Petrified Forest: Monster Hunters

By James Ahlers Farson

Divide and conquer.

Drew quieted his mind and steadied his breathing, then reached out with The Knowing. He hoped that something as familiar as fear would be revealed by an obvious emotional tag, something he could identify and latch onto. Whether Drew could grapple with the mans fear and then take control, well, that was another matter.

Ignore everything but the emotions of the superstitious man.

All at once the jungle around him disappeared as though a dark shroud had been pulled over the trees, the bushes, and the rocks. The flames of the campfire turned pale, a stain of gray light in a void of utter darkness. The humid air, alive with the droning of insects, thickened, and the sound trailed away as though disappearing down a funnel. Beneath it all, a faint pounding like the beat of a distant bass drum floated on the wind.

The pounding quickened, closer now, each beat echoing. Bump bump, bump bump, bump bump. The beats grew more intense until at last the sound resonated deep inside his head. A heart beat, racing faster and faster, until the beats joined in one continuous stream.

Diaz was aware of a presence invading his mind. The intrusion into his emotions whipped him into a state of panic.

But Drew had to delve further still.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 29, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452084046

James Ahlers Farson

James A. Farson and his wife, Holly, reside in Jacksonville, Florida, with their two sons, Matthew and Daniel, who are the main inspirations for this book series. Jim’s creativity was sparked at an early age by his own father’s gifted bedtime storytelling.

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© 2010 James Ahlers Farson. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 11/23/2010

ISBN: 978-1-4520-8402-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4520-8403-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4520-8404-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010915564

Printed in the United States of America

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Cover art and illustrations by Julia F. Ralston

For Holly, dearest wife, and James Matthew Farson, who filled my imagination with thoughts of adventure, lost cities, and gold

Contents

One

The Invitation

Two

The Menagerie

Three

The Medicine Man

Four

The Stone Man

Five

The Cenote

Six

The Jade Relic

Seven

Darkness Falls

Eight

The Tomb

Nine

Unexpected Help

Ten

Quetzalcoatl

Eleven

Unhappy Birthday

Twelve

Secret of the Oil

Thirteen

The Nest

Fourteen

The Curse

Fifteen

The Campfire

Sixteen

The Chase

Seventeen

The Last Hope

Eighteen

The Petrified Forest

Nineteen

Stars

One

The Invitation

Dr. Nigel Bartram braced himself for yet another attack. Linnaeus, he said, from behind his burnished desk, you really should control your passions. We’ve debated this at length, my friend. I need not remind you how vital the Davenports are to our work. Their youngest son, Andrew, has The Knowing.

Linnaeus stood opposite neat stacks of books and papers that covered the desk. He crossed his arms and sighted down his long, straight nose with sniper eyes. That boy has killed a dragon, the very thing we’ve dedicated our lives to protecting. He and his family care nothing for our work. Only curiosity has driven them this far … and you’re encouraging it!

Yes, I am encouraging them, and I will continue to do so. Bartram swiveled in his leather chair, at peace with the other man’s anger. He was no stranger to his colleague’s ranting. Linnaeus, I seem to remember that curiosity brought you to my door long ago. And curiosity keeps you here.

That’s different. Of course, curiosity is part of it. But I’ve always been committed to preserving the world’s extraordinary creatures above all else.

The dragon tried to kill the family. The Davenports were protecting themselves, attacked in their home and forced into a difficult situation. Some would call that self-defense.

They could’ve abandoned their house, Nigel, made a new life elsewhere.

And left their charge? Dr. Bartram grinned and leaned forward on his desk.

Linnaeus fumed, his eyes narrowed. What charge?

There is another at the Davenport farm … younger, I think, but still very ancient.

Another fire drake at Black Mountain? You must be joking.

Dr. Bartram teepeed his hands. The younger drake was badly injured in a battle with the other dragon. A dispute over the value of human life I’m told. The Davenports rescued the drake known as Talamris and cared for him in their barn. He would’ve died had they abandoned him.

Surely, many know about the drake now. How can we possibly contain this information? This is a disaster.

Relax. The family has respected his wish to stay hidden. The dragon remains loyal to the Davenports, especially the boy. I understand they even play chess.

