Valley of Monsters: Island of Fog, #7

By Keith Robinson

What happens when a shapeshifter dragon is bitten by a werewolf?

 

Everyone in the village is looking at Hal with suspicion. Even his friends are wary. Not only did he blow up Bad Rock Gulch and create havoc across the land, now he has werewolf blood coursing through his veins. It's time to get away for a while – and he has just the mission!

 

Recalling a vision of a long-lost boy named Chase, and armed with clues as to his whereabouts, Hal sets off with a few friends on a journey to find him as well as the elusive shapeshifter twins Bo and Astrid, a couple of sphinxes who also vanished without a trace.

 

Finding them might just answer more questions than they could possibly imagine...

 

The seventh book in the series explores Miss Simone's childhood and brings home an important scientific breakthrough.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Unearthly Tales
• Release date: Nov 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781497715080

Keith Robinson

Keith Robinson is a writer of fantasy fiction for middle-grade readers and young adults. His ISLAND OF FOG series has received extremely positive feedback from readers of all ages including Piers Anthony (best-selling author of the Magic of Xanth series) and Writer's Digest. Visit UnearthlyTales.com for more.

Book preview

Valley of Monsters

Island of Fog 7

© 2013 Keith Robinson

Published by Unearthly Tales

on November 30, 2013

Cover by Keith Robinson

No part of this book may be reproduced without permission from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

Visit the author's website:

unearthlytales.com

Contents

Meet the Shapeshifters

Previously . . .

1. Werewolf

2. Memory Loss

3. A Meeting with Lucas

4. Looking for Chase

5. The Journey South

6. Happy Valley Ridge

7. The Morning After

8. Chase Begins His Story

9. Through the Hole

10. On the Trail

11. Lunch by the River

12. The Cottage in the Woods

13. Full Moon

14. The Village of Callister

15. Cora Talks

16. A Rock with a Face

17. The Oracle

18. Answers

19. A Monster is Born

20. The Talent Fades

21. The Twins Say Farewell

22. The Inner Wolf

23. Out of Body

24. The Shapeshifter Program

The ISLAND OF FOG series

Author’s Website

Meet the Shapeshifters

In this story there are nine twelve-year-old children, each able to transform into a creature of myth and legend . . .

Hal Franklin (dragon) – After a frightening first transformation, Hal now flies and breathes fire like other dragons. He can even belch flames while in human form, a talent he finds useful.

Robbie Strickland (ogre) – At three times his normal height, and with long, powerful arms, Robbie is a mass of shaggy hair and muscle.

Abigail Porter (faerie) – She regularly sprouts insect-like wings and can shrink to the size of a real faerie, a mere six inches tall. Abigail once owned a fascinating glass ball, a gift from her faerie kinfolk.

Dewey Morgan (centaur) – Although impressive in his half-equine form, this small, shy boy is ashamed of his roots after discovering what some of the centaurs had done to humankind many years ago.

Lauren Hunter (harpy) – With enormous owl-like wings, yellow eyes, and powerful talons for feet, this beautiful white-feathered human-creature soars and swoops like a bird of prey.

Fenton Bridges (rare lizard monster) – Able to spit an endless stream of water that turns to glue, Fenton is black and reptilian with an impossibly long tail. Tentatively dubbed an ‘ouroboros’ by Miss Simone.

Darcy O’Tanner (dryad) – As a wood nymph, she has the ability to blend into the background like a chameleon, allowing her to sneak around unseen.

Emily Stanton (naga) – Part human, part serpent, the naga come in three different forms, only two of which Emily has explored.

Thomas Patten (manticore) – The redheaded boy spent six years in the form of a vicious, red-furred, blue-eyed lion creature with a scorpion’s tail. Now he’s struggling to adjust to human life.

There’s also an older generation of shapeshifters that include Miss Simone the mermaid, Molly the gorgon, Orson the pegasus, Felipe the dragon, and others—a total of ten who made it through the Shapeshifter Program twenty-five years ago in Happy Valley Ridge.

