Prison of Despair: Island of Fog, #8

By Keith Robinson

The shapeshifters battle an old enemy in the first of an epic two-part story!

 

Everything is quiet in the village. Perhaps too quiet.

 

When nighttime intruders take dozens of hostages, Hal and his friends find themselves up against a familiar enemy: the dreaded scrags of Old Earth.

 

The constant threat of executions renders the shapeshifters powerless to do anything to help. Instead, they're forced to cooperate and spend time in the dreaded Prison of Despair, a dismal place in the woods with an insidious curse.

 

Hal and his resourceful shapeshifter friends have to find ways to escape the prison undetected. But in doing so, they discover the true reason the scrags have walked into the village... and it looks like the real trouble is just getting started.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Unearthly Tales
• Release date: Jul 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781501414626

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

Prison of Despair

Island of Fog 8

© 2014 Keith Robinson

Published by Unearthly Tales

on July 20, 2014

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

1. Intruders

2. Kidnappings

3. Searching for Boats

4. The Village Council

5. Scrambling

6. Queen Bee

7. Prison of Despair

8. Demands

9. Incarcerated

10. An Impossibly Long Day

11. A Secret Trip

12. Dilemma

13. The Chosen One

14. Standoff in the Woods

15. Living Vines

16. The Stinging

17. Escape

18. Rocs

19. Tailing the Scrags

20. The Creature Behind the Prison

21. Rescue Plans

22. The Town of Brodon

23. Castle on the Cliff

24. Retreat

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) – Thanks to a werewolf bite, Hal had to be cleansed of his shapeshifter blood, rendering him ordinary. But the new and improved Shapeshifter Program allowed him to become a much bigger, adult dragon.

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 can sprout insect-like wings and shrink to six inches tall. She once owned a magical glass ball, a gift from her faerie kinfolk, but she left it in a cave by the sea after a run-in with the miengu.

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 a stream of water that turns to glue, Fenton is black and reptilian with an impossibly long tail. Though tentatively dubbed an ‘ouroboros,’ he’s still compared to a gargoyle.

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.

Other shapeshifters include Miss Simone, the resident mermaid and esteemed leader of the village; Molly the gorgon; Blair the phoenix; Bo and Astrid the sphinxes (although Bo refuses to utilize his shapeshifting talent); Orson the pegasus; and Jolie the jengu, who is literally half her former self.

Winter has passed, spring is around the corner, and the young shapeshifters will soon be turning thirteen—that is, if they make it through the week.

Chapter 1

Intruders

Hal Franklin woke and lay there in the darkness of his room. He could have sworn he’d heard a man laugh but couldn’t fathom why his dad would be up and about at this hour on a Sunday morning. He listened, barely breathing.

A whispered voice in the hallway chilled him. It was definitely a man, but it wasn’t his dad.

Bolting upright, he squinted through the gloom and picked out the usual faint light around his bedroom door. The lanterns in the hallway emitted a soft, welcoming orange glow.

A shadow moved outside the room. Hal held his breath, expecting the doorknob to turn, the hinges to creak, a sinister figure to peer in at him . . .

He shook himself. Even if this were an intruder, a dragon shapeshifter had no reason to feel so rattled.

He threw back the covers and got up. Sometime during the winter, he’d ditched his pajamas in favor of enchanted smart clothes because they were much warmer. Tonight he was glad for them. He was ready to shift if he needed to.

The shadow under the door moved away as Hal tiptoed barefoot across the small room. Four paces later, he grasped the doorknob, turned it, and carefully pulled the door open.

Even though he’d expected it, the sight of a hulking figure standing in the softly illuminated hallway jolted him. The man was leaning into the master bedroom, and from within, Hal heard the muffled whimpers of his mom, then a heavy thump and the angry moans of his dad. An unfamiliar voice—a second intruder in the room—said quietly but clearly, Shut your noise. If you wake your kid, we’ll have to kill him.

Hal bunched his fists. Any lingering fear evaporated as his parents fell silent. He padded along the hallway, urging his bare feet to be extra quiet. He stopped right behind the first intruder, suddenly struck by indecision.

