out at least once a month. Indal already had so much trouble wrapped around his neck, he was strangling in it. And now he’d gone and endangered an innocent kid. Max was in the crosshairs of the Cult of the Dawn, and Indal was to blame. He couldn’t run from this one. If he did, Max would die or be enslaved, and Indal would have that on his conscience forever. Heck, Max might end up murdering James and Xironi, or they might kill Max, and that would be even worse.

Indal slumped onto his bed and held his head in his hands. He had been running from something his whole life. But now he had hit the end of the chain. His own actions had led to an outcome he hadn’t foreseen, and now he had to face it all.

He sighed and lifted his right hand. On the palm was a small white scar, barely visible. Beneath that scar hid a shard of magic: his second shard, kept secret because of its deadly power. It had been granted to Indal by an elemental, but Indal had utterly rejected its call, and the elemental had gone away.

But he had been using that forbidden magic more and more, lately. The elemental’s presence drew near once more. And now, Indal spoke to it.

“I’ve put my foot in it now, Ben.”

“Don’t you mean your hand?” it replied.

It materialized behind him on the bed, a black lizard the size of a cat. Ben could be any size or shape he wanted, but he preferred to appear as various types of lizards.

“Not funny,” said Indal, rubbing his palms together. “I know you’ve been watching this deal with Max. What do you think?”

“What do I think about what?” said Ben. He pushed himself up on his short forelegs, sitting on his haunches like a dog. He flicked his tongue at Indal. “What do I think about you using your magic? You know I approve.”

“I mean about Max,” said Indal. He turned and stroked the lizard’s arrow-shaped head. “Since I’m responsible for him being turned into a weapon.”

“You don’t know what he may become,” said Ben. “But yes, you owe him a lot more than fifty dollars. Which, may I remind you, is the only thing you’ve done for him so far.”

“Ugh, I know,” Indal groaned. “I just … don’t want to drag him into my terrible life. Do you know what Robin will do to him?”

“Maybe you should be asking what he might do to Robin,” Ben replied.

Indal opened his mouth and closed it again.

“You’re making a lot of assumptions,” Ben continued. “And you have very few facts. Maybe talk to Max. Learn his name, for one. You still don’t even know his surname.”

“But you do,” said Indal.

Ben fixed a glittering yellow eye on Indal and flicked his tongue.

Indal heaved a sigh and stood up. “Why don’t you show up as a creepy figure in a hood and cloak? The elemental of time should be more enigmatic than a dumb lizard.”

“Lizards are very wise and long-lived,” said Ben. “And they go by in a blink.”

Indal made an incoherent grumbling sound. “Anyway, get lost. I have to go face the kid now, and I don’t want to have to explain my amazing vanishing lizard pet.”

When he turned back to the bed, Ben had disappeared, leaving only a lizard-shaped indentation on the blanket.

Indal opened his door and peered out. It was eight in the morning, but the window blinds were closed and the apartment was still dark. There was no sound from James’s room–he’d probably gone to the island for the night to be with Xironi. Max was still sound asleep, one arm thrown above his head, the gauntlet resting on the blanket. The little camera in the back of the gauntlet swiveled and looked at Indal.

Indal stood there and gazed at them for a long moment. Despite Max’s shaggy blond hair and fair skin, his left ear was visible. And it was pointed. The kid had enough elf blood in him for the ears.

Indal went to the kitchen to make breakfast as quietly as possible. As he worked, he thought about those ears. Everyone in the world developed a shard of magic at age ten–except descendants of one nation in Brazil, the Landoreans. The Nevelves, as Atlantis called them. They had been bitter enemies with Atlantis, and their last war had sunk the islands. But Atlantis had successfully erased the magic from the entire Nevelf people while giving it to everyone else.

Max had been a shard runner: that is, a shardless person who carried stolen magic and passed it to a buyer. Shards were semi-corporeal and could not last long outside the body. Max must have submitted to the pain of having a shard inserted, and then endured the additional pain of having it extracted again via a removal tool. Multiple times. The kid was tough.

When Omniscient died, Jayesh had donated money to make sure that the runner kids were given shard implants of their own, if they wished. Max had one, but it was harming him, which Indal found bizarre. The kid had carried dozens of different shards, and yet this one reacted badly.

As Indal broke a couple of eggs into a frying pan, he heard movement from the living room. Max appeared in the kitchen, sleepy-eyed, but interested. “Can I have breakfast?”

“Sure,” said Indal. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you’re having,” said Max, sitting at the table.

As Indal fried a couple more eggs, Max fooled with his gauntlet. After a moment, he slid his arm out of it and left it sitting on the table. He rubbed and flexed his bare hand with relief.

“How’d you get it off?” Indal asked in astonishment.

“It just came off,” Max said, fixing Indal with his brilliant blue eyes. “It says the sync is complete.”

“I suppose that’s good,” said Indal uncertainly. “What happens now?”

Max folded his arms on the table and looked at the gauntlet’s camera. It stared back at him. Then suddenly it popped free and floated into the air. Indal froze, spatula in hand. The camera was the eye of a small metal sphere, about the size of a tennis ball. The sphere had the same glowing runes on it that the gauntlet did. It zipped around in midair, propelled by some unknown force. It flew around Max, then it buzzed to Indal and inspected him and the stove.

“Did you know it could do that?” Indal asked.

