Rise of the Isle of the Lost Read online

  The burst of magic that shot through the entire kingdom of Auradon was so strong and so unexpected that no one on the Isle of the Lost even noticed when the invisible barrier disappeared for a moment. (Well, it was invisible, of course.) It frizzed out of existence, and for that glorious minute, everyone who was trapped on that island could have escaped from it. Except no one knew, and so no one escaped, because no one noticed.

  Except for the fish down below, who found it odd that something that had previously been on the other side of the barrier had now floated over to the Isle side. The side where the villains lived, the side where evil ruled, the side where, if anyone had any idea that this certain something was now within grasp, the entire ocean would soon fill with scoundrels of all sorts trying to get their hands on it.

  And that is exactly what came to pass….

  Because someone or something…did notice….

  Someone with a big mouth.

  “A pint of pond scum, two brine balls, a bucket of chum, and a side of rot,” the old pirate said, perusing the menu with his one good eye.

  “Rot: Dry or wet?” asked Uma, all business, pencil poised above her notepad.

  The pirate thought about it. “Wet.”

  “Terrible choice,” Uma growled. “Order in!” she called, placing the ticket on the revolving machine by the kitchen window.

  “Order up!” the cook growled back. She was a surly woman in a white chef’s hat and red apron who slammed every order on the table with a bang so that half its contents spilled on the floor. The shop’s menu was posted on wooden planks over the counter, listing items such as sea slime, spleen, and grit, as well as their specials, shell smell and fish guts.

  Uma picked up the tray, tucked the pencil behind her ear, and saw to the other patrons in the drafty, perpetually damp tavern that always smelled like fried fish. Long wooden tables and benches were filled with pirates and louts. A seashell throne stood in the far corner; it had been made for her mother and was now Uma’s favorite place to sit. She’d been working at the restaurant for as long as she could remember, watching her mother broil offal and roll out the dogfish dumplings. But while Ursula’s name was on the sign at the door, she was hardly ever there anymore. These days Uma’s mother spent most of her time at home watching Auradon soap operas on their rusty television and mourning her glorious past when she lived in King Triton’s palace. Ursula had been exiled from Atlantica before being exiled again to the Isle of the Lost, a double banishment that she swore to avenge.

  Uma was glad to have the place to herself. If Ursula were around, she would only be raging and complaining about why she had been saddled with such an ungrateful and useless daughter. Ursula never ceased to remind Uma how often she’d lost to Mal. When she’d learned Mal had been chosen to go to Auradon, Ursula flipped her tentacles. Uma never heard the end of it.

  Uma cleared a few tables and kicked out some pirates for dueling, pointing to the sign on the wall that said NO DUELING. A few minutes later, she returned to the old pirate’s table laden with his meal. “Pint of scum, brine balls, boiled chum, and a side of wet rot,” she said, banging it all down on the table.

  The old guy sniffed at the plate of brine. “This smells a week old,” he said suspiciously.

  “It is a week old,” said Uma, her arms crossed.

  “Excellent!” he said, and dug into his rather disgusting-looking meal. Uma had no idea how people could eat at Ursula’s. You’ll take it how I make it was the house slogan, and so far, no one had the courage to complain. Many on the Isle remembered the power the sea witch used to wield.

  Uma continued to “serve”—more like yelling and dumping food in front of a few more patrons—a couple of hungry Huns sharing a plate of moray soufflé and a few rowdy Stabbington cousins fighting over the tastiest pieces of splat. When Uma returned to the pirate’s table, his plates were empty and the old sea rat was rubbing his belly in appreciation. “Hey, you heard the news?” he asked, seeming to be in a talkative mood.

  “What news?”

  “Goblins have some hot info,” he said, leaning in to whisper.

  Uma rolled her eyes. “Goblins are terrible gossips.” She kept clearing the table, stacking everything on her tray.

  “Yeah, that may be, but they sure have an interesting tale to spin this time,” said the pirate. “Rumor going around the docks is that it’s got something to do with the merfolk.”