What should he do? He could easily take care of these men if he transformed into a dragon, but the hallway would be ruined. That paled compared to the threat to his life, but still, wrecking the house was best avoided if at all possible.

The man must have sensed Hal standing behind him because he swung around. His face was in shadow, but judging by his size—easily six and a half feet, with enormous shoulders—the guy was not to be trifled with.

Watch out, he rumbled to his partner in the master bedroom. He’s up.

Hal heard a curse, then thudding footsteps. His parents cried out, their voices muffled, probably gagged.

The second intruder emerged, silhouetted in the doorway. He was also tall but much thinner, wearing a cap with his hair sticking untidily out the sides. Rats. Plan B, then. Let’s go.

And, to Hal’s astonishment, both men took off down the hallway, casting furtive looks behind them as they went. A second later, they disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door.

When Hal rushed to his parents’ aid, he found them wriggling on the floor, bound at the wrists and ankles, rags stuffed tightly into their mouths.

His dad was closest. Hal pulled the gag out and started working on the ropes binding his wrists. His dad looked furious. Just loosen it off and go after them, son, he said through gritted teeth. Follow them through the hole and show ’em what they’re dealing with.

I think they already know, Hal said, trembling as he worked at the knot. They acted like they knew me.

His dad pulled his hands free. I can get it from here. Now go!

Hal hated to leave his mom trussed up. Surprisingly calm, she lay still as his dad dragged himself across the floorboards toward her, his ankles still bound. Her eyes were wide, but she gave Hal a nod when he glanced at her.

Go, son, his dad ordered.

Dashing from the bedroom, Hal skidded into the hall and made for the bathroom. It wasn’t locked. If it had been, he would have needed to transform to get through it or else go find a sledgehammer or something. Instead, the door swung open easily, and he stepped inside.

The intruders were gone.

This room, too, was lit with a lantern. A toilet stood against one wall next to the bathtub. There had once been a fitted sink and cupboard on the opposite wall, but now that space was taken up by a black, smoky, pulsing cloud that hung in the air. Like many bathrooms in the village, the cupboard under the sink had housed a mined lump of energy called a geo-rock to power a heating element in a small tank of water. But when Hal had blown up the mines in the east three months ago, he’d set off a chain reaction that caused every geo-rock in the land to explode and create portals—or ‘holes’—like this one.

Hal moved toward the silent cloud. It floated a foot off the floor, its backside pressed up against the wall. Spherical in shape, it was utterly silent, pulsing in and out as though breathing.

A sturdy wooden fence with a gate surrounded the cloud. These safety fences were commonplace in homes now. One or two villagers had stumbled into their bathrooms at night, half asleep and still yawning, and walked right into their cloud, toppling in without even a chance to cry out. They soon woke up when they plunged into the ocean thirty feet below on the other side.

Some had walled in their inconvenient clouds, permanently sealing them. Others had not gotten around to it in the past few months, or had preferred not to. The clouds were, after all, great fishing spots. Instead of solid walls, many homes now had these simple picket fences and gates installed.

Hal opened the gate, stepped closer to the smoky cloud, and stuck his head all the way through. As expected, a blast of cold wind hit him as he emerged in the moonlight over the ocean.

What shocked him was the sight of four grinning thugs inches from his nose. Before he could leap back, a hand shot out, grabbed his shirt, and yanked hard. Hal found himself tumbling forward through the cloud.

Gasping, he hit the deck of a ship and had time to glimpse a dozen men and women standing around before something clobbered him on the back of his head. He went down again, his vision blurring at the throbbing pain. Something cold and hard clamped around his neck, and he heard a metallic snap!

By the time he rose unsteadily to his knees, he knew it was too late. He fingered his iron collar with mounting horror.

Yeah, go ahead and shift, one of the thugs mocked. He was the one who’d trussed Hal’s parents, apparently the leader of this gang. "See if you can bust out of that pretty necklace."

There were titters and guffaws all around.

