The Oracle of Atlantis: A Novel

by John Topping

Overview

The Oracle of Atlantis picks up where Legacy of Atlantis left off. Fresh from saving the world from Rusha, the maniacal Lemurian vampire, and Arthur DeMarco, the deranged multi-billionaire, Charlie Thomas and his friends retreat to his Uncle Merl’s castle in Scotland for a brief respite.

 

But rest is not in the cards for Charlie. Distressed by the destruction of the Atlantean base, Charlie fears his parents, having disappeared, are gone forever. With Uncle Merl held captive by the enigmatic super-Atlantean, Nimue, Charlie becomes the heir to Merl’s vast fortune. Despite unimaginable wealth and power, Charlie is at a loss as to what his next move should be and how he can help the people who matter most to him. But then the kidnapping of his girlfriend Rhea and the revelation that his parents are alive in ancient Greece charges Charlie with a new mission.

 

Charlie’s quest takes him and his friends into the past on an adventure reminiscent of the heroes of ancient legend where he must battle or outwit Lemurians and their hideous creations to save his parents, Rhea, and the world.

 

The Oracle of Atlantis is a thrilling novel that blends captivating characters, ancient civilizations, mythology, adventure, mystery, romance, and fantasy in a fast-paced read that you won’t be able to put down.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781611884074
Publisher:	The Story Plant
Publication date:	02/03/2026
Pages:	416
Product dimensions:	6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.00(d)

About the Author

A lawyer and entrepreneur, John Topping and his wife, Laura, are residents of Atlanta, Georgia. They have three adult children. An avid reader, John dabbled with writing while in high school at The Lawrenceville School and at the University of Virginia. He published an article on The Strategic Defense Initiative while at the University of Georgia School of Law. He began writing in his free time in the 1990s. Longstreet Press published his first novel, Runaway, a technothriller about global warming, in 2001.

John enjoys golf, fishing, tennis, and kayaking. He is a member of Northside United Methodist Church, Broadleaf Writers Association, and the Bonefish Tarpon Trust. One of nine children, John grew up with an appreciation of family and an avid interest in sports. John's father, the late Dan Topping, owned the New York Yankees for 22 years, winning 15 pennants and 10 World Series. His stepfather, the late Rankin Smith, owned the Atlanta Falcons.

Read an Excerpt

Charlie. I recognized my uncle’s thoughts.

Uncle Merl, that you? The stag slowly walked towards the woods.

In a way. The stag paused, tilted his head and looked at me. Its eyes looked like Uncle Merl’s, pale blue with small rays of gold around the pupil. The ring was a gift from the Lady Galadriel. It enabled me to store certain of my memories. I can access them and play them back by thinking about the memory.

So how are you talking to me?

One man’s magic ...

Yep. We wouldn’t understand. I thought a minute and then thought back about how Superman had spoken with his father via the crystal that stored his father’s thoughts.

Very appropriate analogy. Just don’t get any ideas that you’re Superman—you’re NOT.

I chuckled.

Now, since the ring’s accepted you, you can use it to gain access to restricted locations in the castle and elsewhere. It will automatically store your memories. Keep in mind that I’m returning. If I find out that you used it to cheat in school. The stag stopped walking, snorted and fire shot from its nose, burning the grass in front of it to a crisp.

I had no clue about the point he was trying to make.

The stag shook its head just like Uncle Merl. Ever hear the expression your ass is grass?

I looked down at the scorched grass and then back at the stag. Got it!

Good. Now AB’s waiting for you. Scoot. You’ve got much to do. The stag took a knee. I slid off its back but rather than touching the ground I drifted up and away as it returned to the barrel-shaped rock.

... you’ll learn that the ring can do many things.

I glanced over at AB and then down at the ring. How did it do that so fast? Seemed like I was in there for ten minutes at least.

AB lowered his pipe. So, you’ve bonded with the ring.

I nodded.

AB stood and walked over to the window. Rhea and Imee are about to get back. An Amazon truck had just pulled up in the courtyard as the girls rode in through the rear gate.

What’s in the Amazon truck? I looked down as Rhea and Imee entered the door to the mud room.

AB crossed his arms. You tell me.

I shook my head. He never quit with the lessons. I concentrated and pushed past an image of a rugby match. A large bouquet of purple, white and blue flowers sat on the table in the entrance hall. Flowers?