  “Oh yeah?” Uma couldn’t help being intrigued. For all intents and purposes, she herself had merfolk blood. Queens of the seas, Ursula would lament. We would be queens of the seas if not for that awful Triton and that terrible Beast.

  The pirate raised his eyebrow and grinned. “You know that storm we had yesterday? The big one that almost tore down the mast of the Jolly Roger?” Uma nodded. “Something weird about that storm; it came out of nowhere, ripped through all of Auradon and the Isle of the Lost. Goblins say a couple of eels over by Seaside saw a fool mermaid playing around with King Triton’s trident and accidentally created that downpour—and lost the trident in the process.”

  She pursed her lips. “Lost trident, huh? I call fish tale,” she said, putting away the tray of dirty dishes and crossing her arms. “Everyone knows all the magical artifacts in the kingdom are kept in the Museum of Cultural History. Triton doesn’t even use his trident anymore. The golden age of magic is over in Auradon.”

  The old pirate scratched his silver beard. “Doesn’t he take it out for every mer-festival?”

  “He does,” Uma had to agree. She’d seen the sea king on TV, holding up his trident at the opening ceremony.

  “And when was the festival?”

  “Yesterday,” Uma allowed, recalling the incessant coverage on the Auradon News Network. They’d even pulled that stupid crab out of retirement so he could sing that song one more time.

  “Ended with that big storm,” said the pirate.

  “But if Triton’s lost his trident, why doesn’t he just call it back up?” she asked. “Can’t he do that?”

  The pirate smiled a crafty smile. “He sure can, except he doesn’t know it’s gone yet. None of the merfolk do. Whoever took the trident isn’t owning up to it. No one knows how, but some goblins swear they saw it right by the edge of the barrier, and that it somehow floated over on our side. Which means it’s currently adrift in the waters around the Isle of the Lost!”

  “But how did it get here? Through the barrier? Nothing can pass through that thing, not even underwater,” said Uma skeptically.

  “Mystery, isn’t it? But the goblins swear it’s true. Something must have happened over in Auradon,” said the pirate. “Now everyone’s looking for that thing. Including me.” He grinned. “What would Triton give to have it back, right?”

  Uma’s eyes narrowed, her thoughts racing. If the goblins were right, and the pirate wasn’t lying, then a golden opportunity had fallen into the Isle of the Lost. Triton’s trident was one of the most powerful magical objects in all of Auradon. Even if its magic wouldn’t work on the Isle, it was still valuable.

  A thing like that could change her life. If Uma could get her hands on it, it would mean she wouldn’t have to stay here at the fish shop, slinging the house bilge and pouring drafts of slime. Her hand automatically reached for the locket she wore around her neck. Inside was a tiny piece of junk that her mother had given her as a child. “It’s all I have left,” Ursula had said at the time. Uma never understood why a sliver of metal mattered so much, but she liked holding it when she was anxious.

  An idea had formed in her wicked little mind. Her mother had taught her about the power of negotiation, or as she’d described it, talking someone out of their greatest treasures and giving nothing of value in return.

  If Uma found Triton’s trident, she could use it to negotiate her way out of this island once and for all. She could offer it up to King Ben in exchange for release from exile.

  How would she get her hands on it, though? It was underneath the waters around t
he Isle of the Lost, which meant she would have to find a ship and a crew, and a way to retrieve it before anyone else found it.

  But for now, there were stacks of dishes to wash (or at least rinse), plenty of grime to collect for tomorrow’s brew, and lots of crabgrass to sauté for Crab Surprise. (The surprise was that there was no crab in it!) Until she figured out a way to get to that trident, she was stuck on land, with nothing to show for her life but a bucketful of pond scum.

  The next morning, Evie woke up early to get ready for class. Back at Dragon Hall, professors expected their students to be late, and chided them if they were early. The early bird catches the worm, but the tardy bird steals the worm, was one of the school’s oft-repeated pieces of wisdom. But Evie was in Auradon now, and getting up with the sun suited her. She’d worried her hair wouldn’t recover from the shock of frizzing when the talismans were destroyed, but it was her usual lush, cerulean mane after she’d washed and blow-dried that morning. Evie pulled on her favorite fingerless gloves, stepped into her stacked-heel boots, and looked over with a fond smile to where Mal was still sleeping, her purple locks peeking out from under a pillow that she always placed on her face to keep the light out.