But there are another two who went missing. Bo and Astrid Hammacher would have been sphinxes, only they disappeared one night, never to be seen again. The blame for their disappearance lies squarely on a fourteen-year-old boy named Chase, recently woken after being calcified by Molly the gorgon . . .

Previously . . .

The magnificent, thousand-year-old phoenix burst into flames. The multicolored feathers of its fifteen-foot wingspan, now ablaze with brilliant blue fire, quickly blackened as the nest caught alight and the cave filled with smoke. Yet no heat emanated from the inferno. This was an extraordinarily rare event that every phoenix subjected themselves to from time to time. Within minutes the creature was reborn, more vibrant and alive than it had been in a long time.

The rebirth ‘cleansed’ magic from the land, leaving many of its denizens drained and confused. The reticent dryads of the forests were no longer able to blend into their surroundings. Faeries and will-o’-wisps lost their glow. Dragons, griffins and other large flying creatures, whose scientifically implausible flight relied on the assistance of magic, were grounded. Mermaids found that their spell of enchantment had withered, and their distant lake-dwelling cousins, the miengu, turned into hideous hags. Within the phoenix’s blast zone, any fantastic creature born of this world faced a miserable, mediocre existence.

But not forever. Despite the cleansing, magic glimmered again. People died every day, and their collective life force returned to the ground in the form of radiant energy, or ‘sparkle’ as some liked to call it. It would take time for the land to fully replenish its energy, but there were already signs this was beginning to happen.

Faeries recovered the fastest. They had an uncanny knack of zeroing in on newly formed ‘hotspots,’ and it was there they set up their glades. In contrast, dragons such as those in the Labyrinth of Fire required quite a bit more magic to get their massive weight off the ground.

The blast zone had its limits, though. Those near its edges were drawn to the unaffected areas beyond where they, too, sought hotspots with which to absorb magic—to recharge.

Slowly, normality was restored.

Then along came Hal Franklin and his friends. Feeling utterly useless as shapeshifters who couldn’t shift, they traveled east to the famous Chamber of Ghosts, known for its high concentration of sparkle and the important mining operation in the surrounding hills. All the young shapeshifters—and some of the older ones—spent a couple of days loading their wagon with geo-rocks and replenishing their magic.

Unfortunately for Hal, an earthquake struck. The roof caved in, trapping him in a rising flood of boiling water that bubbled up from the core. To avoid a painful death, he begged Molly the gorgon to calcify him. They’d already established that a phoenix rebirth could undo gorgon magic; perhaps Blair, their own resident shapeshifter phoenix, could wake him when the roof fall was excavated and he was pulled to safety.

Hal experienced a ‘world of darkness’ during his calcification, a void where the shadowy spirits of dead people were drawn to a great white light guarded by a ‘Gatekeeper’—a tall, female, alien-like creature. She converted the spirits to energy, and Hal figured out that this energy became sparkle in the real world. This was the cycle of life.

The Gatekeeper refused to accept him as one of the dead. Yet she appeared interested in him, too. She showed him things—visions of a world before magic, a world where people fought endless bloody battles and warred throughout history. She created a parallel Earth populated not only with humans but with other intelligent creatures to keep mankind in check. Her experiment worked, and Miss Simone’s land of Elsewhere was born.

In the creepy blackness, Hal met Chase. Not only had both boys been calcified, it turned out they were victims of the very same gorgon. Chase had gone to school with Molly, Miss Simone, Blair, and all the others during their own Shapeshifter Program.

Before he could question Chase further, Hal woke. He was alive again, back in the real world, standing in the middle of a plain with Blair. The phoenix’s rebirth had worked, and the gorgon’s magic had been nullified.

Unbelievably, two weeks had passed. Molly and Miss Simone confirmed that Chase was a real person, someone they had known when they were young. In fact, he was the crucial missing link in the disappearance of twins Bo and Astrid, two shapeshifter classmates who were still missing to this day. Hal decided that if Chase was real, the Gatekeeper might be real, too.

He had two missions. The first was simple: to find Chase’s calcified body and ask Blair to perform the same phoenix rebirth to bring him back.