Linnaeus eased back a little and scratched his well-trimmed beard. Still, whatever their reason for staying, it doesn’t change the fact that the boy killed the creature without regard for its significance. I can’t believe you’re so forgiving.

Dr. Bartram stared at his desk top and sighed. I admit it’s regrettable that even a single dragon has died. They are so rare these days, but the boy did what he thought was right under the circumstances. He didn’t go after the dragon like some sportsman seeking a trophy for his wall.

Don’t be naïve, Nigel. The father’s a hunter, it’s in the boy’s blood.

You know I value your counsel, my friend. Allow me the favor of trusting my judgment in this matter.

Bah. We don’t need them, Nigel.

Dr. Bartram pursed his lips. As usual, it proved useless to argue with the proud, stubborn man. Barristers were always quick to argue and slow to listen. The real question is: how did the boy slay the dragon? That remains a mystery, one that I hope will reveal itself in time. I suspect that feat involved the boy’s special gift. The family is somewhat reluctant to discuss the details.

Drew squinted past the imperfections in the old glass to stare at the world outside. The wooded mountains surrounding his home were green and alive. Trees swayed in perfect unison as gentle breezes rippled through fresh summer leaves. A reddish-brown clapboard barn faced the house about a football field’s length away, used by his dad as a veterinary office.

A black truck with a horse trailer was parked in front of the barn – not an unusual sight – but this trailer was odd. Drew grabbed his binoculars from the windowsill and brought them into focus. Metal plating made this trailer look more like an armored car. Neither the truck nor trailer displayed the markings of any particular farm. Nevertheless, he had a hunch. He snagged a ball cap from his bedpost and raced outside.

The aroma of spring flowers sugared the morning air, and as he circled the house, a chorus of birds on the rooftop practiced their calls. He might have stopped to listen and identify them, but he had a more pressing discovery to make.

Drew crunched up the gravel drive that connected the house with the barn. His heart raced faster with each step. He spied the initials, T.A.S., in small white letters on the door of the black truck, and smiled. The Aegis Society. The secretive conservation society his family had been invited to join a few months ago, after the incident involving the dragon.

The large barn doors parted, and Dillon rushed out, an amused grin on his face. Run for cover, Little Bro, if you know what’s good for you.

A sound like tumbling logs battered the morning air. Drew heard his dad shout, Rachael, watch out! Drew crept closer as clattering wood echoed within the barn. A deep resounding clang, like the striking of a gong, followed.

Whoa, Dad said, a note of caution in his voice. That’s a good girl, take it easy. Rachael, you’re too close. Run!

Drew stepped between the doors and stopped. A white horse with a thick gray mane and tail, its backside to Drew, bucked around the open area. Dad stood before the animal with a rope made into a lasso. In faded jeans, boots, and white T-shirt, covered with dirt and straw down one entire side, he looked like a cowboy facing down a mount that had just unhorsed him.

John, are you insane? Mom said, crouched behind a toppled steel drum, a large dent in its side. She won’t let you lasso her.

She’s giving me the eye, Dad said, laughing. The beautiful mare neighed and thrashed her head. But I think she’s tired.

Drew spoke from the doorway, What’s going on?

Stay back, Drew, Mom said, waving him away.

No problem, I’ll take care of it. Drew closed his eyes and concentrated on the unsettled horse. He was still inexperienced with his empathic gift, but a horse was a simple and familiar creature that he could handle. Remaining calm and focused was the real secret. He had helped Dad calm down other frightened horses before in this way.

Hold on, Drew, Dad said, backing into a damaged stall, you don’t understand.

Drew probed deep into the horse’s emotions, but its mind was a locked chest. Nothing about this horse was familiar. True, he had much to learn about The Knowing, but hadn’t he progressed enough to read this animal? Frustrated, he opened his eyes. The mare spun around, her bright blue eyes danced with an inner fire. She pawed the ground and took a backward step.

Then something amazing caught Drew’s eye: a single wavy horn more than two feet long protruded from the mare’s forehead. Thick at its base, the horn spiraled to a gleaming point.