AB nodded. The flowers are a great lesson. If your lass is ever mad at you, get her flowers I’ll have Ms. Blair bring them up so you can sign the card.

But I didn’t do anything.

AB waved his finger back and forth. I used to say that to my first wife. Trust me—it doesn’t matter who’s wrong or who’s right. Get the flowers. Now, think harder.

An image of Rodin’s The Thinker appeared in my head. Uncle Merl loved the statue. The Thinker dissolved and the stone cliff that hid the entrance to AB’s home appeared in front of me. He wasn’t making this easy. I pushed, but the stone seemed as solid as when I’d first seen it. I’d need help. I focused on the Atlantean teaching device in my room. As I did, heat waves wiggled above the stone. It slowly became translucent. A white box with an Apple logo sat behind the wall. iPlants?

AB nodded. Very good.

That’s dope. iPlants were Apple’s next generation attempt to recapture part of the market that they’d lost to Arthur DeMarco’s Nano-Nano devices. They weren’t supposed to be out for another year at least. Like Nano-Nano’s, the Apple product used nanites injected subcutaneously into your temple to create their interface.

As AB walked out the door, Ms. Blair walked in with the flowers. She set them down on the table in front of me and gave AB a sidelong glance. “The flowers you ordered young Laird.”

“Thank you, Ms. Blair.” I walked over to the flowers. An envelope was taped to the vase. Ms. Blair turned to leave. “Oh, Ms. Blair?”

“Yes.” She turned.

“Do you know where a pen is?”

She nodded and pointed at an ornate writing table in the northwest corner of the library. “Middle drawer of the Louis XIV writing desk.”

I walked over and pulled open the drawer. A few black pens sat in a striated green stone tray at the front of the drawer, but my eyes were drawn to the dozen or so pens resting in green felt cradles in the left corner of the drawer. I spotted a silver capped pen enameled with waves of royal blue. I picked it up.

She nodded. “That’s the Jules Verne. One of your uncle’s favorites.”

“I’ll be careful, and I’ll put it back when I’m done.”

She gave me another glare not needing to say, ‘you’d better’, and then left.

I laid the notecard down on the desk, but had no clue what to write. Maybe I didn’t need a note. I could just sign it, but how? I really liked Rhea but wasn’t ready to use the “L” word. It might freak her out. Just thinking about it was freaking me out.

Did you get the iPlants yet? I thought to AB.

Hurry it up kiddo, we’re on the way up.

Stall.

Not a chance.

I looked around the room. I had nothing. The blank notecard taunted me. I closed my eyes and pictured my father giving flowers to my mother. I recalled the slightly lemony scent of the bright pink peonies that my mother loved. She’d smile as my father hummed an old tune to her. That was it. The tune. I quickly scribbled the lyrics on the notecard, sealed it, wrote Rhea on the front and then ran over and slipped it under the vase.

I turned from the vase of flowers as the door opened. My smile faded as Bob walked in.

“What am I, chopped liver?”

“Sorry, Bob, was expecting the girls. Any luck with the job search?”

Bob frowned and shook his head. “No luck. DeMarco’s throw a goat down every well that I know of. We might as well be zombies. Nobody’ll hire us.”

I walked over to Bob and patted him on the shoulder. “Sorry. My fault.”

He looked me in the eyes. “No. It wasn’t your fault. It was DeMarco. You cleaned up his mess, but he’ll never admit that.”

I nodded “I get it. Not that it’s any of my business, but what were you making before?”

Bob screwed up his brow, paused and then replied. “$90,000 a year.”

I whistled. “That’s solid.”

“Don’t I know. Doubt that my future as a school janitor will pay anywhere near that.”

“Would you consider working for me?”

Bob tilted his head. I didn’t need to read minds to know he was confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, turns out my uncle was very rich. I’d like to hire you and Imee to head up my security detail.”

Bob looked around. “No shit?”

I chuckled. “No shit. How about we start at $120,000 a year.”

Bob scratched his head. “For real. He was that rich?” He looked around. “Imee didn’t put you up to this?”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “Just look around. This castle’s the tip of an iceberg. The lawyer said something about billions.”

Bob smiled. “I guess ol’ lady luck worked out after all.”