Haunted Fortress: Island of Fog Legacies, #4

By Keith Robinson

A magical fantasy adventure with shapeshifters and creatures from myth and legend. Suitable for all readers 9 and up. Parents, read this with your children!

 

Young shapeshifters Travis and Melinda are tasked with visiting the infamous Haunted Fortress to uncover its dark secrets. The residents of Hemlock, a small seaside village, have been seeing a phantom figure on and off for the past two hundred years. The phantom has many names – Screeching Witch, Fiery Goddess, Ghoulish Ghost, and Mechanical Lady for starters – but she's mostly known as the Snake Lady, a naga who appears out of thin air and then vanishes again.

The fortress is something to behold, floating above the sea just off the coast. And what's with the block of ice in the main chamber? Not only does it refuse to melt despite repeated attempts at thawing, the naga folk in the nearby woods suggest it contains a perfectly preserved corpse and should be left well alone.

Miss Simone disagrees. With Travis as a super-heated cherufe and Melinda as a naga girl, their two-pronged mission is to melt the ice and debunk the phantom...

 

HAUNTED FORTRESS is the fourth installment in the Island of Fog Legacies series. Good, clean, sometimes scary fun for young readers, and suitable for adults as well.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Unearthly Tales
• Release date: Aug 20, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386460466

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

Chapter 1

Monsters in the Lab

Come in, children, Miss Simone said with a rare smile and exaggerated flourish as she stepped aside and allowed them into her laboratory.

Melinda glanced sideways at Travis, who looked equally befuddled. It was one thing to be summoned for an important mission, but for Miss Simone to be openly cheerful . . .

Being a mermaid shapeshifter, she looked as radiant as ever, perhaps more so because of her smile. The blue-eyed, golden-haired scientist rarely transformed, but even as a human her magical power of enchantment never failed to impress boys and men alike. Travis had the same googly-eyed, lovestruck expression he always wore in her presence, like someone had turned his brain to mush.

Pathetic, Melinda thought.

Have a seat, Miss Simone urged, gesturing toward a couple of cozy armchairs and a round glass table in the corner—a relatively new addition so parents could wait in comfort during shapeshifter procedures. Thank you for starting your new mission on a Friday afternoon. I’m sure you want to know what this little task is about, yes?

Yes, Travis and Melinda chorused.

They sat, and Miss Simone perched on the edge of Melinda’s armchair. The scientist carried a faint scent of seaweed and sea salt, which was odd since she probably hadn’t swum in the ocean for years. There’s a small coastal village called Hemlock a few hours east of here.

Hemlock? Melinda questioned. Like the poisonous plant?

Miss Simone nodded. Just like the poisonous plant. It’s north of Brodon.

She didn’t elaborate on the reasoning behind Hemlock’s name, and anyway, Melinda was more interested in Brodon, a place she’d always wanted to visit. Twenty years ago, a battle had raged on the beach as her parents and all their friends fought a motley gang of dangerous scrags. The villains had stolen the secrets to the new Shapeshifter Program, and they’d wasted no time trying out their new alter-egos and transforming into all manner of magical beasts.

But Melinda and Travis weren’t going to Brodon. They were headed to a village she’d never heard of, named after a potentially deadly shrub.

What’s so special about Hemlock? Travis asked in a soft, slurred voice. Totally smitten, Melinda thought with disgust.

Despite its sinister name, Hemlock is a lovely place by the sea, Miss Simone said, smiling again. Yes, there are plenty of hemlock plants around, and it was because of those—because of the witches that settled there and cultivated the plant for medicine and potions—that the village was founded in the first place. The closest neighbors are in the woods nearby, a large tribe of naga who have a fascination with dark magic. They keep to themselves, but it’s unusual for the naga to dabble in such things. Anyway, what interests me most is the fortress out in the bay.

"The fortress? Melinda repeated. Like a stronghold?"

More like a dark, foreboding castle that’s hard to find and even harder to enter. It’s supposedly haunted.

Melinda’s heart sank. "And we’re going there?"

Miss Simone reached down and patted Melinda’s knee. Don’t worry, dear. I don’t believe you’ll see any ghosts. I think there’s a logical explanation for what’s been going on there for the past two hundred years. This is something that’s interested me for a very long time after I visited there once. Alas, it’s never been a priority, and I just never found a moment to dig deeper. But now I have shapeshifters I can call on. That’s your mission this weekend—to uncover the truth and debunk the paranormal.

Debunk the paranormal, Melinda said, liking the sound of it despite her misgivings. That’s our mission? To prove ghosts are fake?

And to melt a block of ice.

Melinda glanced again at Travis. He was frowning, deep in thought, which surely meant his brain wasn’t all mush. Block of ice, he intoned.