Mom, still behind the toppled barrel, stood up. Drew, it’s a unicorn that—

The unicorn lowered her head and charged.

Run! Dad yelled.

Drew dove sideways as the unicorn thundered by, whipping her head in a quick circle. The long, rapier-sharp horn missed him by inches. With an angry neigh, she raced into the morning sunlight.

Behind Drew came the sound of scattering of gravel and a muffled thud. Dillon cursed. My throwing arm! Drew rolled over and spied Dillon against the black truck, sliding down its side, engulfed in a cloud of gravel dust. Beyond the truck, the unicorn was in full retreat.

Dillon! Mom said, running from the barn. Did she strike you? Mom rushed to Dillon, who sat crumpled against the truck, which now had a crease in its door.

Dillon cradled his right arm with his left as he stood. I dodged the horn, but she knocked me into the truck, thanks to my brainless brother. He stared at Drew with narrowed eyes, and frowned. Drew, if I miss playing this season, I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you.

Drew rose, and leaned against the barn, as if to blend in.

Settle down, Dillon, Dad said, walking over. Let me see it. Dillon held out his arm and winced. Dad palpated up and down the arm. We should x-ray it to be sure, but I think it’s just a sprain.

Dad turned his gaze on Drew. You have to learn that you’re just like the rest of us when it comes to these extraordinary animals. Last month, didn’t the griffon almost take your arm off?

Well, um—, Drew stammered.

Have you forgotten about those twenty stitches already?

Drew covered the obvious scar on his arm and kicked the dirt.

Dad shook his head. We’ll talk about this later. Right now, we have to catch the unicorn before she leaves the property. He coiled his rope, and walked toward the open field between the house and barn, where the unicorn had stopped.

Do you think an apple might help? Mom said. I have some in the kitchen.

Dad nodded. Good thinking, let’s appeal to her stomach. He looked back. C’mon, Drew, help me keep her out of the woods.

Dillon, come to the house, Mom firmly said, and we’ll get some ice for your arm. She and Dillon jogged down the gravel drive, up the front porch steps, and disappeared inside.

The unicorn tossed her head as Drew and his dad moved closer. The angry neighing and snorting grew louder with each step they advanced.

Careful now, Drew, Dad said as he readied the lasso. Don’t get close, just circle around and stand in front of the woods. Let me approach her.

Dad, she doesn’t like the rope, Drew said, heading toward the woods. She knows what it’s for. The unicorn resumed pawing the ground.

Dad stopped and dropped his hands to his sides. Let’s wait for your mom.

The unicorn had no intention of waiting. Just as before, she lowered her head and charged Drew, only this time he had no cover. He widened his stance and prepared to dodge to avoid becoming shish-ka-bobbed.

Suddenly, a dark shadow glided over the open ground and a large reptilian form – even bigger than the truck – touched down between Drew and the unicorn. Great leathery wings folded on the dragon’s back as he lifted his head high into the air. A pair of low swept horns inclined downward when he opened his mouth, revealing a jaw ringed with teeth like serrated daggers. Molten gold eyes stared down at the unruly unicorn, which skidded to a hasty halt.

Be at peace, my anxious friend, Talamris said in his gravelly voice. They are not your enemies. The unicorn instantly relaxed in the dragon’s shadow. The imposing crocodilian head swiveled on a long, scaly neck toward Dad. Your rope is not needed.

Dad tossed the rope on the ground and shrugged.

Mom’s eyes widened when she emerged from the house, and a warm smile settled upon her face. Her hands cupped a small pyramid of shiny red apples, and she wasted no time joining them. Talamris, what a pleasant surprise, she said.

Talamris bowed, looking at each of them in turn. It appears my arrival was at the right time. His gaze stopped at Drew. Master Drew, standing in the path of a charging unicorn is unwise. Their beauty and grace is beyond measure, but they are not to be underestimated.

I’m not sure what happened, Drew said, kicking the ground. I tried to calm the unicorn, but it didn’t work. She just grew angrier.

She was confused, Talamris said. "You should not expect to master The Knowing in so short a time. For over two thousand years have I practiced the art and I am still learning. Patience, Master Drew, as you have much to learn."