Max shook his head, watching the sphere with a half-grin. “Her name is Zero. She’s the brain of the suit, I think.”

“That is correct,” chirped the sphere. She had a cheerful girl’s voice. Indal instantly thought of Esca, the Atlantean robot of Xironi’s. Similar voice, similar ability to fly without visible thrusters. Like Esca, Zero must run on a powerful Atlanticite crystal.

Zero returned to Max and flew around and around him, finally halting in front of him. Max lifted a hand and cupped it beneath her. “I can feel the force you’re using to fly.”

“Of course you can,” said Zero. “My, you’re handsome, Max. I’m so glad you’re my operator and not Watkins.”

“So you were intended for Watkins,” said Indal with satisfaction. One of his theories was correct.

“Yes,” said Zero. “It would have been awful. Max is much nicer.” She flew forward and rubbed herself against Max’s cheek like an affectionate cat.

Max laughed. “Hey now, warn me first.” He closed his hand around the sphere and nuzzled it. “I didn’t know robots liked to cuddle.”

“I’m not a robot,” said Zero.

“What are you, then?”

“I’m me,” said Zero. “He shaped me for the armor, but I’m still me.”

“Who’s He?” said Max. “Watkins?”

“The great king,” said Zero. She rested in Max’s hand and seemed to try to hide there. “He seized me and shaped me as if I was nothing. I am Zero because we are all zero in the beginning. My operator is to give me a better name.”

“The Emperor of Atlantis?” said Indal in horror.

“Yes,” said Zero in a small voice.

When Max gave him a questioning look, Indal explained. “You know the Exiles who keep coming through those waygates the Cult are building? They have an Emperor back there, and he’s a psychic so powerful, he’s taken over all his own people.”

“Oh, him,” said Max. “Yeah, Watkins goes on about him all the time.” He turned back to playing with Zero.

Indal focused on frying eggs and toast with butter. In the back of his mind, the thoughts went on: that he and Max were in worse trouble by the minute. If Zero had been created or modified by the Emperor himself, what would happen when he discovered that she had bonded to the wrong person? Indal glanced at the windows and doors, imagining shadowy figures in magic-eating armor already lurking outside.

“Hey, could you drive me to work?” Max said, interrupting Indal’s worries. “I work at Bashas’, and my shift starts at two.”

“What if the Cult jumps you?” Indal said, tossing fried eggs on a couple of plates.

“At work?” Max raised both eyebrows. “At the busiest time of day? Security would take them out.”

Indal had to admit that this was probably true. He set their plates on the table. Max attacked his meal at once, making little whimpering sounds of joy as the hot, buttery food hit his taste buds. Zero floated beside him, watching with interest.

Indal ate his own breakfast, but it didn’t improve his outlook. His instinct was to run and hide, not go to work the day after being kidnapped. It made Max an easy target. All they had to do was catch him outside, or in the back rooms, and the kid was history.

As Indal wrestled with this, the portal opened in the apartment wall. James stepped in, a damp hoodie pulled over his head. It was raining on the Lighthouse island today. James closed the portal to keep rain from blowing in. Then he entered the kitchen, bringing with him a scent of wet grass and salt air.

“Did you see Jayesh?” Max asked.

“Naw,” said James, rummaging in the refrigerator. “Just Xironi.” He pulled out a package of microwave bacon and dumped it on a plate. “Hey Indal, I got a call from Dawnlight this morning. She wants us down at the police station at ten. Apparently there’s a suspect down there she wants us to meet.”

“Why do I have to go?” Indal complained. “You’re the one catching crooks right and left. I haven’t caught anybody.”

“She said to make sure you came,” said James. “Maybe they caught Robin.”

“If that’s so, why call you?” said Indal, sopping up egg yolk with his toast.

“Backup?” James grinned. He held his hands over the plate of bacon. A shimmer of heat rose between his hands, and the bacon began to sizzle. Every so often, James flipped the bacon over and applied more of his heat power. Indal had seen him do this many times, but Max was fascinated.

“Your power makes heat?” Max asked, craning his neck to see the bacon.

“Electromagnetic spectrum,” said James. “Low frequency is really easy, so I’m doing microwaves right now.”

“Not fire?” said Max.

James shook his head. “Fire is very limited, believe it or not. I can do so much more than burn things.”

“Like fry bacon,” said Indal. “Did you notice Max has a tiny robot familiar now, just like Xironi?”

“What?” James looked up, startled. “Hey, he does! Where’d you get it, Max?”

Max explained about Zero being part of the gauntlet. She popped back into the socket to show how easily she fit.

James was impressed. “That’s a new one. I haven’t seen any Exile armor like that, so you must have the Cadillac version. Nice to meet you, Zero.”

The sphere bobbed politely in midair. “The pleasure’s all mine, Mr. Chase.”

James offered bacon to Indal and Max, who accepted. As they crunched it, James said, “So, Max, feel like coming to the police station with us? Maybe file a report about your kidnapping?”

“Well …” Max looked uncertain. “I have a record. Will they help me?”

“It’s their job,” said Indal. “You’re not the only troubled youth the cops have dealt with. This might give them more evidence against the Cult of the Dawn.”

“I guess.” Max licked bacon grease off his fingers. “As long as I’m with you guys.”

“Great,” said James. “Showers and then we hit the road. I want to know who this suspect is.”