It’s too warm for ice, she said.

Miss Simone raised an eyebrow. It’s never too warm for a block of magical ice that’s stood in the fortress for two hundred years. She turned to Travis. That’ll be your job, my dear. You’ll go as a cherufe. If that molten-rock creature can’t melt through the ice, then nothing can. Miss Simone turned back to Melinda. And you’ll go as a naga.

Why a naga?

Because you’ll probably need to talk to the local tribe. The so-called ghost is a naga, too. A goddess, to be precise.

She said it with a hint of scorn and a raised eyebrow.

A dark-haired, white-coated lady popped her head around the door. Ready for me?

Miss Simone stood up. Children, let’s get started.

****

Shapeshifter Procedure Day was usually on a Saturday morning for the likes of Melinda and Travis. Unlike most young shapeshifters, they’d inherited strong immune systems from their shapeshifter parents, so their bodies fought off the foreign DNA and rendered them normal within a couple of days. With that two-day limit, they just had time to complete a mission before returning to school on Monday.

On this occasion, Miss Simone had suggested starting on a Friday afternoon. That gave them more time on their mission even if their powers ran dry on the Sunday afternoon.

Melinda woke and sat up, trying to clear the grogginess and remember what she was supposed to be. Oh yes—a naga!

She wakes, her mom said from one of the armchairs in the corner.

It’s only been an hour, her dad said, getting to his feet. These kids must be getting used to the procedure. How are you feeling, sweetie?

Melinda shrugged. The usual. Shall I transform?

Her mom laughed. Sure. Let’s see you.

Double-checking she was already wearing her smart clothes—a silky green dress over equally silky but much darker green leggings—she stood up and concentrated on the transformation. It always felt weird at first, something new that had to be kick-started. It wasn’t too difficult, and was usually much smoother after the first successful shift.

It hadn’t been so easy for her parents when they’d first transformed all those years ago. Her mom, Lauren, a quietly brave girl, had launched from the top of a lighthouse to show the others her shifting talents. Today, she remained the only clean harpy in existence. Melinda’s dad, Robbie, was possibly the goofiest ogre of them all. In the beginning, his transformative powers had come in fits and starts.

It helps knowing what I am, she thought as her legs, together with the magical silk of her leggings, fused together. If I had no idea I was a naga, I wouldn’t know what to focus on.

Her theory was sound on the surface. After all, if she could picture herself as half human and half snake, she could quite easily steer her transformation along. But she couldn’t possibly comprehend what was inside her naga form, how the internal organs of a human blended so well with those of a giant snake. All that stuff just happened on its own no matter how she envisioned the kind of creature she was becoming. Magic and science at its most remarkable, as Miss Simone often commented.

Melinda was happy to see she retained her arms. Naga shapeshifters were unique in that respect, because they came in two distinct forms—those who slithered around on land and lived in neighboring communities, and the water-dwelling creatures that kept to themselves. There was one obvious difference: arms. The aquatic variety had no use for them, so they looked very much like giant snakes with human heads.

I have arms! Melinda said with a grin. That was kind of worrying me. I can’t imagine not having hands.

If you transform underwater, her dad said, you’ll automatically be the other kind. You can swim well either way, but the watery naga are much faster.

And not as smart, her mom muttered. Is that right? I heard they’re a little . . . primitive?

With her transformation complete, Melinda found she could rise up even taller than her dad, at least while he was in human form. She looked down on him and swayed from side to side, amazed at the power she felt in her serpentine body from the waist down. Her dress remained intact, but her leggings had altered to become a transparent second skin rather like she was in the process of shedding.

Startled, she realized her tail stretched all the way across the laboratory. It was a medium-brown color, scaly and shiny, flecked with darker browns here and there. She peeked down the front of her dress. From the waist up, the brown blended with the natural color of her belly—but even then, her skin felt scaly all the way to her shoulders and neck, spreading across her cheeks.

She felt around on her face and head. Her ears were a little pointy, and she had fangs.

I feel like I can spring across the room and sink my teeth into that armchair, Melinda said with a nervous laugh. I never minded snakes before, but now . . . Well, maybe I should be more careful around them. I swear I could inject venom into that cushion before you had a chance to blink.

Her parents laughed. "Yeah, well, I’m just glad you’re something smart, her dad said. I’m not so sure about your cousin being a rock monster."

Her ‘cousin’—actually no more than a family friend—was in the next room. Melinda headed for the door, eager to see what Travis looked like.

Out in the corridor, she stopped dead at the sound of a commotion. The door to the adjacent room flew open, and Travis’s mom, Abigail, came rushing out. Fire extinguisher! she yelled.

Goblins frequented the laboratory buildings, and two of them responded quickly as though fires were a common occurrence. They each rushed to Abigail’s aide with red-painted buckets of sand, dashing into the smoke-filled room.