The second was to follow the directions of the Gatekeeper and unite the twin worlds, to bring the two Earths together. To do so, he needed to crack open dozens of geo-rocks and create as many portals as possible.

First, he needed to recharge again. Although a wagonload of energized geo-rocks were on their way back to Carter, Blacknail the goblin forbade him to drain much of their power. Hal snuck away in the moonlight, heading back to the Chamber of Ghosts—and fell foul of an attacking lycan. The maniacal wolfish creature bit him and tore him open, and it was thanks to Abigail that he survived the night.

Back home, nobody backed him up on his plan to unite the worlds. Miss Simone flatly refused, and Abigail’s betrayal was meant to save him from making ‘a huge mistake’—but he persevered and found another way. He returned to the Chamber of Ghosts and blew it up with dynamite. This release of tremendous energy set off a chain reaction across the land that caused hotspots and geo-rocks to explode and coalesce into portals—more than he ever could have imagined possible. His mission was a success. But at what cost?

Safely stored in a rose garden with other poor gorgon victims, Chase’s life was restored. Miss Simone promised to question him the next morning to find out what he’d done with the missing Hammacher twins all those years ago. However, Chase had his own agenda and escaped.

****

It’s now a month later.

Hal and his friends have returned to school. Miss Simone is busy dealing with the influx of people from what is now being called Old Earth. This place of death has been virus-stricken for the last thirteen years, most of its population long gone and its survivors left clinging to life in underground bunkers or hermetically sealed camps. The recent and explosive creation of mysterious pulsing black holes everywhere has changed everything.

Now those survivors are emerging.

Donning biochemical suits, they are leaving Old Earth behind and crossing over into a magical haven, a place of wonder and astonishment, filled with creatures of myth and legend. They consider New Earth their home now, and Miss Simone is having to deal with the fallout, trying to mediate between politicians, soldiers, village councils, and all the various disgruntled magical inhabitants who believe their forests and mountains are being invaded.

In an effort to make himself scarce, Hal and his friends are about to set off on a simple quest—to find Chase and bring him home.

Hal, of course, is about to realize he has other things to worry about.

Chapter 1

Werewolf

Hal Franklin spotted his friends through the trees. Robbie Strickland was sitting on a fallen tree trunk alongside Lauren Hunter, the two holding hands and talking. Behind them, a pulsing, smoking black hole hung in the air.

There he is, Hal said, pointing.

Right on top of my faerie patch! Abigail Porter exclaimed.

The eerie portal surprised Hal. What was one doing out here?

Abigail sucked in a breath. The faerie magic—this was a hotspot for them—it must have exploded along with the geo-rocks!

Robbie jumped to his feet as Hal and Abigail approached. There you are! he exclaimed. What took you so long? You were supposed to be here hours ago.

Well, we were busy, Hal said, spreading his hands.

Anyway, Abigail said mischievously, I’m pretty sure you two didn’t mind waiting. Together. In private.

Don’t know what you mean, Robbie muttered, his face reddening. He let go of Lauren’s hand and shuffled his feet.

Abigail’s smile faded. She looked concerned again. I hope my faerie friends are okay, she said. If this patch had exploded early morning when they were all sleeping off their party, they would have been killed. Then she pursed her lips and began to nod. But it happened late at night, so most likely they were flitting around everywhere. I’m sure they’re all fine.

So this was a faerie patch? Lauren asked. I guess that explains where this hole came from. She smiled. Show them, Robbie.

Intrigued, Hal stepped closer. Show us what?

Robbie pointed to a rope looped around the tree trunk. Surprise for you.

The rope ran into the pulsing hole and disappeared into blackness. Whatever Robbie had tied to the trunk was on the other side—most likely dangling in the ocean. Hal sighed and approached. Is it safe?

Yeah. Just hang onto the rope and climb down.

So Hal eased himself backward into the hole. The ground vanished behind him, and his legs dangled precariously in midair. Cold wind whistled around his ankles. Gripping the rope, he lowered himself through the blackness.