But I’ve calmed down other horses without trouble.

So you think this magnificent creature is a mere horse? True, she resembles a horse in many ways, but did you notice the cloven hooves or the two horns, so intertwined they appear as one? She shares more in common with a ram than a horse.

He’s right, Dad muttered, scratching the back of his head.

The horn and hooves make a difference? Drew asked.

You have no experience with unicorns, Talamris said. How can you possibly understand and comprehend her feelings? Not all creatures feel and express emotions in the same way. Unicorns have never been domesticated, and are not easily approached.

She seems to trust you, Talamris, Mom said.

Over the centuries I have learned much of the unicorn. You may be interested to know that they are more trusting of the fair gender. I once watched a Russian lass summon one to her side and persuade it to lay its head in her lap. If you want to gain her trust, I suggest that Rachael make the first move.

Me? Mom said, nearly dropping her apples.

Talamris nodded.

Sure, I guess … okay. Mom set the apples on the grass at her feet except for one that she held in her open hand. She took a short step toward the unicorn, which neighed and bobbed its head, but otherwise didn’t move.

Talamris spoke softly. Good, move with confidence and do not fear. The more she respects you, the more comfortable she will become.

Mom’s outstretched hand was only a few feet from the unicorn when the unicorn lowered to her knees and stretched for the gleaming red apple with eager lips, mindful of her horn.

Mom gently rubbed the unicorn’s face and whispered sweetly. Her mane is soft as silk. She’s so beautiful.

You have an inner strength the unicorn respects, Talamris said. They are very loyal companions. She will be much easier to approach now.

Talamris shifted his gaze to Drew. See how she treasures the apple. A simple gift from a gentle hand can make all the difference. Remember that, Master Drew, when you are tempted to lean too much on your own abilities.

Mom, I think she likes you, Drew said.

The unicorn crunched the crisp apple.

Certainly looks that way, Dad said. Talamris, we’ve been asked to care for the unicorn by The Aegis Society, but I’m not sure that’ll be easy. How can we keep her on the property?

Do not think how to restrain the unicorn, Talamris said. Show her the same hospitality that you always show to me. Allow her freedom and she will stay on your farm, happy and content. Put away your ropes.

I didn’t mean to offend her. I’m as guilty as Drew because I allowed the unicorn’s appearance to influence my thinking, too. After all, she does look a lot like a horse.

Outer appearances can be deceiving. See now, her peaceful spirit has returned. The unicorn reached for another apple from Mom’s hand. A final warning to you all, Talamris whispered. Never attempt to ride a unicorn. Nothing humiliates them more than being forced into service as a steed. They are known to buck unwise men into the air and impale them on their horns.

Do you hear that, Drew? Dad asked, eyebrows raised.

Drew nodded, but he would never admit that he had already considered the possibility of riding the unicorn. Scratch that from the list.

Dad turned back to Talamris. We’re leaving to visit the headquarters of The Aegis Society in England, tomorrow. I’d like to think that our new guest will still be here when we return.

Rest easy, I will keep an eye on her, Talamris said. The unicorn and I will be old friends by the time you return. May I inquire as to the purpose of your visit?

Dr. Bartram wasn’t very specific on the phone yesterday, but he mentioned something about Mexico. He’s very eager for us to make the trip.

I am confident your affiliation with Dr. Bartram is a good one, Talamris said. His concern for the world runs deep and those laboring beside him will undoubtedly make a difference.

I have to agree, Dad said. He’s already introduced us to some incredible experiences. Since his visit in March, we’ve seen a griffin and now a unicorn, both creatures that aren’t supposed to exist. What could be next?

Whatever it is, I know that you are up to the challenge, Talamris said, flashing a reptilian grin. Please, give Dr. Bartram my kindest regards.

missing image file

When they stepped into the terminal at Heathrow International Airport, a tall man with spiky blonde hair shifted nervously as he held a cardboard sign that read Davenports. The man looked uncomfortable in his rumpled tan slacks and faded blue golf shirt. Surrounded by a sea of travelers, he craned his neck awkwardly in all directions, searching the bustling crowd.