Melinda couldn’t help giggling. This had to be Travis’s doing. Only he could be silly enough to accidentally set fire to the place. She peered around the door, half expecting to see flames raging and black smoke rolling across the ceiling.

It wasn’t quite that bad, but it still made her laugh. Hal Franklin—the famous dragon shapeshifter—was busy stamping on some scattered papers that had caught fire while his wife yanked smoldering sheets off the bed and threw them down. The two goblins poured their buckets of sand over a trash can and the nearby desk, smothering the angry flames and causing more smoke to twist up to the ceiling.

Travis stood in the middle of the room looking mortified. At least, Melinda guessed he looked mortified. It was hard to tell with a face that resembled a pile of small, blackened rocks.

His entire body appeared to be formed out of hefty charred boulders of all shapes and sizes, with smaller rocks jammed in between, and he glowed orange in several places as though lava oozed from every joint. He had to be eight feet tall, and he stooped to avoid touching the ceiling. Even so, the log beam and paneling directly overhead was slowly blackening.

Melinda could feel the heat from where she stood in the doorway. His parents both looked red-faced and sweaty, and the goblins recoiled from his presence.

Open a window, Abigail suggested.

Shaking his head, Hal did so and turned to his son. Travis, do you have it under control now?

I think so, Travis grumbled, his voice deep and somewhat muffled as though he spoke from within a cave. His eyes were distinctly human and seemed tiny compared to his flat nose and broad jaw. He didn’t have any teeth. Melinda guessed a rock monster had no gums to embed them in.

We really should make a point of wheeling shapeshifter patients outside before they wake, his mom complained. Like we did when he was a dragon.

It would be less destructive, Hal agreed.

Travis hung his head. Sorry.

His glowing orange patches had dimmed to a dark red by now. Like lava cooling on the side of a volcano, the molten patches formed into hard rock.

Melinda became aware of her own parents standing behind her, looking in. Her dad said, What is it with you Franklins and fire? A dragon for a dad, then Travis the fireball-shooting chimera, then Travis the fire-breathing dragon, and now Travis the volcano monster with lava blood and a touch that burns in an instant.

Hal grinned. We like to make an impact.

Speak for yourself, Abigail muttered, wiping her brow as the two goblins pushed past and left. Clearly they had no intention of helping clean up. This is the last time my son dabbles with fire.

Travis took a couple of steps across the lab and left more dark, smouldering footprints. I should go outside.

Just change back, Hal said. A cherufe is always superheated by nature. You’ll leave burn marks however calm and collected you are. And if you get upset or angry, you’ll probably set more fires just by being close to combustible materials.

Melinda watched with interest as Travis slowly reverted to his human form. His smart clothes had somehow survived the battering, but she wasn’t surprised; from what she understood, the magical material could become virtually invisible, change size, and stretch as needed in an effort to remain on hand but incognito. It could also avoid being savagely cut with a knife; it simply split apart before the blade got to it, then repaired itself afterward. Apparently, it could withstand extreme temperatures as well.

The room began to cool off after he’d shrunk to his familiar human self. Melinda eased in through the door and reverted to human form—but not before showing off a little first. She waited until Mr. and Mrs. Franklin were suitably impressed and Travis perhaps a little jealous of her safe naga form.

Don’t know why I have to be a cherufe, he grumbled. "Miss Simone said I needed to melt some ice? Melting ice is easy."

Not when it’s magical ice, his dad said, stepping forward to ruffle his son’s hair.

Travis ducked out from under him. I don’t care how magical it is. Ice is ice, right? What’s wrong with using a flame on the end of a stick?

Miss Simone spoke from the doorway. You’re welcome to try that, Travis, but I think you’ll quickly realize your attempts will be futile. Now, if you’re ready, Blacknail is waiting for you outside to take you to Hemlock.

Melinda frowned. Blacknail? Blacknail the goblin? She turned to her mom and dad. The one who drove you to the Labyrinth of Fire in a giant, steam-driven, six-wheeled buggy? And flew you to Whisper Mountain in an airship that fell apart?

Her parents smiled and looked at one another. Ah, those were the days, her dad said. "And yes—that Blacknail. He’s got a new toy he wants to try out."

Chapter 2

Blacknail’s Toy

Travis felt a little embarrassed at his overly dramatic awakening. It wasn’t the first time, either. He remembered slashing at his dad when he’d woken as a chimera two weeks ago, and now this—setting fire to the room before he’d even sat up. He couldn’t blame himself, though. As his dad had mentioned, cherufes were dangerously hot even when calm and collected. Their natural state of being was just short of volcanic.