Hal peered up at their faces. Most were in darkness, but he saw enough to know that these people were scrags from Old Earth. Survivors of the virus outbreak thirteen years ago, their inflamed skin had blistered and cracked and burned, causing great pain even as their immune systems saved them from death. Living with the aftermath—itchy, irritable, burning skin, and sometimes worse—had caused many of them to go crazy. Living on the streets for over a decade couldn’t have helped their sanity either. Or watching loved ones die from the same virus they had survived.

This particular group had acquired a ship from somewhere. Or if not a ship, a really big boat. Maybe a fishing boat? It smelled like one. Hal took it all in as the scrags laughed and jeered: the heavily rusted cabin, the complicated rigging overhead, the rattling vibration of an engine deep below. The vessel was long enough to build two or three houses on, and the filthy, slippery deck high enough above sea level that the scrags could stand at the elevated front end and reach up to the smoky portal Hal had come through. The ancient boat tilted from side to side with the waves, the cold wind buffeting the crew as they jostled each other and joked about their new shapeshifter prisoner.

All right, let’s wrap this up, the scrag leader said at last. Tall and thin, he wore a cap and had hair sticking out the side. Get this heap on the move. The others, too. We’re done. Let’s go.

Hal suddenly recognized him from the streets of the city back on Old Earth, the one he’d called Scarecrow. Scrags weren’t friendly enough to strike up conversation and offer their real names. I know you, he said as some of the crew scurried away.

Scarecrow looked down at him. Yeah, kid. It’s time for Round Two.

The man next to him—the silent giant, whose bald head was more evident in the moonlight—grinned and thumped his fists together. Hammer-Man. Hal shuddered, remembering the chains the thug usually wore, the heavy hammer he slung over his shoulder. He’d probably stashed them away, being too noisy to sneak around houses at night.

Hal! a voice called. His dad had stuck his head out of the black, pulsing cloud and was looking all around.

Hammer-Man turned and swung his fist at him. He missed, though, because his wide-eyed target pulled back at the last second, disappearing from view as he tumbled back into the unseen bathroom beyond the cloud.

The giant scrag went to climb through the hole, partially engulfed in tendrils of smoke, but Scarecrow whacked him on the back of the head. No! Leave ’em. We’re outta here.

The fishing boat was already turning, and as the waves rolled, the bow lifted and snagged against the portal. The boat jerked, groaned, and bounced off as though smacking against a spongy but immovable rock. Hal felt a renewed sense of awe at the power of these seemingly insubstantial gateways. Navigating these waters must have been difficult. The holes were everywhere, all across the bay, and though much of the boat’s deck was low enough to slip underneath, the cabin and rigging definitely was not. The ocean was a minefield.

Scarecrow was yelling at everybody. Scrags lined the sides of the boat, leaning over and squinting into the night. Hal, still on his knees, his head throbbing, shook himself and looked at his captors—two of them, standing just behind him, ready to pounce if he tried to make a run for it.

The boat turned about and picked up speed, and it was then Hal spotted another vessel not too far away—and another. Three fishing boats of varying size, all as rusted and ancient as each other, maneuvering carefully across the water. Why the scrags were here was a mystery. Hal couldn’t believe they were simply trying to kidnap him. He had to assume other homes had been invaded, too. Had anyone else been abducted?

He wished he could transform. He fingered his iron collar again, knowing it would kill him if he tried to shift into his dragon form. His much larger reptilian neck would be throttled long before the iron broke apart. These collars were a simple and effective way to contain certain shapeshifters.

Shouts came from one side of the boat. The engine groaned, and the deck began to tilt. Hal felt himself sliding, and even his captors had trouble maintaining their balance. A smoky hole appeared in the darkness, a little lower than the rest, too low for the edge of the boat to fit under. The vessel couldn’t quite turn fast enough, either, and began to scrape against the immovable cloud. Metal groaned and screeched, and Hal imagined a huge dent along its length.

While his captors were distracted, trying to steady themselves on the slippery, tilting deck, Hal staggered onto his bare feet and took off running, hardly able to control his direction with all the movement. The scrags yelled and came after him.