Dad, Drew said, tapping his dad’s shoulder, someone’s expecting us.

The stranger spied them, waved enthusiastically, and came toward them. In his haste, he stumbled against a metal trash bin that crashed to the floor like clattering cymbals. The sign slipped from his grasp and soared over people’s heads like a runaway Frisbee. A minor miracle he didn’t fall. He jumped away from the bin, smoothed the front of his shirt, and weaved his way through the crowd. He thrust his hand at Dad, and greeted him with a broad smile.

Welcome to London, Dr. Davenport, the man said. I’m Dr. Spears, but everyone here calls me Travis.

Good to meet you, Dad said, shaking hands. Call me John. This is my wife, Rachael, and my sons, Dillon and Drew. Travis towered over them, even taller than he had first appeared.

I’ll escort you to Dr. Bartram’s estate, the headquarters of The Aegis Society. We have a long drive in front of us, so if you don’t mind, let’s get moving. He whirled around and marched off.

Drew caught up with Travis. You’re not from England, are you? Drew asked, staring up at him. You don’t have an accent.

Southern California.

I’ve never been there, but I’d like to see it. What kind of doctor are you?

I’m a marine biologist. Travis grinned. And what’s your field?

Me? I don’t have a field. I’m just ten – almost eleven – but I like animals, underwater ones, too.

Well then, Drew, you’re in for a real treat. The Aegis Society is devoted to the study of rare and exotic animals. You’ll see some interesting species and possibly learn about a few new ones, too. Animal preservation is the society’s main work.

I can’t wait.

You won’t be disappointed.

missing image file

Drew gazed out the backseat window and spied a series of NO TRESPASSING signs along the road. Their two hour drive through the English countryside was nearly at an end. Travis slowed the truck, and lurched to a stop beside stone pillars flanking a set of ornate, black metal gates. Both pillars were set with brass plaques emblazoned with the single word: AEGIS.

We’re here, Travis said, opening his door. I’ll call up and let them know we’ve arrived. He caught his foot on the step rail and stumbled from the truck. His hand grabbed for the doorframe, but missed. He planted a knee on the asphalt, tearing his khakis, then glanced back with a red face. His performance ended with a polite bow.

And he’s still standing, folks, Dillon muttered, with a muffled snort. Then he leaned close to Drew’s ear and whispered, Since you’re so accident-prone, maybe you should stay away from Travis. Come to think of it, stay away from me, too. Dillon elbowed Drew in the side with his injured arm, now supported by a sling. After the unicorn incident, Dad had said that Dillon would have to wear the sling for at least a week. Drew knew he would have to deal with Dillon’s torment for at least that long.

Are you okay, Travis? Mom asked, unbuckling her seatbelt.

Oh, I’m fine, Travis said. Just a touch of land sickness, that’s all.

Travis punched in a code at a call box beside the formidable gates. He waited with folded arms, whistling a tune and tapping his foot. The gates groaned open a minute later.

Right on time, Travis murmured as he jumped back into the driver’s seat just missing his head on the door frame.

The truck snaked through dense woods for a few minutes until breaking free of the trees into an open field, where the sun hovered just above the crimson horizon. The drive ended in a lazy circle before an impressive stone manor house. Two wings extended from the main house in opposite directions, each with three floors of windows, and many with balconies enclosed by weathered metal railings.

Drew’s eyes traveled upward to a squad of gargoyles standing guard along the roofline. Their faces contorted with fear, as if frozen in a moment of ultimate terror. The long shadows accentuated their creepiness. Cool, he muttered.

Dillon tapped him on the shoulder. I see a strong resemblance to you, he said, gesturing to the gargoyles, only they’re better looking.

The one on the corner looks like your last girlfriend, Drew replied.

Travis stopped the truck before wide stone steps that led to a giant black door with an arched top. The landing was flanked by manicured green hedges. This building is the society’s main office and museum, he said. Dr. Bartram keeps an apartment on the third floor of the east wing.

Looks like a fortress, Mom said.

Travis turned in his seat. "The Allies used this place during World War II as a secret base of sorts.