Toting his overnight bag and enough food for the weekend, he followed his parents outside, knowing Melinda was right behind him with a smug look on her face. He scowled at the ground. Yeah, yeah, she transformed easily and didn’t go thrashing about on the floor knocking things over with her ridiculously massive snake body. She didn’t need time to get used to it. She just got it right first time. Unlike me.

He’d have been all right if he hadn’t accidentally transformed before waking. His mom was right. Next time, they would wheel him outside before he wrecked the place.

It was mid-afternoon by now, and they had a journey ahead that would likely take them into the early evening. I’m kind of nervous about Blacknail, Melinda whispered.

Travis instantly put his shame aside. I know, right? Mom and Dad have talked about him and his contraptions like he’s a crazy crackpot inventor.

See, if we had wings, we could just fly to Hemlock and be there in no time.

Or Dad could fly us, Travis said quietly as a vision of riding on a dragon’s back popped into his mind. There was plenty of room for him and Melinda even with some overnight things. But he doesn’t like to get too involved. He thinks he’s interfering if he gives us rides everywhere.

So we’re doomed to ride one of Blacknail’s rickety machines, Melinda said with a sigh.

The entire party—Travis and Melinda together with both sets of parents, all led by Miss Simone—trooped down the path away from the laboratory buildings. When they emerged onto the main road, Blacknail the goblin raised a hand in greeting while scowling.

He was just like all goblins: stout and heavyset, a piglike face with perpetually deep-set grimace, small eyes, jutting bottom teeth, and wispy hair that seemed to cling on without his knowledge. He wore brown pants and sturdy boots, a wide leather belt, and a chainmail vest favored by many goblins. It was hard to tell how old he was. Technically speaking, he was an old shapeshifter the same age as Miss Simone . . . but while she’d aged better than most people, virtually all goblins wore gnarly scowls and frown lines from the day they were born.

About time, he grumbled. Get on board.

Travis and Melinda stared at the giant six-wheeled vehicle blocking the road. It towered above them, each of its iron wheels taller than a man. His dad had always called it a ‘buggy.’

I thought we were supposed to be trying out a new toy? Travis said, turning to his dad.

His dad patted him on the shoulder. You will be. But you have to get there first.

Get where?

Haven’t got all day! Blacknail barked, already climbing the ladder attached to the side. He disappeared through a small door high above the ground.

Travis and Melinda said their goodbyes. It was always a little awkward leaving on a mission. Miss Simone assured them that it wouldn’t be dangerous this time, that it was just a bit of detective work and spending two nights in a spooky fortress. Still, there was always the chance something might go awry, and for that reason, the parents had to worry and chew their lips and look like they might be about to change their minds.

Travis hugged his mom and dad, then detached himself from his mom’s grip and hurried toward the giant buggy. Blacknail was a bit of a legend in Carter. Most people had forgotten he was actually a human named Riley. He just preferred being a goblin, rarely seen but always tinkering, generating gossip from time to time about some new device or other. He spent time at the laboratory buildings, too; the goblins owned a third of the complex out back, though what they did there was a mystery. Even Miss Simone left them to it.

Come on, Melinda, Travis called as he clambered up the ladder.

She escaped her parents and hurried after him.

The buggy was surprisingly spacious on the inside. It had rows of seats rather like a bus, and a roof over their heads for protection against the dirt flung up by the wheels. The vehicle was over twenty years old. When shapeshifters had ridden it to the Labyrinth of Fire back in those ancient days, there had been no roof for the nine-hour journey, and the passengers had slowly burned in the sun, then been spattered with dirt and bugs and rained on. Blacknail had installed a makeshift roof shortly after, which had been torn apart by attacking trolls. The current roof was sturdy with large windows all around.

Blacknail made himself comfortable in the single driver’s seat and started up the machine. It still ran on steam, but the startup process was easier than it had once been. As the buggy began moving, the rumbling grew louder and the rattling more intense. Travis grimaced. Rubber tires would be a great improvement on this monster machine. And maybe some suspension . . .

Luckily, their journey was short. Blacknail drove them to the edge of town where he had a huge barn standing at the bottom of an excavated pit. He drove down a steep road, parked, and shut off the engine, then grunted something about following him. Travis and Melinda descended the ladder amid clouds of white steam, and when they entered the dingy barn, the new ‘toy’ revealed itself.

Oh, Melinda said.

Travis wasn’t sure if the barn had been built around a rectangular pool or if the pool had been dug inside the barn, but either way, the calm body of water filled the length of the building. At one end, a giant cloud of black smoke hovered there, half submerged. A portal, Travis thought. I guess Blacknail is important enough to have one of his own.

The goblin’s new ‘toy’ floated in the water, a twenty-foot oblong-shaped submarine constructed with metal sheets held together with rivets and weld,