He ended up hanging over the ocean. Here, the geographical differences between the two worlds were obvious. In the last few weeks, military-supplied aerial photos and maps had become a source of great interest to all, and it was clear that the coastlines of Old Earth and New Earth—as they were called these days—were nothing alike.

Cliffs loomed on the western horizon along with the distant buildings of a city where he’d run into scrags not so long ago. There was a clear sunset and a low, full moon.

Right below him, on the end of the rope, a raft bobbed neatly on the water. He gasped and took it all in at once—two large, hefty doors secured to crossbeams, sturdy plastic drums all around . . . It was far superior to the raft he and Robbie had built one Saturday afternoon a while back.

Hoisting himself back up through the hole, he grinned at his friends. "That thing is awesome!"

What thing? Abigail asked.

A raft. A brilliant one. Big enough for four. Hal looked meaningfully at Robbie and Lauren. The four of us, right?

They nodded in unison, looking pleased with themselves. Lauren and I built it together, Robbie said proudly. Took a week. It was our secret project. We could have gone for a sail if you’d gotten here earlier. Too late now, though. The moon’s already out.

Hal glanced between the trees, making out the moon low in the sunset sky as it had been over the ocean. It was strange how the sun and moon appeared to be identical in both worlds. They never faltered from their positions no matter what the terrain looked like below. Were there twin moons and suns? And if so, was there also a twin universe as well? Or was it only Earth that was divided?

The moon tonight was nearly full. Hal scratched absently at his left forearm, realizing it had been a full lunar month since his werewolf attack.

He shuddered, recalling how close he’d come to death that night. He’d self-healed, of course. Shapeshifters could do that. Miss Simone and Dr. Kessler had been concerned at first, but his injury had faded enough that any concerns of werewolf infection had been dismissed. He hadn’t given it a thought since. Life had returned to some form of normality, and now here were Robbie and Lauren offering raft trips on the ocean. It was a shame the daylight had fled.

Maybe tomorrow, though? Robbie said.

With a sigh, Hal shared a glance with Abigail before looking sheepishly at Robbie and Lauren. Actually, Miss Simone is sending me on a mission.

Abigail nodded. And I’m going, too.

"What mission? Robbie said, looking indignant. How come I don’t know about this?"

Because I just found out earlier. I’m going after Chase.

Robbie and Lauren were silent.

He was spotted west of here, Abigail said. Word just came back. So Miss Simone wants Hal to go find him and bring him home. She wants to know what happened to the sphinx twins, and Chase is the only one who knows.

"Can we go?" Robbie asked, gesturing to Lauren and himself.

As Abigail answered him, saying she didn’t see why not but that Robbie would need to clear it with his parents, Hal looked away into the woods. He felt strange. Something was stirring in him. Was the memory of the werewolf attack causing him to feel nauseous, or was the nausea bringing up the memory? Either way, something was wrong. He blinked rapidly as dizziness overcame him. His friends went on talking, apparently unaware that he was beginning to sway.

His arm itched again. He rubbed and scratched at it through his sweater, wondering if he’d been bitten by some kind of winter bug.

Hal? Lauren said. Are you okay? You’ve gone pale.

Immediately Abigail was clinging to him, holding him steady while she peered into his face. What’s wrong?

Not sure, Hal muttered. I just feel . . . weird.

Why are you scratching? Robbie asked.

Realizing that he was indeed clawing at his forearm again, Hal stopped and held up his hand. His mouth dropped open, and Abigail gasped and backed away.

He had been bitten, but not by a bug.

With shaking fingers, he pushed up the sleeve of his sweater. Now it was Robbie and Lauren who gasped, and Hal began to mumble under his breath.

Bitten by a werewolf. The wound on his stomach hadn’t healed quite as well as he’d assumed. With his heart hammering in his chest, Hal had the strangest feeling that he needed to set off running through the woods. He needed to hunt. His blood surged through his body and a craving hunger overcame him.

What now? he moaned.