He reached the back end of the vessel where there were very few scrags. Looking around, he wondered if he could steal one of the upturned lifeboats. But he abandoned the idea immediately. They were way too heavy, and he had no time to figure out how to lower one into the water using the crank. His two captors were already hot on his tail.

Hot on his tail . . .

Hal spun around to face them, his back pressed against the rails. A gust of wind drenched him in a cold spray as he worked up some heat from deep within. He may not be able to transform, but he could still breathe fire.

The flames leapt from his throat just as the scrags reached for him. They staggered back in shock, one of them falling and scrabbling in his hurry to escape the sudden firestorm. Hal kept it coming, moving his head from side to side to sweep the fire around in an arc.

Then, seeing no other choice but to vacate the boat, he climbed over the rails and took a dive.

The scrags yelled and swore, but Hal barely heard them. As he fell, he was keenly aware of the churning water at the back end of the boat, fearful of a giant propeller below the surface that might chop him into a million pieces.

When he hit the water, he went under and fought to control his instinctive urge to transform. He kicked and thrashed and finally surfaced, gasping and panting. After that he continued kicking, trying to swim effectively but barely managing to stay afloat with the weight of his sodden clothes and heavy metal collar.

All was suddenly quiet. The fishing boat chugged away in the moonlight, veering ponderously from side to side as it picked a circuitous route around dozens of smoky holes. In the distance, two other boats escaped into the night, taking with them whoever they might have abducted.

Hal paddled, already tired and disoriented as he rose and fell in the sloshing ocean. Everything looked the same no matter which way he looked, and the position of the moon wasn’t helping much. Which way was land? It was hard to tell in the darkness, and anyway the nearest shore was too far, nigh impossible for him to reach even if he knew which way to go. His best course of action was to swim back to the hole he’d come through, knowing his dad would be there to help him out. But which way was it?

He looked for the boats. They were almost out of sight. He turned and began swimming directly away from them, back the way he’d come.

Plenty of smoky portals hung suspended twenty or thirty feet in the air, but they were no good unless someone was there to help him out. His dad would be watching for him, though. And some villagers had, months ago, prepared for the possibility of falling into the sea by hanging knotted ropes to climb up. Maybe he could find one of those.

When Hal glanced over his shoulder, he saw that the boats had receded into the distance. For a while, the only sound was the water and his own panting. He was cold and tired, and his head throbbed. The sky was clear tonight, the half-moon bright, but there wasn’t a whole lot to see. Why did all those dozens of portals have to be the color of night? They showed up just fine in the daytime. At night they were almost invisible.

Then lights flared. His hopes soared as more and more glows showed up. Villagers were letting lanterns down on ropes or simply sticking their heads through and holding torches aloft. Now Hal had a choice of ten or more portals to head for. He looked for the nearest, wondering if he was still on course for his own. He might have drifted sideways and gotten turned about.

People were yelling now, calling frantically for missing loved ones. Hal felt awful for them and wondered how many had been stolen away by scrags on boats. Though he’d escaped, he wasn’t sure that anyone else had.

Now that the boats were a long way off, the undulating water had calmed a little, and Hal spotted something dark and flat on the surface a little way off. A small boat? No, it was too low for that. Maybe some debris?

The temptation to head for it was great. Something solid to hold on to would be wonderful right now. So he turned away from the distant flickering lights and swam instead for the mysterious platform.

The moon shone on the water and the dark object. The sky above was black. But as he drew nearer, he started to make out a blacker-than-black cloud hovering directly above whatever it was that floated there. Even better!

It was only when he came within thirty feet of it that he realized what it was. Gasping and weary, he let out a strangled cry of relief. It was Robbie and Lauren’s raft, tethered to a hole that led to the woods outside the village.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, he sputtered between breaths as he finally made it to safety. He clung to the wooden platform for a while, then slowly, painfully dragged himself out of the water. It took all his strength, and he still couldn’t manage to pull his feet onboard before giving out.