  With a satisfied sigh, Evie smoothed the duvet on her bed to make sure it was perfect, admiring her sewing machine sparkling in the sun by her desk. She straightened her garment rack full of dresses for clients and pinned up a picture of Queen Belle’s signature yellow frock to her inspirational pin board filled with photos of various princesses. Mal’s side was a little messier in comparison, with sketchbooks and paints thrown around the rug and a little graffiti over the headboard to make it feel like home.

  Evie left the room, taking care not to wake Mal, and grabbed breakfast and a cup of chirpy-as-your-smile coffee from the happy workers at the cafeteria—a decided improvement from the black-as-your-soul lattes served up by the goblins back on the Isle. After, she headed to her first class: Life Skills without Magic. She saved Mal a seat next to hers, which remained empty even as the bell rang and class began.

  Good Fairy Merryweather was writing some numbers on the board when all of a sudden the clock on the wall flew back to the top of the hour and an unexpected wind blew through the room, sending everyone else back to where they had been fifteen minutes ago. Evie blinked, and the seat next to her was suddenly occupied. Mal sat there with an innocent look on her face, just as the bell rang, right on time for class.

  “Mal,” Evie said in a scolding tone.

  “What?” Mal replied, even as she was holding a well-worn brown tome etched with a golden dragon on its cover.

  “You’re using your spell book again, aren’t you?” she said accusingly.

  “Hmmm, it appears that time-turning spell needs some work,” Mal muttered, as Evie peered over Mal’s shoulder to watch her write Those with villain blood appear to be immune in the page’s margin.

  Evie shook her head. “Time turning?”

  Mal looked sheepish. “It only turns back time to the top of the hour, and only if it’s been less then fifteen minutes. More than that and nothing happens, as I discovered the other day, when I was late and got detention,” she said in an aggrieved tone.

  Detention at Auradon Prep wasn’t meant to be a real punishment like it was at Dragon Hall—but Evie knew that to Mal an hour of cake baking with Professor Merryweather was as bad as it got.

  “Relying on magic can be a dangerous habit,” Evie whispered, as Merryweather started lecturing on points that would be covered in the exams next week. “That’s what Fairy Godmother says. If you solve all your problems with magic, we never learn how to solve problems on our own.”

  “But isn’t that what magic is for?” Mal whispered back. “To solve problems? Isn’t that what Fairy Godmother did, when she sent Cinderella to the ball in a fabulous dress? Or when Beast turned from a monster to a handsome prince? Or when Aladdin got on a magic carpet and showed Jasmine a whole new world? Or even yesterday, when Fairy Godmother destroyed the talismans?”

  “No,” said Evie, sounding even more convinced than ever. “I don’t want to lecture, but that’s not what magic is for. Magic is an expression of the unlimited capacity of mystery and wonder in the world. Cinderella’s goodness brought the Fairy Godmother to her, and Belle’s love for Beast transformed him, and while Aladdin was able to charm Jasmine with the magic carpet, remember when Genie turned him into Prince Ali and he almost lost it all? A dependence on magic can be a weakness. It’s not for skipping a tardy mark. The talismans were a special case.”

  Mal chewed her pencil. “Okay.”

  Evie put a hand on Mal’s arm. “I’m just trying to help.”

  “I will try next time, Evie, I promise. Tomorrow,” said Mal, putting a hand on top of Evie’s and squeezing it.

  Evie nodded, satisfied. They turned their attention back to class. The Life Skills exam would test them on the proper way to balance a checkbook without resorting to arithmancy, or even worse, a calculator. Merryweather stood at the chalkboard in front of a column of complicated numbers. “Now pay attention, because this is important. A balanced ledger means the number on this side equals the number over here. The test will have a list of credits and debits for you to balance.”

  “What’s a checkbook?” Evie whispered.

  “A book filled with checkmarks?” joked Mal. On the island, all transactions were done in trade or through the goblins, who kept meticulous records.