His entire left forearm, and part of his hand, was covered in coarse, dark-brown hair. As he stared, his fingers slowly began to stretch.

Aghast, Hal staggered and almost fell. This can’t be happening.

His friends were white-faced. Abigail reached for him, then stepped back, then reached for him again, her fingers twitching indecisively. "Hal—what’s going on? Why do you have . . . hair? Dragons don’t have hair!"

Pain lanced through Hal’s forearm. Wincing, he gripped his hairy wrist and watched in horror as his fingers and hand continued to stretch. Claws sprouted, and it felt like someone had just jabbed him with needles. Ow! he yelled.

The feeling that this had all happened before—that he had scratched at an itch and begun to change into a monster—was offset by one huge difference: this time it hurt. There was no blood, just a stinging pain in the tips of his fingers and a crippling ache in his forearm. And it was getting worse.

He fell to his knees as his entire arm began to spasm. It felt like his shoulder was being wrenched out of its socket, the bones stretched. His sweater sleeve masked what was happening, but he could see it bulging as more of that thick, coarse hair grew and his biceps and triceps expanded with a fresh wave of pain. Yelling in panic, he tried to back away from it, which was of course impossible. What he was seeing was utterly foreign to him. It wasn’t his arm.

Frozen like statues, his friends stood with their mouths hanging open. Get help! he shouted at them. But as Robbie turned to run, Hal changed his mind. No, wait! I can’t—it’s taking me over! You have to . . . to . . .

What are you talking about? Robbie demanded. Should I go get help or what?

Hal used his good hand—his normal hand—to claw at his belly, where a sickly feeling was spreading outward. It wasn’t nausea. It was poison. From the werewolf’s bite. It was inside him, working him over, getting into his bloodstream and transforming him into something monstrous.

More monstrous than a dragon? his mind screamed.

Pain shot through him again, this time across his back. His other shoulder popped, and he doubled up, unable even to gasp. His good arm started to swell and stretch, and at the same time he felt a terrible sensation in his throat as if his larynx were being rearranged—which it probably was. When he next let out a gasp, it came out deeper, a voice quite unlike his own.

His first dragon transformation had been painless. Terrifying, but painless. He’d never experienced pain while shifting except for that time in the confines of a collapsed tunnel when he’d tried to change to his massive dragon form and nearly crushed himself in the process.

It hurts! he wailed, knowing he was crying like a baby but not caring. Abigail reached for him again, but he barely felt her hands on his arm. She was crying, too, saying something over and over though he couldn’t focus long enough to decipher her words.

She gestured, and Robbie took off running. Her voice was firmer now, but Hal still couldn’t hear her through his pain. He rolled onto his side and into a fetal position, but that didn’t help, so he tried lying on his back, but that didn’t help either. He thrashed and ended up on his stomach just as his spine felt like a giant had taken hold of each end and started stretching it.

He started to lose consciousness after that. He dimly heard Abigail’s voice in his ear though the exact words still eluded him. The woods were spinning, nothing made sense anymore, and through the agony he started to think about food.

Food.

The hunger startled him. He hadn’t been hungry at all before. He’d eaten well at dinnertime. Yet now he was ravenous.

Get . . . away . . . he groaned in a voice that wasn’t his. He doubted his words were even recognizable. He struggled to turn over, certain that his bones had been pulverized and his flesh shredded. Instead, powerful arms and a bulging chest strained against his sweater, tearing it in places. The fabric was constricting him, and he raked his claws across it, easily slicing it open to reveal his smart clothes beneath.

In a sudden screaming frenzy, he ripped the sweater off and threw the bits aside, then started on the silky green material of his shirt. It sliced open just as easily but then sealed itself again, all the while expanding to accommodate his growing chest and shoulders.

Either the pain was subsiding or his nerve endings were fried. Or he was simply numb with shock. He had a moment of clarity—a brief fifteen seconds somewhere between human in agony and crazy werewolf—just enough time to get a few words out to Abigail and Lauren, who had stumbled well out of range.