The rope that tethered the raft was taut, stretching nearly thirty feet into the air and through the smoky cloud. Hal knew it was tied to a log in the woods beyond. Ordinarily, he would have shinnied up that rope in less than a minute and hurried home without hesitation, but right now even the thought of climbing and running wore him down.

His numb fingers found their way into a crack between boards. Jamming them in and holding on for dear life, he closed his eyes to rest. His head hurt. His vision was blurred. Exhaustion took over, and everything went black.

In his sleep, he dreamed of people calling over and over. At one point he thought he heard his own name . . .

Chapter 2

Kidnappings

The noise of an engine woke Hal from his sleep. Wincing as a pain stabbed at the back of his head, he squinted in the early-morning sunlight as a boat approached—a small one this time, low-slung with military markings and helmed by two uniformed soldiers.

You okay, kid? one called to him.

Hal carefully sat up. He was cold, but at least his clothes were nearly dry. When he touched the back of his head, his fingers came away with a smudge of red. He had a lump there, and it was going to hurt for days unless he shifted and healed.

Reminded of his iron collar, he shuddered and vowed to get it removed straight away. What if he forgot it was there and transformed without thinking? I’m okay, but I need to get this thing off, he said as the boat drew near and slowed.

"What is that?" the soldier said with a frown.

Wait, the other said, nudging his colleague. I know him. He’s the dragon kid.

Hal nodded, relieved he didn’t need to explain himself. I can’t shift with this iron collar on. Can you pick the lock?

The soldiers peered at it, looking doubtful, as their boat gently bumped the raft. The lock’s built in. It’ll be fiddly. Might have to cut it off, but we can’t do that here.

Hal sighed. Looking around, he saw other military boats out and about. So what’s the deal? How many were kidnapped?

At least twenty-five that we know of, the first soldier said. As Hal’s mouth fell open in shock, the man nodded grimly. Scrags. They must have been sneaking in and out of houses for hours. They’ve taken whole families. It’s early yet, but your people are running around checking on neighbors to see if they’re okay. There might be more missing than we think.

The other soldier nodded and gestured toward to the rising sun. It all happened before dawn. We’ve got helicopters out searching, but people have been gone at least an hour or two now. If they’re still out to sea, we’ll find them. But if they docked somewhere, it’ll be harder. He narrowed his eyes. How many boats did you see?

Three, Hal said.

That confirms what we’ve been told already. How did you escape?

Hal touched his head again and winced. I breathed fire on them.

Both soldiers nodded but said nothing. They sat there and stared at Hal until he squirmed. Then one shook his head. Well, anyway, we should keep looking in case anyone is floating about. We found a woman earlier, clinging to a rope hanging from a portal. She was thirty feet from safety but too weak to climb up.

"How did she escape the scrags?" Hal asked.

The soldier smiled. She kicked up such a fuss that they threw her overboard. We found a boy, too. He fought like a tiger and jumped. They’re both fine. You’re the third we’ve found.

What boy? Hal asked, instantly thinking of his friends. Fought like a tiger? Could that have been Thomas, his manticore friend?

His name’s Carl. You know him?

Oh. Yeah, kind of. He’s a bully.

The soldiers exchanged a glance. Well, that would explain how he escaped. A little terror, he is. We’ll have to recruit him. Now, are you okay to climb that rope so we can get back to work? Or do you need a ride home?

Hal looked out across the bay. The cliffs and city in the distance reminded him again of the time he and a few friends had been stranded in this world with no shapeshifting abilities. Much closer, scattered all around, smoky black holes hung twenty or thirty feet above the sea. He’d tried counting them on occasion and always lost track at around fifty or so. They all looked the same. He had no idea which hole led to his own house.

In the distance, the biggest hole of them all—caused by an exploding wagon full of geo-rocks—hung impossibly in the air, hundreds of feet across, visible for miles around . . . and of no help to Hal right now.

I’ll just climb up here, he said at last.

As the soldiers gave him a casual salute and chugged away, Hal pulled himself up the rope, finding it harder than usual because of his throbbing head. He continued