NOTE: Tempest (Garth) is a registered trademark of DC Comics and is used without permission. The concept and the other characters are mine. When I posted an Aquaman story here last year (The Tiger's Daughter - more is coming soon), I wrote that I didn't like magic in superhero stories. And while that's still essentially true, some of my favorite stories have supernatural elements. Garth is a great character and here he is forced to rely on his strength and intellect, since he's been stripped of his sorcery and "bathroom sink" super powers (controlling the flow of water - left hand makes it hot, right hand makes it cold). I hope you enjoy it.
THE GHOST AND THE TEMPEST
By S. Nolan
It lunged at him. Garth dodged to one side then dove straight down to the sea floor. He waited there motionless as the creature turned around and searched the water for him. Taking effort to move with stealth, Garth came back up behind it, confident that the 60-foot monster had not seen him. Despite its size, it was apparent that this beast was a relatively simple animal, like a dinosaur that had somehow found itself in the twenty first century. Garth decided that he would not destroy it, but send it back to a prehistoric time where it could find its place among similar small-brained behemoths.
He raised his arms and concentrated on the spell that would transport the monster across time, when the beast sudden spun around and faced him. Its mouth closed, hiding the long, sharp teeth that had nearly killed a young man just outside of Atlantis. A soft glow in the creature's eyes was the only warning Garth had and he only had a moment to get the sense of it. It was some sort of magic. In an instant, the creatures eyes grew brighter and Garth's world went dark.
He felt an intense pressure across his entire body, then the darkness around him faded to a dull green and Garth realized he was in colder, darker water than he had been. He looked around trying to figure out what had happened. The creature was gone and Garth realized he was no longer deep in the tropical Atlantic. This was cool murky water of a more Northern latitude and the water was not more than a hundred feet deep.
The water reverberated with the thrumming of diesel engines. Garth raised his arm to summon a pillar of water to carry him to the surface, but nothing happened. He frowned and tried again. After a few more gestures, it dawned on him that he had none of the powers the old man had revealed to him - no control over water or its temperature, no sorcery. His magic was gone.
His physical abilities were still intact though and only Arthur could outrun him in the water. He rushed toward the surface in the direction of the noise. A moment later, he head popped above the surface and he found himself staring at 60 foot blue and white vessel slowly cutting through small rolling swells. The sky above was gray and threatened rain. On the side of the boat were the words Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution. He stared for a moment and muttered the words to himself.
He heard commotion on the boat and looked up to see a pair of young men, standing on deck and pointing down at him. The tone of the engines dropped and the boat slowed down.
"Coming around," a man's voice said.
Garth didn't move.
"Hold on, were coming," one of the young men shouted as he looked down at Garth.
As the boat came closer, the men moved up to the front of the boat and one tossed a floatation device to him, a small surfboard-shaped thing attached to a rope.
"Are you ok?" one shouted.
Garth nodded and waved. The boat settled down thirty feet from him. The men gestured for him to approach.
"If you come around back, you can climb up onto the dive platform," a young man with a goatee said.
Garth smirked and dropped beneath the surface for a moment, then sprang up from the water and onto the front deck of the boat. Two young men and an older one stepped back, a look of shock on their faces.
"What the hell..." the older man muttered.
He was a little less than six feet tall with long graying hair, a big belly and the sort of reddish purple face often seen on alcoholics.
"There was a creature," Garth said in a strained voice. "A sixty-foot prehistoric thing, big and gray with big teeth and flippers for limbs. It tried to attack me then next thing I knew I was here. Have you seen anything?"
The men looked at each other and frowned.
"You're five miles from shore and there are no boats around," one said. "Kinda cold this time of year to be in the water, even with a wet suit. We need to get you checked out."
Garth looked down at his red and black costume, then back at the men.
"I'm ok. I'm just not sure exactly where I am or how I got here," Garth said.
"We're a few miles out from the Woods Hole institute. Not too far from Falmouth."
Garth frowned and said, "Massachusetts?"
The older man took Garth by the arm and led him through a door into a small room dominated by a rectangular table bolted to the floor. Books and charts covered the table along with a few electronic gadgets and a bag of tortilla chips.
"Justice League monitoring satellite spotted the thing near Atlantis. By the time I got there, it had already attacked a young man," Garth said.
The other two had followed the older man into the cabin. They exchanged a glance as Garth spoke.
The older man place a hand on Garth's forehead and said, "If you've been in the water a while, you might have hypothermia. Your mind can play tricks on you."
"I'm ok, the cold doesn't bother me," Garth said. "I'm a water-breather."
A stillness settled over the room and everyone stared at Garth. Two young women peered in through the open doorway.
Finally the older man shook his head and said, "You're not really making sense...Justice League?...Atlantis?..."
"We have some dry clothes that might fit you," a young man said. "Some blankets if you're cold."
"We'll get you back to the dock within the hour," another said. "We'll have an ambulance waiting there for you."
Garth saw a small mirror on the wall near him. He turned to it and bent down. Just as he had suspected, the marks left by the old man were gone. His face was as it had been before the mystical training.
"Am I on another Earth?" he said quietly.
The young man with the goatee and reddish hair came up behind him and draped a blanket over his shoulders. He said softly, "There's just one earth, my friend, and this is it."
Garth stepped back from the small crowd that had gathered in the cabin. They all stared at him with apparent apprehension.
"What's your name?" Garth asked the young man with the goatee.
He froze for a moment and turned toward the others. They looked at him and one shrugged.
"Brian," he said. "Brian Whiteside."
Garth nodded and stepped through the doorway out onto into the open stern area. The others gathered in the doorway.
"I'll be back," Garth said. "Thank you for your hospitality, but I need some time to figure out what happened."
The older man pushed through the half-dozen others who stood in and around the doorway.
"You can't go," the older man said. "It's suicide, let us help you."
Garth leapt over the railing and soared through the air a moment before splashing into the sea.