Throw me through the hole, he snarled, shocked at how wet and grisly his voice sounded. He tore at his restrictive outer pants, shredding them open to reveal the enchanted pair beneath. His shoes popped off on their own, leaving only the flexible pads magically adhered to the soles of his feet. I need to hunt, he told the girls. Throw me . . . through the hole into the sea. I can’t . . . hurt anyone . . . there.

You’ll drown! Abigail protested, flinging her hands about in panic.

Do it! Hal yelled. I can . . . use the raft . . .

But it was too late, and even as Abigail took an uncertain step toward him, Hal warded her away. Go! Fly!

Everything was a blur after that. Without his ordinary clothes holding him back, his body lurched into a final, dramatic transformation that made his friends scream. His hands—paws?—were huge, his nearly bare feet elongated and ready to spring him into the air. He felt immensely powerful, a coiled spring, nothing but muscle and a craving hunger.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two figures shooting upward, Abigail buzzing like a giant bug and Lauren flapping her huge, white-feathered wings.

The woods called to him, and he took off, mustering every ounce of his pent-up energy into a gigantic leap. When his feet and hands touched down, they were already moving, springing him along with astonishing ease. The trees sailed past, a dizzying blur, but he never faltered or stumbled.

He was right where he belonged: in the woods during a full moon.

Chapter 2

Memory Loss

Hal woke around dawn, lying on his back and staring up through the trees, shivering. And no wonder—it was the dead of winter and he had on nothing but light, silky smart clothes. He’d probably be in serious trouble if the enchanted clothes didn’t put out a warmth of their own.

Then again, his inner dragon had a way of saving him from hypothermia. When he really needed to warm himself up, he could channel some of his fire instead of belching it out. He figured it was in some kind of liquid form deep within his chest until it reacted with the air, after which—

He bolted upright as his memory clicked into place. Werewolf!

A quick check told him he was no longer in that terrifying form. He was back to his normal self, magical smart shoes still stuck to the bottoms of his feet and his bare toes incredibly dirty. His silky pants were caked in mud, as were his hands. But there was something mixed in with the grime on his fingers. Something dark and distinctly red.

A moan escaped him. It was blood. And he very much doubted it was his own. Abigail! he yelled, clambering to his feet. Lauren! Robbie!

His voice was muffled by the hazy white mist that permeated the woods. All was silent, and he heard no answering calls.

Where was he? He recognized nothing. How far had he scampered? Where had the blood come from?

ABIGAIL!

He stood there trembling, glancing around, listening intently. Nothing. So either he was miles away from his friends, or he’d done something to them.

Get a grip, he muttered.

He forced himself to take long, deep breaths as he remembered both Abigail and Lauren shooting off into the sky as he’d been transforming. He’d ignored them and run off. Yes, and he’d kept running, probably all night. Or at least until he’d come across some kind of prey, perhaps a groundhog or a deer.

Or a random person hiking in the woods.

At that time of the night? he argued with himself. Shaking his head, he turned in a circle, wondering which way led home. There was no way to tell. But then he clicked his tongue as an obvious solution came to him. Come on, Hal, get with the program.

He scanned the treetops above as he stomped through the undergrowth. When he found a sizable gap in the wintry canopy, he stood at its center and stared up at the clear sky. This was as good a spot as any to launch.

The transformation into his dragon form came easily. At least his werewolf problem hadn’t interfered with his genetic makeup and messed that up. And as he stood there on four clumsy reptilian feet, swinging his club-ended tail about and stretching his wings, he wondered what would have happened if he had thought to change into this form while the werewolf thing was going on. Would it have set him right? Would it have halted the unwanted metamorphosis and saved him a lot of pain? Or was the werewolf side of him stronger?

There was no point conjecturing, although it was worth experimenting next time it happened—which might be tonight.

Hal grimaced. He needed help.

Springing into the air, he beat his wings hard and started to climb. As he rose up past the trees, he studied his surroundings. At first he was none the wiser; everything was a total blank to him. But then, looking south, he made out the village of Carter sprawling in the open between this forest and another, seemingly bridging the gap between them.

Hal could barely contain