  They giggled softly together, and Evie was glad that they were both equally clueless about normal Auradon life.

  “We’ve got to get better at this,” said Evie determinedly, copying down the numbers from the chalkboard.

  “Maybe it’s too late for us. We’re the girls from the Isle, after all,” said Mal thoughtfully.

  “But our future is in Auradon,” said Evie.

  “True. But I still know where we came from,” said Mal.

  “I do too,” said Evie, as she went through the calculations and balanced her ledgers perfectly. “But now I’m more interested in where we’re going.” She flashed her friend a reassuring smile, which Mal returned.

  “Yeah, you’re right, you’re more Isle Light,” said Mal.

  “Isle Light?” teased Evie. “Is that some kind of soda?”

  Mal laughed and they both finished their study sheets. At the end of class, they walked out together, running into Evie’s boyfriend, Doug, in the hallway.

  “There are my favorite girls,” he said, slinging an arm around both of them.

  Mal raised an eyebrow.

  “Ahem, I mean, my favorite girl,” he said, gingerly removing his arm from Mal’s shoulder and squeezing the one around Evie.

  “She’s just teasing,” said Evie with a fond smile at Doug, leaning into his embrace.

  “Am I?” said Mal archly.

  “Hey, be nice to Doug,” said Evie.

  “I am,” said Mal, acting offended. “When am I not nice to Doug?” She turned to him. “You did really well during the band performance at the tourney game the other day,” she said sweetly. “I think Evie particularly enjoyed your jazz solo.”

  “Thanks, Mal,” he said, beaming.

  “Anyway, I should go,” said Mal, hugging Evie goodbye. “I forgot I have to meet Ben at the royal library opening. Do I look okay?”

  Mal was wearing a purple T-shirt and leather pants, not exactly grand-opening, meet-the-public material, but Evie knew she didn’t have time to change. “You look beautiful!” she said, and that was the truth. Mal always looked great, even when she was wearing a preppie punk dress for a royal event.

  Mal smiled hopefully. “Wish me luck!”

  “Luck! You’ll do great!” said Evie.

  “Luck!” called Doug. They watched as Mal sauntered away.

  Doug looked fondly at Evie. “Speaking of luck. How did I ever get so lucky?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Um, band geek on the short side wins hand of Isle princess?” he sai
d lightly.

  “All that matters to me is that you’re a prince at heart,” said Evie. “You really think I’m a princess?”

  “Your mother is Evil Queen, right? That makes you a princess.”

  “Thanks, Doug,” said Evie, blushing. “I guess I thought it didn’t count in Auradon. No one ever remembers I actually am a princess.” She realized she never got invited to any of the royal functions—she was overlooked for the princess tea the other day, and while Evie would never say a word, she did have bona fide royal roots, as Doug pointed out.

  “I remember,” said Doug. “How can I forget? You’re the fairest in the land.”

  Evie felt a spark all the way down to her toes. “Okay, stop, now you’re making me blush,” she said. “And late for my next class.”

  They said goodbye, and Evie hurried to Advanced Goodness, when she heard someone call her name. She turned around to see Arabella fiddling nervously with the edge of her shirt. “Evie, I need help,” she said.

  With her messy, uncombed hair and red-rimmed eyes, she was a far cry from the put-together Arabella from yesterday, who had been proudly showing them around Seaside.

  “Sure! What’s up? Do you need another dress made?” asked Evie. But something in the look on the little mermaid’s face told her that this particular problem wouldn’t be so easily fixed by a dress with a lace bodice and a leather skirt.

  “Ah, there you are, Sire,” said Lumiere, handing Ben a pair of gem-encrusted scissors.

  Ben thanked his servant and excused himself from the ambassadors from the Bayou de Orleans, who’d come all the way from Grimmsville to attend today’s event.

  “Is Mal here?” he asked, making his way to the front of the podium, where a polite crowd of students and librarians had gathered, along with the royal press corps, ready as usual with cameras flashing and television microphones.

  “No, Sire, not yet,” said Lumiere.

  “Let’s give her a minute,” he said.